05-17-2010, 09:28 AM
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You can decide what form Cwmfen should be in, ^=^
Only the silence seemed to change. It was not something that was immediately known. It was subtle, as the soft breath that the wind gives when a butterfly’s wing kisses the sun, the wing burning with each golden ray. But the golden light was absent, and the grey of clouds muted the orb’s warmth. The world lay in silver, gilded and lined with delicate strokes. The air was heavy with the shadows, thick with the lack of light. The birds did not sing, nor did the heavens. Not even the waters. Only the trees. They whispered softly, their voices neither rejoicing nor condemning. But something changed. It was not the world, and yet the change was present everywhere. It was subtle—
And the silence...
Rain. The tears of the heavens fell, although not even they knew for what it was that they wept. The trees fell silent then, the whispers dying only to be replaced by the quiet roar of tears crashing upon the world that waited. The earth drank thirstily but not greedily. The earth was thankful for this drink. The air was heavy with the darkness and the shadows,
A shadow more dense then those of the world was unmoving. That tenebrous form had seen the workings of this place before. The scents—they were familiar. It was as if she had arrived through a Dream, as if the wings of the one-eyed raven had carried her that great distance, that distance away from three that were held within her mind most prominently. But when she had left, the mind had relinquished them, keeping only the memories that kept that silver soul warm. The world sang to her, and the tears of the heavens fell upon her wearied body, washing the ocean’s brine that remained still within her coat. She remembered these lands, and the lands remembered her and blessed her with that cathartic rain.
The woad-bound maw lowered, and the white orbs revealed themselves so that the world may reveal itself to her. They shown in the half-light of the dim day, shining as they had before. It had been many months since she had seen this place. It was different, but she recognized it. The Warrior, however, seemed unnervingly unchanged. Ageless and timeless, she seemed preserved, as if the immortality of Nemain herself were preserved.
That strong song rose upon the air, sent from her throat with the fury of War, and yet with the tranquility of an enlightened Warrior. The voice of the pied bird called after that song, and together their voices echoed in the vaults of the Gods. And then the voice was silent, the maw lowering once more. The woad-marked warrior knew that Cercelee would not come, nor would Haku. They did not belong within these lands any longer. The scents were familiar and the warrior did not forget.
The raven’s wings cut the air like a black blade. The woad bound ears lifted, drinking in the whisper of the rain that fell upon those tenebrous wings. Patience. The warrior’s song lifted within her soul, rising as had the sudden rain.
You can decide what form Cwmfen should be in, ^=^
Only the silence seemed to change. It was not something that was immediately known. It was subtle, as the soft breath that the wind gives when a butterfly’s wing kisses the sun, the wing burning with each golden ray. But the golden light was absent, and the grey of clouds muted the orb’s warmth. The world lay in silver, gilded and lined with delicate strokes. The air was heavy with the shadows, thick with the lack of light. The birds did not sing, nor did the heavens. Not even the waters. Only the trees. They whispered softly, their voices neither rejoicing nor condemning. But something changed. It was not the world, and yet the change was present everywhere. It was subtle—
And the silence...
Rain. The tears of the heavens fell, although not even they knew for what it was that they wept. The trees fell silent then, the whispers dying only to be replaced by the quiet roar of tears crashing upon the world that waited. The earth drank thirstily but not greedily. The earth was thankful for this drink. The air was heavy with the darkness and the shadows,
A shadow more dense then those of the world was unmoving. That tenebrous form had seen the workings of this place before. The scents—they were familiar. It was as if she had arrived through a Dream, as if the wings of the one-eyed raven had carried her that great distance, that distance away from three that were held within her mind most prominently. But when she had left, the mind had relinquished them, keeping only the memories that kept that silver soul warm. The world sang to her, and the tears of the heavens fell upon her wearied body, washing the ocean’s brine that remained still within her coat. She remembered these lands, and the lands remembered her and blessed her with that cathartic rain.
The woad-bound maw lowered, and the white orbs revealed themselves so that the world may reveal itself to her. They shown in the half-light of the dim day, shining as they had before. It had been many months since she had seen this place. It was different, but she recognized it. The Warrior, however, seemed unnervingly unchanged. Ageless and timeless, she seemed preserved, as if the immortality of Nemain herself were preserved.
That strong song rose upon the air, sent from her throat with the fury of War, and yet with the tranquility of an enlightened Warrior. The voice of the pied bird called after that song, and together their voices echoed in the vaults of the Gods. And then the voice was silent, the maw lowering once more. The woad-marked warrior knew that Cercelee would not come, nor would Haku. They did not belong within these lands any longer. The scents were familiar and the warrior did not forget.
The raven’s wings cut the air like a black blade. The woad bound ears lifted, drinking in the whisper of the rain that fell upon those tenebrous wings. Patience. The warrior’s song lifted within her soul, rising as had the sudden rain.