a mother's trust

Valinta LeStrange · 04-22-2012, 01:16 AM

[html]

let's assume Val is dead and Gunnar... idfk about him XD

The small woman stood in a vast and endless field, the wind drifting through the tall grasses that nearly obscured her, blowing through the long pitch tresses that tangled behind her. A medium height albino woman sat beside her, laughing joyfully with her mother.

Smiling, the woman reached out and touched her child's milk-colored hair, stroking the child she was delighted to see as an adult. Upon finding each other, they had cried for what seemed to be days. A child taken from a mother's grasp was a monstrous thing. There was a name for someone who lost their mate, a name for a child who lost their parents, but none for a mother who lost her child.

It was a depressing thing, one she didn't want to consider. As young as she was at the time of Gloria's birth and subsequent death, she subconsciously knew one of them would die. It was a pity it had to have been Gloria. Valinta had not yet discovered the infinite font of joy that would prove to be in her son, one she missed with an ache.

Thinking of her boy cast a shadow over the beautiful plains. Gloria noticed her mother's woe and quietly stood up to fetch the fruit that was forever ripe and luscious on the trees. Appreciating the girl's knowledge of her emotions, Valinta let a solitary tear slide from her face. The stoic Russian would allow no more, lest her father's influence tear her apart.

The dark part of her that yearned for freedom, for sex, for drugs, pushed at the strong boundary in her mind, and snarling, Valinta forced Nadja back. Having Nadja had forced the woman to leave, before she hurt herself, hurt her child. In the end, Nadja was the reason she had died. Unable to withstand the constant urges, the need to remain faithful to Paulo was stronger.

Just as the steel was stronger for the fire that forged it, a life of faithlessness was compounded into complete devotion to one man until conflicting needs tore her apart mentally. She wrote a note out in English, Russian, and Spanish, the languages chaotically changing mid sentence and sometimes in the middle of a word, to her daughter, and then killed herself.

In one moment, everything was done. She regretted it. She knew that Belila, her darling Belila, would find her body. And she did. Valinta did not want to think of the terror the girl had to go through. She knew though, in her mother's heart, that she was not loved by her three children. Marron, Seryi, and Belila would never see her as she saw them, but she could only hope.

But what she missed most, in this phantom's world she lived in, was Gunnar. She had Gloria, she knew Belila would eventually find the right path, Marron and Seryi, who looked hauntingly like Gunnar, would become upstanding young men. But Gunnar... The boy she had raised, loved, and cared for as her own. A source of joy and sadness... All the love she'd ever felt, ever known, manifested into one being.

Her precious son.

Table by Blobbi. Credit.

Gunnar Donte LeStrange · 04-22-2012, 05:23 PM

[html]

How's this for a post? ;D

Word Count → 1328

For far too long he'd been travelling. He'd left everything behind; his mate, his pack, his job, everything. And for what? A chance to find a woman who was probably dead by now? Years had passed with no leads, no trail to follow. Still, he'd continued to search. Something pulled him, pushed him onwards. Surely he'd find her someday, right?

It was by a stroke of luck that one day, four years into his search, he'd found a clue. It came unexpectedly, from what could've been his last moment on Earth. A storm raged overhead as he bunked down in a tunnel system, far south of his home. The rain was filling the tunnels and every hour later he had to move to find higher ground without risking the storm outside. Eventually, he became trapped and the water kept rising. There was no escape.

Death came knocking.

He woke in a field. Lush and green, the only forboding thing about the place was the layer of fog around the edges of the clearing. Before him stood a tree, a huge towering willow with trails of green hanging down, curtaining its center and a trunk so thick he couldn't possibly wrap his arms around it. Flowers bloomed around it, despite the shade it cast. A stream ran alongside it, cutting a path of blue through the green grass and colorful flowers. A beautiful thing in a beautiful, wonderous field.

And yet, he was afraid. This wasn't the tunnels and it wasn't his home. Whatever this place was, it wasn't familliar nor welcoming. He had no place to go. Running for the edges of the field, for the fog and mist, he found himself running back towards the tree again and again. No way out. No escape. Terrified, he hid beneath the branches of the willow, praying that this would just be a terrible dream.

As he sat there, alone, he heard a voice. "Born of a jackal, bled by the crone. The son of a bastard, born to die alone." He opened his eyes and looked around, seeing no one nearby. He searched, all the while as the voice boomed around him, growing louder and crueler as it spoke.

"He who bleeds black and drains the waters of life. He who is led astray, leaving everything behind. He who flees the truth for the lies. He who is weak but claims to be strong. Striving for strength and for truth in a world full of weakness and lies. You've come too far, son of the bastard crone. Too far to turn back. Too far to go home."

The words stung and he whirled around, fur on end and teeth bared. "Stop! Stop it! That's not true!" He wailed into the empty sky, to no avail.

"You who bleeds black and is weak. You who have left all you have known behind, seeking truth in a land of lies and hate. You who was strong has grown tired. You've come to far, nameless son of the bastard crone. There is no ending for you this time."

"Stop it!" He howled, standing as tall as he could and waving claws at the sky, his teeth flashing in the endless light. "I'm not nameless! My name is..." He trailed off, his mind drawing a blank. What was his name? Surely he couldn't have forgotten such an important thing as his own first name?

"You who is without a name, born to die alone. You who haven't the understanding to know what truth lies behind the lies. You seek only what lies beyond your reach. There is no treasure here, nameless son of the bastard crone. You've come too far to go home."

He ran out from under the safety of the willow tree, stopping in the center of the field, staring around him. Figures appearing in the mist brought no words from his lips. A woman of white, purest snow. A man of coal colored fur with eyes the color of the sun. A woman with pale blue eyes and marked in the colors of the moon. Faceless children, all in a row, some tall and old, others young and barely old enough to walk. Those with identity and yet, no names to speak of.

"No... No!" He screamed, though he wasn't sure why. "Naniko!" The first woman of pale snow stepped out of the mist, green eyes glaring into him like poison, blaming him, scolding him. "Naniko, please, don't..." And then, she was gone.

He whirled around to the man now, the one with coal colored fur and the eyes of the sun. "Jazper! Wait!" As soon as he stepped into the field, he too vanished. He snapped his vision to the moon lit woman and his heart clenched. "...Fia." Tears were streaming down his face now. The girl smiled at him, though her eyes were like ice. As the others had before her, she too vanished once she'd left the safety of the mist.

One after another, they all came and disappeared. Gloria was next. The sister he hadn't known. Then came others, children he'd never met before but knew somehow. Marron, Seryi, Belila, two faceless, nameless children that looked heartbreakingly like Fia and himself. His children, though he'd never had any.

And then, one final figure stood beyond his reach. Dark fur and the scent of milk told him that this was the final key. "...Mother." He stepped towards her, reaching out. "MOTHER, NO!" As he reached her, she vanished, just like all the rest. He knelt in the grass, crying, curled into himself as if he'd been kicked. These people were his life. Some had died. Some had not yet lived. Others lived on beyond his reach. He'd left them. All of them.

And for what? "...to find you, Mother. To find you and to bring you home."

"You who has been born of the bastard crone. You who has no name and no home. Speak the truth you know deep inside and perhapes your time here will be cut short." That voice again, booming in his ears like thunder and ice.

"I have a name. I have a home." He growled from his curled position. He stood up quickly and screamed into the air, arms stretched out and fur on end.

"My name is Gunnar Donte LeStrange! Son of Valinta and brother to Gloria! Husband to Fia Marino-Knight and a warrior of Casa di Cavalieri! Someday I'll be a father and my children will know my name as well!" He screamed, teeth bared and claws to the sky once more. "Face me, you without form! Face me and dare to say I'm nameless once more! I'll show you just how strong this son of a bastard crone truely is!"

When nothing came his answer, he stood there, staring at the sky, his arms falling to his sides and his fur relaxing on the back of his neck. Nothing was happening. No figure emerged from the mist. No booming voice followed his threats. Nothing.

He was alone once more. "...I came to find my mother. If she's here, show her to me. Bring her to me. I've come far enough." He demanded to nothing, waiting where he stood, fully prepared to wait for eternity if he had to. He'd come so far. If this was where his mother was, then this would be where he'd find her. "Well?"

Login




Remember me Lost Password?