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Forgive the badness. Tranquil Springs!
Without a sound.
The leatherbound book fell from her hands, and landed, pages open to any old chapter, at the water's edge. Above, the stars glittered like jewels in a dark mine. Ilmen was bright that night as she stood among the tranquil springs, the smooth surface of the waters reflecting the clear sky above. It was a sight indeed.
Bending over to rescue the book from the cold water slowly seeping its way into the paper, Lith shook her head absently. The gray woman had been intent on the stars, taking note of the constellations, and the bright individuals that had names of their own. She had been so concentrated, so fascinated, that the book had slipped from her grip. It was a human book, taken from a human city she had come across in her travels. Along the pages, she had blotted out names here and there, replacing them with others in red ink. They were names her people had used, that had been used for generations. The names that Elbereth gave the stars.
Flipping back to the page she had previously been looking upon, the coyote began muttering as she identified the innumerable mass above. The night was clear, and she gave thanks for that, silently. For the last few days, clouds had blotted Ilmen, concealing the outer space. Even Anar could scarcely penetrate the thick blanket hovering over their heads. Pausing in her recital, the lady sighed. But what was the point? Dropping the tattered book again, she sat indian-style, and folded her arms. One could go out counting the stars forever, but would never get anywhere. The bright mark of Elbereth was quite visible by the way she sat, and she stared down at it with a frown. Her blue eyes, one corrupted with yellow, blinked slowly, drowsily. And so Lith sat in that pensieve state.
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[html] Blech-blech, forgive my badness, please. The next will be better, promise! __________________________________________
Her heart, faithful fellow that he is, kept steadily on; truly, the whole of her seemed curiously functional. Morning had found her heart-broken, head-spinning, a rejected possibility with aging limbs and lavender irises. Yet she had gotten exactly what she’d asked for: a night; a single, perfect evening, punctuated with sweet nothings and lovemaking’s she-panther noises. With morning her partner had dissipated, leaving snapped-twigs and fizzing nerves in her wake – as well as a certain heartsick astronomer, called Luz Cresceno even by her friends.
It was the greatest blow ever dealt to her – and here she was, caught en route to the Tranquil Springs, her feet chill-inspired to make quick strides. The hurt had been sealed away in some forgotten attic of the head, where likewise locked away laid the rest of the real contents of Luz, accruing dust and increasingly lenient details by the wearing of years. She’d cried the moment realization had snared her, with his gentle iron fingers; she had seized and devoured a rabbit-heart (as well as the remaining, less appetizing portions) before the tears had dried.
And here she was.
Melancholy made her sleek, somehow, some unexplainable way. Her curls lacked their customary charming disarray; today, tonight, they were mannerly spirals. Even her coloration – the dreary grays and vagabond brights – seemed improved by her bout of sorrows. To see such a palette mirrored in another? A strange pleasure, a peek into Alternate Universe B. (Another creature would have pleaded that you forgive the narcissism after such a thought, but Luz let it stand, as factual as frost.) To the wetted book she offered but a glance; though literate enough, such diversions had never been her calling. They were the escapes of other beasts, portholes that lead her down winding paths but nowhere near fantastic as their supporters claimed. “Hello.” A word. A simple, precious word. How poorly it filled this second! As if to compensate, she tilted her head, and endeavored again. “Might I join you, tonight, pretty grey miss?” (Ah, ‘tonight.’ Yesterday that word had thrown her to trouble’s jaws, but now, now she knew its meaning!) In a mockery of thought, Luz Cresceno touched a werewolf-fingertip to her chin.
Romantic disaster, evidently, made her giddy. | |
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i've taken so long to reply! i apologize.
and as for your post; nonsense! i have always enjoyed reading your writing.
Without a sound.
They perhaps could have been sisters, with their coats the color of ash and ebony mixtures and their affinities for the stars. However, the other woman, with curls and a wake of sorrow behind her, was of the blood which Inferni abhorred; a wolf. Lith did not fully understand this vendetta, but nevertheless determined to heed the "no-wolves-allowed" command, which was only valid on Inferni sand. Therefore the grey lady, who didn't mind the other species herself, spoke easily and amiably to the woman. "You might," was her response, said with a slow nod of the head.
Presently after this utterance the coyote cleared a space beside herself for the other, placing her manmade bookbag on her opposite side. Still sitting in her cross-legged position, Lith observed her counterpart with her strange eyes. The wolf woman was pleasing to the eyes, (especially Lith's) and reminded the coyote of a statue carved out of silver, blessed with speech and movement. With an appreciative smile, the stargazer noted the opal between her breasts. The adornment added a lovely touch to the walking portrait, but did not command the attention of the onlooker. No, the focal point was the pair of heliotrope eyes that were set evenly upon her face. There is where Lith's wandering gaze finally rested. "Who are you, grey pilgrim?" Lith questioned, curiousity befalling her.
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[html] A very big apology, for the tardiness. This won't keep happening, but I feel I may jinx it if I promise more prompt responses. Seems every time I do, I get a reality bodyslam. xD; And thank you so much. Lith is absolutely breath taking. I was drooling over your descriptions of her in her profile! Though, Luz might have just scared her off. Anyways. Again, many sorries for my total untogetherness in this thread. On to the actual post! __________________________________________
She could lick such sensation from a look! Yet there are few who undergo approving observation without some pleasure-flick – especially when offering equal approval. Luz Cresceno caught the glance at the opal-necklace with forefinger and thumb; it made delight do strange things (like cartwheels) along her backbone hills. Normally her gaze would have made shameless treks up and along the more scenic routes of her companion’s body – from hip-curve to neck’s secrecy and that little shade that skirted collarbones, and then a swan-dive towards southern counties – yet now they’d been snared in strange, and not ill-favored, irises.
Her position was one of great assumption. She’d been attacked by a coyote before; there were scar-puckers to prove it, though their discovery would come with only the most intimate encounters, for she’d mended with unexpected speed and satisfaction. However, despite this inspiration for caution, Luz lounged. With the majority of her weight on her arms, and her head tilted only slightly downwards to compensate for the variance in heights between the two creatures, she’d bent and folded her legs in a travesty of virginity – the way the merchants’ daughters posed as concubines in bad paintings – complete with angles all-wrong with crude invitation. One toe touched dark waters; the rest was perfectly at home amid the grass and moonlight, and good company. (All this, and still her heart felt as if ripped in twain!)
The astronomer had assumed this bad array before hearing the question. Now, arranged thus, she tilted her head towards her shoulder, eyes closed, as if this hid the bare-bones of a smile. “Pilgrim,” she said aloud, before resuming the most recent composition of chin, face, shoulders and neck. “I’m not on my way towards any holy-land tonight, my friend,” she said, with the lightest lift of the brows, “having settled for roadside attractions far too long ago.” A serrated smile. “But I’m Luz. Enchanté.” Her head tilted towards the right, investing (with attention serving as currency) the majority of her stare in the mismatch eye-pair, but also throwing a few coins to lips, ears, the brow-arcs. “What is your name?” | |
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