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#Post#: 403358--------------------------------------------------
Spirit's muse
By: Hydra Date: January 8, 2016, 3:06 pm
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An aggressive deep-rooted laugh erupts through the realm,
bouncing off walls and trees - resounding through and giving
life to almost everything. Leaves shiver at the sudden icy touch
that strikes them, the ground cowering within itself at the
dominant state of the one individual present.
Enticed by the chills that run through when stepping onto the
ground the second she does so fastening itself so the pain it
engulfs would end - Gaia, as if on instinct, ensures everything
is where it was last time with a quick check. The light that
shone on her face dimmed according to time; making the beauty
the woman possessed all the more intoxicating, dark
coal-coloured hair reaching her waist, piercing azure eyes
mirroring thunder itself. She was the epitome of fire and ice –
though some would argue they weren't a compatible pair.
Attracted to nothing, in particular, her bright eyes commence to
wonder; a ticking clock interrupting her line of vision for a
moment, the woman suddenly engaged to what becomes of her
surroundings. Seemingly fascinated, blue eyes wonder to the
trees that tower over her, like a grandfather clock she once
owned. Finally coming to a stop in what would seem the heart and
soul of the forest, she places her feet tightly together and her
arms behind her; Gaia, who held the era of the world in her
hands, had arrived. To the eyes of a wanderer, she would seem
the heart of a 50-year-old; in reality, she was eternally
blessed thus her beauty had been preserved while her wisdom grew
like budding roses every millennium she continued to live.
She takes a seat on the ground after a moment of enjoying the
greenness of the trees, the brown earth dirtying the soles of
her bare feet and her hands rise, parallel to each other,
meeting at her chest, fingers interlocking as she concentrates
on the chakra points in her body. The woman relaxed her bones to
the point where she felt most comfortable, enough to give the
impression she was lost in thought but branded to her that she
was conscious of everything.
Years of practising had paid off and her teachers were not
forgotten; they had taught her of the courage that burnt like an
eternal flame in her eyes, and the domineering exterior that
never seemed to alter, not to mention, the passion for her
existence – being a deity of time, there was nothing Gaia took
pleasure in more than sitting to simply sit, relaxing to simply
relax and being to simple be.
She seized this time and kept it locked, wishing interruption
was far from her, not raising her hopes too much though for she
knew better. The way she sat on the ground, legs crossed over
one another, so serenely, the rise and fall of chest an
indication of how slow she was breathing, made her seem
desirable, like a goddess, the sun complimenting her tan
complexion, beginning to hum softly and inaudible to anyone far
from where she was located.
The mysterious being finally speaks, luscious plump lips painted
a velvet red parting to let the words of wisdom through.
"Find what you love, and let it kill you, let death hug you in
such an intimate manner he will shiver at your cold touch just
as I open my heart to the spirits around me. . ."
With that, the slits in her back begin to slice open, big white
wings protruding, red dust falling from the razor-sharp tips as
she continues to summon what afterlife lurks around her.
From thin air, as if someone was painting a living, breathing
canvas, a spirit took on the form of a man; though Gaia had seen
it many a times she was always so taken aback by the
breathtaking panorama. The dull colours in the air merged
together and became beautiful as they surround the man, a ray of
sunlight shining upon him as if he were royalty. Unlike
yesterday's withdrawn spirit, this man seemed more inquisitive,
even practically asking what she wanted. What did Gaia want?
What was the point of awakening what was dead? She didn't know
herself yet repeated the same thing every day; the woman was
poetically insane and one day, the spirits might backfire, they
might actually take her and let her gaze upon death, let her
converse with death as if it had been a best friend in past
lives. The woman was old, too old and so she had gotten somewhat
world-weary.
Well. . . I wondered, of course, if it is my time to go today.
If so, do not deny me the pleasure of your cold touch and let us
walk, hand in hand, into the darkness. Let us see what the other
side has to offer, and let us bestow light upon it. If it is not
my time, I am sorry, for awakening you, it was not my intention
to bother you, and so I wish you have the answers for not having
them would be a disappointment; not only to me but to you too.
Like always, she ended her daily mantra with a bow of her head,
her intense cerulean eyes glistening up in his direction as if
waiting on him; she did, after all, have all the time in the
world.
It was always the same question, the inquisitive 'why.' Every
spirit that had ever been put forth was always so curious as to
know why she 'pined' for death so, but it wasn’t so much a
desire for Death, but the fear of living undeservedly without
the consent from the deity of death. They had crossed paths many
a times and the fellow traveller would always remind Gaia of her
element, she had practically jammed it into her mind that she
was a 'blessed' one though Gaia thought this selfish of her. She
was the one who, with a click of a finger, can take life.
"It is my duty to ask. . . I do not crave death, but I can't let
it pass either. Let's just say I'd be in trouble if I didn't. .
."
Her answer floats in the air as if her voice hadn't resonated
around them just minutes ago, a sigh parting her lips, the
heaving up and down of her chest proving it to be incensed,
though not greatly. And then all too suddenly, the spirit
vanished, shaking his head as he did.
#Post#: 403470--------------------------------------------------
Re: Spirit's muse
By: Hydra Date: January 11, 2016, 2:31 pm
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It was frantic, the deafening shouts, the war between the two
kingdoms; the dark winged creatures and the light souls weren't
giving up. The deities had been called to mend the two broken
communities but in the chaos of it all, the walls of fire rising
above the highest of mountains, not even near its peaks, they
truly reached their limits trying to put a stop to this so
called revolutionary war.
Sudden bolts of lightning shot like gunfire from the sky,
crashing so harshly with the grounds it tore through the gravel,
stones flying about, all the damage caused for nothing because
neither side was winning, only killing their own beloved people.
She had spotted Arian only briefly, controlling the time
momentarily and going beyond her limits to make everything
easier for her comrade, blood pouring down the sides of her
face. The spell had come to its end and she had given them
enough time to sort the mess, but her friend had disappeared in
the dust left behind and in that moment, she remembered tilting
her head back. Her blue orbs meet with the harsh piercing sun
above her head, only temporarily before collapsing onto the hard
ground beneath her. darkness' fingers drawing her eyes shut, and
pulling her into a deep sleep.
It was the last memory and as she comes back to reality with a
shake of her head to find she had been gripping her dress, she
sighs, letting the material go.
Not a moment later and she stands from her position, isolating
herself in a ball of darkness, watching as a curtain of black
surrounds her body, making it appear as she was being eaten by
the portal. She wanted to walk, but without the eyes of animals
and other beings on her. Gaia didn’t like humans. She didn’t
necessarily get along with them either, often times the cause of
it being their greed for power. When she had been given this
curse, the woman had been out of control.
She had a lust for blood and the elders had warned her if it got
out of control, she would be stripped of her birthright and
forced to live among the mortals forever. It straightened her
out, some.
The dark haired woman comes to a stop at a creek, letting the
black ball around her fall to the ground and dissipate into thin
her, to her will. A smug smirk paints her lips as she dips her
right foot into the water, levitating on it. Her hair moves with
the wind, as does her light dress, and to any passerby, she
would look almost angelic, under the beacon of light above her.
She continues to walk on the surface of the water, letting the
little waves splash against her ankles, enjoying it all.
It was nice to simply take a break.
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