Drifting but your eyes are open now. And there is light and waking. Good morning...good morning.
I'll wait for you. All of you. Until then, good morning.
Levi. The doe who had always been Henna's loyal friend first - an intimidating and powerful female. A model for many things Eraline had always striven to be. Turned ally. Turned friend. Turned elusive but steady rock despite the raging violence in her heart. In and out of focus as if she's looking up at her from beneath the surface of the pond, rippling, distorted but familiar. She doesn't have to say anything, with all that Levi's said, because Levi has always been the one understanding, the one not needing explanation. So for Levi, it is a soft look behind the pain, a gentle caress of a smile. It's Amelia who needs the words, to whom she looks when the moment between herself and the large female has passed. To Mimi, the little fawn she'd babysat so often that she'd begun to look like a little sister. Important and worth protecting. Mimi, all fire like her mother, flirtation and freedom.
"Spitfire..." She chokes out before she is overcome with a fit of gasping coughs that leave speckles of blood along her lower lip. It passes, and she inhales sharply but putting on a smile. "Not leaving...always...in your heart. Always in...mine. Forever..."
These scattered thoughts are the best she can do, her very best now. And for Mimi, a gentle promise of forever. Another eye to wear in Heaven.
How shall you find the secret of death unless you seek it in the heath of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Bao huddled up close to Eraline, blocking out the thick smell of blood, blocking out the numerous strangers who whispered sweet things into the dying doe's ears and cried into her fur. Blocked out, because if she got this close... if she pressed herself against the doe's warm side, if she ignored the blood and tremors of pain... If she did all that, Eraline wasn't... wasn't... She curled herself into the doe's warmth, breathing deeply, and imagined that all was right in this world. It was just another day in the forest.
Just another pleasant day, safe and warm by her aunt's side.
Amelia's tears flow in abundance now, and with a strangled cry she buries her face into Eraline's neck, oblivious to the others and the blood probably soaking into her fur. Gently, she pulls back and brushes her tongue across Eraline's forehead. "Al..ways.. Always. Always. Eraline.. I love you... so, so much!" More than words could ever properly express. Through the blood, through the tears, the pain, the anger building in her and the feeling like her heart is being shredded, the young doe tries to smile. Just once. Once for the doe she would have called sister. Once, for the doe she didn't ever think could be defeated. Once, for her friend.
[ Faustt you always have the most beautiful writings.. ;__; ♥ ]
With so many others surrounding her, it is hard for her to pick out individual bodies. There is a dark halo surrounding the outer edges of her vision that makes it hard to know. But she can smell the little fawn whom she'd watched emerge from her mother's powerful body, the tiniest little runt she had ever had ever been graced to see. Little Baby, her Bao, whom she'd forced to walk clear across the first on her very first day living, herself so young and inexperienced to the needs of things younger than herself. Afraid to step in the water. Afraid of everything, cowering beneath her belly. Eraline exhales as the memories tighten in her chest. For Bao, there is something different. Not a goodbye, but a lesson. with what little strength she has left the doe nudges the youth closer up her side with a knee until she is able to tuck her into the outer crook of her leg. A swallow, then a shift closer to the girl's masked face and, whispering, she says,
"The secret...to not being scared....is to remember that...that..." Eraline turns her face into the ground as she struggles with a bloody lump in her throat. It comes out in one violent cough and it is a long moment before she can pull her head up again. Closer now, so that her lips are near the girl's ear. "there's no such thing...as not being...scared...only...we have no choice..sometimes. So don't...be scared by things...all the time, okay? Be...brave, Bao...brave like Mimi....but also Brave...like Bao."
He had been hiding, secluding himself, keeping himself away from Eraline and Syahi for numerous reasons. This night however, something seemed off. He could smell Eraline in the distance, hear the commotion, the sounds of distress. There were many scents running together, but hers he knew. Without further hesitation would throw himself to all fours and bolt in her direction. He felt himself freeze the minute other deer seemed to surround a certain area, but he pushed through. Eyes would fall upon Eraline and some beast... much larger than her, viciously striking her. He couldn't move, locked in place. In that very moment he felt empty, everything around him still, all but the beast and his former daughter before him. He could hear nothing but the pounding of his heartbeat. He was a deer staring into headlights. He wanted to move, he wanted to do something, but he couldn't. Frozen in place by fear? Most likely.
Everything seemed to be happening so slow, but the minute Eraline tripped over the predators tail, everything flashed by. Eyes were glued to her and only her, even as other deer charged in to rid of her attacker. The stag then made his move, his body heavy, movements too. Eyes peered down to her with disbelief. Here she was mortally wounded... but it had not hit him yet. - Hoof steps were heard, friends and family of hers? He would ward them off, 'NO! NO! Stay the fuck away!'... but he could only do it for so long. Tears were forming, body was growing far too heavy.
The orange stag would collapse before Eraline and unable to hold back his sobbing, fiery hot tears would be released, rolling from the sockets of his eyes, melting with warm pools of blood... he didn't care who seen. The side of his head would brush against her drained form, inhaling... her scent mixed with oozing bodily fluids, but he needed to capture her scent one last time. Everything was setting in... "No.... Eraline", his voice pathetic and whiny, pleading. "D...don't leave me"... he continued, still, his tone the same, pathetic and pleading. The tip of his skull would brush through the fur along a single shoulder. He burned, he ached... 'FAILURE', he would cry out to himself. How could he have let this happen?
It was too late though... too late... too late. He couldn't safe her now...
"I did so much wrong, nothing was ever your fault... I-I never wanted you to hurt, but you did. Please don't hurt anymore... please go to someplace wonderful... I just regret not being able to make here that wonderful place for you... but now you have a chance to experience it. I will never forget you Eraline. You shined brighter than any star, were prettier than any flower, more graceful than the ponds smooth current. You were an angel, a real angel". The stag would shake his head, loosening the flowers from his tines, letting them adorn her bloody form. "Goodbye... Eraline. Even in death I will always remember you as my daughter. Live in a place that is neither hot nor cold, but just right". It was all he could say... Regret, guilt, it would never leave him.
Xetkal would take a deep breath, tears still not under control, yet he would rise then look down to her, getting one last look... the last time he would see her... and it had to be this way. The mental image would never leave, the stench of blood, everything about this scene... haunting. He would dip his head to those around him before taking his leave, leaving before he lost his mind and those close to her joined her in death... no, they didn't deserve it. He would go mentally deteriorate in silence, alone.
--
Sad to see her go. I tried to find music but couldn't find anything good enough.
She is beginning to give in to the strange sensation of being pulled in two when she hears him through the buzzing. In and out like everything...like everyone. Words out of context and words in context. With painful effort she opens her eyes and sees her former father's massive skull looming over her. Another wash of memories - this time from the very beginning.
Your parents are where?
I'm not a tool you can use to prove yourself to earn the respect of these imaginary people!
Okay, Daddy, now you climb up those rocks and kill the awful beast!
A world of memories...a short lifetime. Bitterness and anger. Stress and frustration. But also love, somewhere beyond that, always beneath it, love. Even when there was nothing first but hate.
Daddy...she thinks, though he has no longer her father, but in this strange tilting between past and present he is somehow still it. So she thinks, Daddy... and then tries to say but the words can't come out and she is exhausted, numb.
And then he's gone and there's nothing left to do but give in to the wave of the past.
Bao's ear turned to face the gust of air that accompanied Eraline's words, but her face stayed hidden in fur. She focused on what was said, not how. Not the halting phrases, or the words that choked her before they surfaced properly. She focused so much on not hearing Eraline's pain that she almost missed the point entirely.
Be brave... like Mimi, yes. But... like Bao?
"No," she said, voice muffled, shaking her head, denying it all. "Brave... brave like Eraline..."
Her first instinct is to rush to her friend's side, to get her up, insist she's fine.
Her second is to run, to run and never stop; surely this was just a nightmare, and she'd awaken soon.
But as the din of the world roars itself into black silence and the painful truth sets in, all she can do is stand paralyzed, entranced by the one other creature left in the world: Eraline.
Eraline, the bright fawn.
Eraline, the headstrong doe.
Eraline, her steadfast companion.
Eraline, fading fast.
Her muted hoofbeats reached her only dimly; she felt detached, apart from herself as she edged closer to the wounded doe and those who surrounded her.
Carefully, hesitantly, she lay beside the one who had taught her to laugh again - who now reminded her why she had stopped in the first place.
"You didn't mean to leave without my goodbye, did you?" Phaios murmurs, pressing her nose in the soft pocket behind one of Eraline's ears. She doesn't bother pushing back the tears, letting them slick her cheeks with lines of brown-black where they've wet her fur.
"Rest, Little One... You're safe now. I promised that, didn't I." The doe pauses, trying not to choke. "You are loved," is all she can manage before she finds her throat closed too tightly for words.
When she finds Eraline's sides no longer fluttering with breath, Phai turns her eyes skyward.
"Mother, watch over her; Great-grandfather, guard her steps."
Phai, that's so beautiful. And that song is one of my favorites.. ♥
Also wanted to tell you, Cassie, that the times spent with Eraline were some of my favorites and will always be treasured by me and my characters. Thank you for sharing your beautiful creations, and yourself with us. Good luck in the future. We'll miss you. So much.
"There is....no goodbye when I know....I'll see you in the...savannah..."
Because for Eraline, Phaios is life. Is a thousand lives and a million stories and a trillion lessons. The answer is a no brainer. She knows that she will have to wait a while though. Lives do not just start over without all the others tied into them. It will be a while, but she can wait, the same way she will wait for Ciel, for Henna, Jokerman, Krystal, for Syahi and Rook and Bishop. She will wait for Phaios and then all together they will start anew. Perhaps as better people. Perhaps as worse. Either way they will know each other, and that is worth waiting for, come what may. So she exhales, shallow and quivering, Phai's warmth on her face.
With it goes the last of her strength. The tension. A burst of light that curls in on itself, allows itself to be eaten by darkness. A second when her life plays out in one swift and chaotic scene, loud and overwhelming. Then her muscles turn soft. Her head rolls and comes to rest against Ciel.
Voices fade. Colors fade.
And then her eyes are open.
---
Thank you everyone. It has been a pleasure to know you for what time I could.
I will miss you all too. Trust me, Raven, when I say that Levi meant the same to me.
A bull moose stood at a distance as the last mourner drifted from the cooled body that was once the spirited Eraline. Gustiro stared out across the wood to the young doe, eyes staring and stone hard behind the shadows of his mask.
At his side a small, lanky figure of white and shades of red. Idelle's focus however was on her father, head tilted up with curious, wide eyes. Her red parent's mood was different today. Strange. The young child knew not the grievance that had happened and neither had she yet notice the lifeless form a ways ahead of them.
Gustiro had been resting with his daughter. Hidden deep in the thicker parts of the forest and hazy with sleep. It was a moment of half awareness, a time where he'd half awaken to ensure the fawn at his side was still well and asleep, when a passing breeze brought the scent of blood that caught his attention. Stirring the fawn with a nudge he adorned the skull that often masked his face and headed out.
Now the bull moved with weighted steps. Slow, steady. The green form slowly coming into clearer view, his large antlers casting long shadows across the motionless doe. Her still body bright green, healthy, strong... Like Evania's... But unlike his old friend's the young doe's was stained with blood and was bathed in the stench of a predator. A piercing sting shot through the bull's chest, his heart at this realization. He had lost another, failed in protecting his charges. And for what?
Dark brown eyes drift down to Idelle, one of a few selfish wants, his desire to have and keep as his own, as the infant finally notices Eraline laying near by. Gustiro does not move to stop his daughter as she bounds over and nudges her green babysitter to stir her from sleep.
Wake up, the fawn insists with nudges and pokes not minding the appearance and smell of blood. After all Eraline and her parents often smelled of it because of fights they've gotten themselves into. She shuffles around to the green does face and reaches forward to press her nose to Eraline's forehead, her nose, her cheek. It is time to play, she is trying to tell her older friend.
"Play!" She suddenly chirps excitedly in further attempts to arouse her.
It is at this time Gustiro lowers his head to the young fawn. His ears are perked, his eyes never soften.
"Is no play, Iddy biddy. Is dead." The bull attempted to explain his tone cold. Most may have thought it harsh. To tell such a young child. To say so plainly and hard. But to him this was something that should be known early.
Idelle stared up at her father attentively as he spoke. Dead. This is not a sound she understands nor the seriousness of it. With a giggle she hops away from her father to nestle herself beside Eraline's belly. Fine, if Eraline wishes to sleep then Idelle would nap with her. The white fawn nudged her nose under her green babysitter's neck to hide her face from the sun and with a sigh of contentment closed her eyes to doze.
The bull lifted his head and his chest inflated with a deep, quivering breath as he watched his daughter, blood smearing into the flawless whites of her pelt and a few patches of fur darkening to the reds of her markings. It was no good he realized. She could not understand, not yet.
He allowed the fawn to stay where she was as he stepped over the two smaller bodies and carefully settled at Eraline's back. He brushed off the skull he wore, holding it between his forelegs. Face bare he leaned forward and brushed his lips to the green doe's ear to whisper.
"In the darkest hour may the light find you and carry you on the wings born of spirit and hope. May your an...ces...tors before you lead you on to the path that shall bore you anew. Is you... as you have breathed your last breath for us; I breath my last breath of the day for you. In the name of Eraline."
The words seemed to flow easier then he could remember. Satisfied with the spoken prayer he lay his head beside the lifeless doe. He would allow Idelle to rest for now while he mourned the body. Strange. In a time before the forest he never needed to mourn a corpse. He felt no need in the past like he did the deer he lost now. Again he wondered if tears would have soothed the flooding pain in his chest and belly. Tears he knew not how to make.
A sacrifice, he thought. This was what it was. As Evania's death was. Evania was a sacrifice to keep Dinah Moon. Eraline, the imagine of a beautiful daughter, a sacrifice to keep his tiny Idelle.
Guilt.
He was slowly abandoning his duty. Or rather what he thought was his burden. Imaginary or real it was still devastatingly painful. This guilt. And here he added another guilt to the pile. He spoke when he should not have for the sake of tradition.
"Is sorry, Eraline. Is love you..."
(I am sorry I wasn't there for it. As you know I was not feeling good and it got to the point I had to lay down or I'd regret it. Eraline will be missed.<3
I wanted to add this song. I think it fits with the words Eraline and friends have spoken to each other.)
Gust - It's no problem at all, I knew you were having a tough time with your flu. Your post was so beautiful, I'm sorry they had to miss each other. <3
Kaoori - Thank you, my real life has been waiting for me for a long time now.
This will probably be the last comment I leave here. Take care of yourselves, everyone.
once again people are going to kill me. sorry guys..
but on some chance you ever see this again, i want to let you know i miss and love you both ♥
i was stumbling around through some old tef stuff, and i came across an old "who are you" post, and the deer in question was your lady eraline. i do miss seeing her pictogram in forest.
crazy to think its been good over 2 years. still looking back i get sad every time
Hushed sounds of tentative hooves on the dry grasses of the birch washed across the unmarked grave. A long shadow stretched forward as the figure casting it stepped near. The Monarch Runner paused and the sun brushed over the mask that he wore as he tilted his head slightly to one side making it glisten for a moment. He stood tall, his head held high, his pupils touching the bottom rim of his mask as he looked at the bare, empty ground as if he was looking down at Eraline herself. There was hurt and anger in his honey hued eyes, but there was also condescension.
"I would say that... 'you may have thought I had forgotten you, since I had not visited in so long'. I would say that 'you were mistaken because I am here now'. However, I know that you would not be worrying your pretty little head over that.. as it is I who is forgotten. You said you had never forgotten me, that you never would."
It was then that his tone was raised in frustration. "You said you would be listening!"
But quickly it turned to a hushed breath as his eyes slid closed. "But... I never feel you here... You are a ghost beyond yesterday as is my brother now and forever more. I will not lie to you, Eraline. I... I miss you. I miss Bishop. Anytime I wake unto this forest I think of him... and you... my first friend that wasn't my twin."
He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly past his lips as he opened his eyes once more. Though he stood as her superior, as her lecturer, the truth was that he still mourned his losses. The loss of the only two souls that he had ever cared for as long as he could remember. "You fled, and in doing so you took my brother's mind and heart with you and so he fled, and you left me... lonely."
The condescension seemed to vanish, the proud stance melting into a slump. The Crumbling Ruin allowed silence to invade the space around him. His eyes unfocusing as he lost himself in thought. Then, with a shift of his weight, he continued.
"You were right about one thing... I had yet to start living at all. I still have yet to live this life. But I want to change that. I want to be more then a mirage. More then a passing shadow in the thoughts of my peers. I want to be remembered and I have taken steps to make my mark on the minds of others. But... I am scared, Little Clover." He scoffed at himself for admitting the weakness. "Being forgotten, a shadow, a passing thought, because of it I had the advantage. I could come and go as I pleased, I gained and lost nothing. It was freedom. And that was all we had ever wanted, Bishop and I, in a time before memory. Now that freedom... it feels like chains around my neck, pulling me down. I am choking on that - " the last word was practically spat out " - freedom. Had I known freedom would feel so... isolating I would have stayed in my bindings."
"I need guidance, Eraline, but I don't know who else to come to. Please... Give me a sign that you are listening. Anything to show that you have not forgotten me. Give me reason to believe I even deserve to be remembered. By you, by any one of them. Help me to learn to cast my own light, since my brother's has fled. Please..."
He let out a hefty sigh before lowering his head and depositing a necklace from his antlers onto the ground. Threaded through the delicate silver chain were several charms, a Rook, a Bishop, and a... Queen all in silver, and two golden Myosotis charms between each. The Chariot stared blankly at the trinket for a moment before turning and quietly leaving.
On the other side, Eraline has feet – has had feet – for as long as she can remember now. Only vaguely does she recall the sensation of grass bending beneath the hooves she had once stood proudly upon, but as she watches the stag emerge from among the birch, his hooves digging into soft brown earth with every weary step, for a moment, she is jealous of his being, and of his feeling. The veil of purgatory surrounds her thickly. It catches the light of this forest, which she had loved with all her being and loathed equally as well toward the end, like dew drops caught in the stick of a spider web. The fragments of her unreality catch in his tines as he nears. He lifts his head in her direction, knowing without knowing – without even believing – that she is still there, and the thread that bounded them together years ago grows taught, beckoning for her to look. She is needed. She is being remembered.
Rook.
They had played together when they were fawns. He didn’t wear a mask then, and he’d smiled more than he would ever come to smile later, when he’d grown and found her again, and she’d…
She hears him speak her name like a whisper against her ear. That is what prayers to her always sounded like back when they came from Jo and Henna and Ciel, or when Phaios would end the night at the top of their favorite hill to tell her stories about the savanna even after she had passed. Prayers touched her in that deep and honest place where only love resides, each word a caress against the frayed edges of her soul. Today, she hears Rook’s voice for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, feels his voice like a kiss against the back of her neck, and she aches, her naked human body suddenly not enough to contain her or the shame that sets her nerves aflame.
Purgatory has allowed her the privilege of seeing and being and waiting above the very bones of her old self, now long since buried. But she cannot feel the grass, and when the winter storms blow in, she cannot feel the icy sting of the air. It has been so long since she has felt, and the urgency of the moment brings her to her feet. She reaches for Rook through the veil while he admonishes her for her cowardice and draws the tips of her fingers slowly down the center of his mask, between those hard, honey brown eyes that she’d once nearly not recognized, but could now not ever forget. They are not just his eyes. They are Bishops, and the eyes of the children she might’ve one day had. They are the betrayers of his emotions, the home where Rook’s soul has settled and now rages, tormented, by the loneliness he has been left with.
“I’m a bastard.” She says, her voice thick and slow from lack of use; foreign to her own ears. She guides her fingers across his cheekbones and over the curves of his cheeks to cup them, though maintaining the grasp is a struggle, for he cannot feel her. “And I’ve always been a bastard. And so was Bishop. And so were you.”
The veil shimmers between them, perturbed by her persistence in trying to breach it for contact to a world she long ago left; she defies it and leans close enough to press her forehead against his mask. In a different life, she would be able to feel the warmth of his breath against his chin. Maybe someday, they will both have legs and hands, and her stay in purgatory will come to end with him at her side.
"But we were bastards with the moon in our hands. We were the majesty of the stars and the heat of the sun. We were the thunderstorms we used to play in as fawns. Do you remember, Rook? We were the force of waterfalls. The difference is, you’re still here. And you’re still all those things.”
He is leaving her. She senses it even before he begins to pull away, unknowingly, from her shaking hands. When he does, she feels the loss in the pit of her stomach, in her joints, in her chest.
Help me learn to cast my own light, since my brother’s has fled. Please…
The charmed necklace plops gently to the ground between them. Her vision blurs hotly. Eraline drops to her knees to examine the trinket for the first time, fascinated by its detailed delicacy. When she touches it, she feels it the way she’d not been able to feel Rook, or the air, or the wind. It’s still warm from where it had been catching sunlight in his antlers. She clutches it with both hands, thumbs the dips and curves of each charm until she’s sure she’ll remember their shapes even when she closes her eyes, or when a thousand years pass, and she is still here waiting. When she has had her fill, she lifts it to her lips and presses a kiss to the crown, to the Rook.
“I’m with you. You are the light that I cannot help but see, my Chariot.”
Before she can convince herself otherwise, she balls the necklace in her fist and whips it sharply across the ground, past the veil, which shimmers angrily at the intrusion. The necklace skids through the scrub and collides with the back of his retreating right hoof. A calling card. This is how he would know. Already, the veil is thickening, distorting the sight of him like ripples on the surface of a lake.
The Chariot paused as he felt the necklace bump the back of a hoof. He stood still, only a single ear swiveled back towards from which he came. After a moment, and with slow caution, his head then followed, peering behind him with a suspicious expression. Lifting his right back hoof he glanced down at where the necklace lay before again taking a quick scan of his surroundings and taking a taste of the air. Not a soul did he see, not a soul did he sense.
The realization hit him then, like a warm wave across his back that sent an ache to spread through his chest. Could this be the sign that he had asked for? Could she truly be listening? Had she truly remembered? He closed his eyes, his features hard in concentration, as he fought the stinging sensation that threatened to expose the emotions that begun to fill his entire body.
Opening his eyes once more he stooped down to collect the necklace, taking the delicate chain between his front teeth. He returned to the humble grave site and gently laid it back upon the ground. His face lingered close for the moment as his voice awoke once more, hushed and full of gratitude. "Thank you, Little Clover." His eyes fluttered shut again and a soft, short grunt escaped him as he failed to fight back what he had earlier. The moisture that soon painted his cheeks were hidden conveniently behind the mask that he was rarely seen without.
"I'll come visit again... soon."
He slowly stood straight again and with a small nod turned away once more to take his leave.
Levi. The doe who had always
"Spitfire..." She chokes out before she is overcome with a fit of gasping coughs that leave speckles of blood along her lower lip. It passes, and she inhales sharply but putting on a smile. "Not leaving...always...in your heart. Always in...mine. Forever..."
These scattered thoughts are the best she can do, her very best now. And for Mimi, a gentle promise of forever. Another eye to wear in Heaven.
How shall you find the secret
How shall you find the secret of death unless you seek it in the heath of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and sea are one. In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity.
Your fear of death is but the trembling of the shepherd when he stands before the king whose hand is to be laid upon him in honor. Is the shepherd not joyful beneath his trembling, that he shall wear the mark of the king? Yet is he not more mindful of his trembling?For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?
Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.
Bao huddled up close to
Just another pleasant day, safe and warm by her aunt's side.
Amelia's tears flow in
[ Faustt you always have the most beautiful writings.. ;__; ♥ ]
With so many others
"The secret...to not being scared....is to remember that...that..." Eraline turns her face into the ground as she struggles with a bloody lump in her throat. It comes out in one violent cough and it is a long moment before she can pull her head up again. Closer now, so that her lips are near the girl's ear. "there's no such thing...as not being...scared...only...we have no choice..sometimes. So don't...be scared by things...all the time, okay? Be...brave, Bao...brave like Mimi....but also Brave...like Bao."
He had been hiding, secluding
Everything seemed to be happening so slow, but the minute Eraline tripped over the predators tail, everything flashed by. Eyes were glued to her and only her, even as other deer charged in to rid of her attacker. The stag then made his move, his body heavy, movements too. Eyes peered down to her with disbelief. Here she was mortally wounded... but it had not hit him yet. - Hoof steps were heard, friends and family of hers? He would ward them off, 'NO! NO! Stay the fuck away!'... but he could only do it for so long. Tears were forming, body was growing far too heavy.
The orange stag would collapse before Eraline and unable to hold back his sobbing, fiery hot tears would be released, rolling from the sockets of his eyes, melting with warm pools of blood... he didn't care who seen. The side of his head would brush against her drained form, inhaling... her scent mixed with oozing bodily fluids, but he needed to capture her scent one last time. Everything was setting in... "No.... Eraline", his voice pathetic and whiny, pleading. "D...don't leave me"... he continued, still, his tone the same, pathetic and pleading. The tip of his skull would brush through the fur along a single shoulder. He burned, he ached... 'FAILURE', he would cry out to himself. How could he have let this happen?
It was too late though... too late... too late. He couldn't safe her now...
"I did so much wrong, nothing was ever your fault... I-I never wanted you to hurt, but you did. Please don't hurt anymore... please go to someplace wonderful... I just regret not being able to make here that wonderful place for you... but now you have a chance to experience it. I will never forget you Eraline. You shined brighter than any star, were prettier than any flower, more graceful than the ponds smooth current. You were an angel, a real angel". The stag would shake his head, loosening the flowers from his tines, letting them adorn her bloody form. "Goodbye... Eraline. Even in death I will always remember you as my daughter. Live in a place that is neither hot nor cold, but just right". It was all he could say... Regret, guilt, it would never leave him.
Xetkal would take a deep breath, tears still not under control, yet he would rise then look down to her, getting one last look... the last time he would see her... and it had to be this way. The mental image would never leave, the stench of blood, everything about this scene... haunting. He would dip his head to those around him before taking his leave, leaving before he lost his mind and those close to her joined her in death... no, they didn't deserve it. He would go mentally deteriorate in silence, alone.
--
Sad to see her go. I tried to find music but couldn't find anything good enough.
She is beginning to give in
Your parents are where?
I'm not a tool you can use to prove yourself to earn the respect of these imaginary people!
Okay, Daddy, now you climb up those rocks and kill the awful beast!
A world of memories...a short lifetime. Bitterness and anger. Stress and frustration. But also love, somewhere beyond that, always beneath it, love. Even when there was nothing first but hate.
Daddy...she thinks, though he has no longer her father, but in this strange tilting between past and present he is somehow still it. So she thinks, Daddy... and then tries to say but the words can't come out and she is exhausted, numb.
And then he's gone and there's nothing left to do but give in to the wave of the past.
Bao's ear turned to face the
Be brave... like Mimi, yes. But... like Bao?
"No," she said, voice muffled, shaking her head, denying it all. "Brave... brave like Eraline..."
Her first instinct is to rush
Her second is to run, to run and never stop; surely this was just a nightmare, and she'd awaken soon.
But as the din of the world roars itself into black silence and the painful truth sets in, all she can do is stand paralyzed, entranced by the one other creature left in the world: Eraline.
Eraline, the bright fawn.
Eraline, the headstrong doe.
Eraline, her steadfast companion.
Eraline, fading fast.
Her muted hoofbeats reached her only dimly; she felt detached, apart from herself as she edged closer to the wounded doe and those who surrounded her.
Carefully, hesitantly, she lay beside the one who had taught her to laugh again - who now reminded her why she had stopped in the first place.
"You didn't mean to leave without my goodbye, did you?" Phaios murmurs, pressing her nose in the soft pocket behind one of Eraline's ears. She doesn't bother pushing back the tears, letting them slick her cheeks with lines of brown-black where they've wet her fur.
"Rest, Little One... You're safe now. I promised that, didn't I." The doe pauses, trying not to choke. "You are loved," is all she can manage before she finds her throat closed too tightly for words.
When she finds Eraline's sides no longer fluttering with breath, Phai turns her eyes skyward.
"Mother, watch over her; Great-grandfather, guard her steps."
Phai, that's so beautiful.
Also wanted to tell you, Cassie, that the times spent with Eraline were some of my favorites and will always be treasured by me and my characters. Thank you for sharing your beautiful creations, and yourself with us. Good luck in the future. We'll miss you. So much.
"There is....no goodbye when
Because for Eraline, Phaios is life. Is a thousand lives and a million stories and a trillion lessons. The answer is a no brainer. She knows that she will have to wait a while though. Lives do not just start over without all the others tied into them. It will be a while, but she can wait, the same way she will wait for Ciel, for Henna, Jokerman, Krystal, for Syahi and Rook and Bishop. She will wait for Phaios and then all together they will start anew. Perhaps as better people. Perhaps as worse. Either way they will know each other, and that is worth waiting for, come what may. So she exhales, shallow and quivering, Phai's warmth on her face.
With it goes the last of her strength. The tension. A burst of light that curls in on itself, allows itself to be eaten by darkness. A second when her life plays out in one swift and chaotic scene, loud and overwhelming. Then her muscles turn soft. Her head rolls and comes to rest against Ciel.
Voices fade. Colors fade.
And then her eyes are open.
---
Thank you everyone. It has been a pleasure to know you for what time I could.
I will miss you all too. Trust me, Raven, when I say that Levi meant the same to me.
A bull moose stood at a
A bull moose stood at a distance as the last mourner drifted from the cooled body that was once the spirited Eraline. Gustiro stared out across the wood to the young doe, eyes staring and stone hard behind the shadows of his mask.
At his side a small, lanky figure of white and shades of red. Idelle's focus however was on her father, head tilted up with curious, wide eyes. Her red parent's mood was different today. Strange. The young child knew not the grievance that had happened and neither had she yet notice the lifeless form a ways ahead of them.
Gustiro had been resting with his daughter. Hidden deep in the thicker parts of the forest and hazy with sleep. It was a moment of half awareness, a time where he'd half awaken to ensure the fawn at his side was still well and asleep, when a passing breeze brought the scent of blood that caught his attention. Stirring the fawn with a nudge he adorned the skull that often masked his face and headed out.
Now the bull moved with weighted steps. Slow, steady. The green form slowly coming into clearer view, his large antlers casting long shadows across the motionless doe. Her still body bright green, healthy, strong... Like Evania's... But unlike his old friend's the young doe's was stained with blood and was bathed in the stench of a predator. A piercing sting shot through the bull's chest, his heart at this realization. He had lost another, failed in protecting his charges. And for what?
Dark brown eyes drift down to Idelle, one of a few selfish wants, his desire to have and keep as his own, as the infant finally notices Eraline laying near by. Gustiro does not move to stop his daughter as she bounds over and nudges her green babysitter to stir her from sleep.
Wake up, the fawn insists with nudges and pokes not minding the appearance and smell of blood. After all Eraline and her parents often smelled of it because of fights they've gotten themselves into. She shuffles around to the green does face and reaches forward to press her nose to Eraline's forehead, her nose, her cheek. It is time to play, she is trying to tell her older friend.
"Play!" She suddenly chirps excitedly in further attempts to arouse her.
It is at this time Gustiro lowers his head to the young fawn. His ears are perked, his eyes never soften.
"Is no play, Iddy biddy. Is dead." The bull attempted to explain his tone cold. Most may have thought it harsh. To tell such a young child. To say so plainly and hard. But to him this was something that should be known early.
Idelle stared up at her father attentively as he spoke. Dead. This is not a sound she understands nor the seriousness of it. With a giggle she hops away from her father to nestle herself beside Eraline's belly. Fine, if Eraline wishes to sleep then Idelle would nap with her. The white fawn nudged her nose under her green babysitter's neck to hide her face from the sun and with a sigh of contentment closed her eyes to doze.
The bull lifted his head and his chest inflated with a deep, quivering breath as he watched his daughter, blood smearing into the flawless whites of her pelt and a few patches of fur darkening to the reds of her markings. It was no good he realized. She could not understand, not yet.
He allowed the fawn to stay where she was as he stepped over the two smaller bodies and carefully settled at Eraline's back. He brushed off the skull he wore, holding it between his forelegs. Face bare he leaned forward and brushed his lips to the green doe's ear to whisper.
"In the darkest hour may the light find you and carry you on the wings born of spirit and hope. May your an...ces...tors before you lead you on to the path that shall bore you anew. Is you... as you have breathed your last breath for us; I breath my last breath of the day for you. In the name of Eraline."
The words seemed to flow easier then he could remember. Satisfied with the spoken prayer he lay his head beside the lifeless doe. He would allow Idelle to rest for now while he mourned the body. Strange. In a time before the forest he never needed to mourn a corpse. He felt no need in the past like he did the deer he lost now. Again he wondered if tears would have soothed the flooding pain in his chest and belly. Tears he knew not how to make.
A sacrifice, he thought. This was what it was. As Evania's death was. Evania was a sacrifice to keep Dinah Moon. Eraline, the imagine of a beautiful daughter, a sacrifice to keep his tiny Idelle.
Guilt.
He was slowly abandoning his duty. Or rather what he thought was his burden. Imaginary or real it was still devastatingly painful. This guilt. And here he added another guilt to the pile. He spoke when he should not have for the sake of tradition.
"Is sorry, Eraline. Is love you..."
(I am sorry I wasn't there for it. As you know I was not feeling good and it got to the point I had to lay down or I'd regret it. Eraline will be missed.<3
I wanted to add this song. I think it fits with the words Eraline and friends have spoken to each other.)
this whole thing made me cry
Good luck to you in life, and take care.
Gust - It's no problem at
Kaoori - Thank you, my real life has been waiting for me for a long time now.
This will probably be the last comment I leave here. Take care of yourselves, everyone.
almost a year? no. just
just reading this over makes me want to cry again.
im sorry for bumping this up, but i want to say i miss both of you..
and that, ladies and
we miss you, as well. ♥
^
I never met you, but all the
Good luck to you, wherever you may be now.
Profile picture by ahimsa ♥
Pixel Wis by squeegie~
once again people are going
but on some chance you ever see this again, i want to let you know i miss and love you both ♥
i was stumbling around through some old tef stuff, and i came across an old "who are you" post, and the deer in question was your lady eraline. i do miss seeing her pictogram in forest.
crazy to think its been good over 2 years. still looking back i get sad every time
Hushed sounds of tentative
"I would say that... 'you may have thought I had forgotten you, since I had not visited in so long'. I would say that 'you were mistaken because I am here now'. However, I know that you would not be worrying your pretty little head over that.. as it is I who is forgotten. You said you had never forgotten me, that you never would."
It was then that his tone was raised in frustration. "You said you would be listening!"
But quickly it turned to a hushed breath as his eyes slid closed. "But... I never feel you here... You are a ghost beyond yesterday as is my brother now and forever more. I will not lie to you, Eraline. I... I miss you. I miss Bishop. Anytime I wake unto this forest I think of him... and you... my first friend that wasn't my twin."
He took a deep breath in through his nose and let it out slowly past his lips as he opened his eyes once more. Though he stood as her superior, as her lecturer, the truth was that he still mourned his losses. The loss of the only two souls that he had ever cared for as long as he could remember. "You fled, and in doing so you took my brother's mind and heart with you and so he fled, and you left me... lonely."
The condescension seemed to vanish, the proud stance melting into a slump. The Crumbling Ruin allowed silence to invade the space around him. His eyes unfocusing as he lost himself in thought. Then, with a shift of his weight, he continued.
"You were right about one thing... I had yet to start living at all. I still have yet to live this life. But I want to change that. I want to be more then a mirage. More then a passing shadow in the thoughts of my peers. I want to be remembered and I have taken steps to make my mark on the minds of others. But... I am scared, Little Clover." He scoffed at himself for admitting the weakness. "Being forgotten, a shadow, a passing thought, because of it I had the advantage. I could come and go as I pleased, I gained and lost nothing. It was freedom. And that was all we had ever wanted, Bishop and I, in a time before memory. Now that freedom... it feels like chains around my neck, pulling me down. I am choking on that - " the last word was practically spat out " - freedom. Had I known freedom would feel so... isolating I would have stayed in my bindings."
"I need guidance, Eraline, but I don't know who else to come to. Please... Give me a sign that you are listening. Anything to show that you have not forgotten me. Give me reason to believe I even deserve to be remembered. By you, by any one of them. Help me to learn to cast my own light, since my brother's has fled. Please..."
He let out a hefty sigh before lowering his head and depositing a necklace from his antlers onto the ground. Threaded through the delicate silver chain were several charms, a Rook, a Bishop, and a... Queen all in silver, and two golden Myosotis charms between each. The Chariot stared blankly at the trinket for a moment before turning and quietly leaving.
On the other side, Eraline
Rook.
They had played together when they were fawns. He didn’t wear a mask then, and he’d smiled more than he would ever come to smile later, when he’d grown and found her again, and she’d…
She hears him speak her name like a whisper against her ear. That is what prayers to her always sounded like back when they came from Jo and Henna and Ciel, or when Phaios would end the night at the top of their favorite hill to tell her stories about the savanna even after she had passed. Prayers touched her in that deep and honest place where only love resides, each word a caress against the frayed edges of her soul. Today, she hears Rook’s voice for the first time in what feels like a lifetime, feels his voice like a kiss against the back of her neck, and she aches, her naked human body suddenly not enough to contain her or the shame that sets her nerves aflame.
Purgatory has allowed her the privilege of seeing and being and waiting above the very bones of her old self, now long since buried. But she cannot feel the grass, and when the winter storms blow in, she cannot feel the icy sting of the air. It has been so long since she has felt, and the urgency of the moment brings her to her feet. She reaches for Rook through the veil while he admonishes her for her cowardice and draws the tips of her fingers slowly down the center of his mask, between those hard, honey brown eyes that she’d once nearly not recognized, but could now not ever forget. They are not just his eyes. They are Bishops, and the eyes of the children she might’ve one day had. They are the betrayers of his emotions, the home where Rook’s soul has settled and now rages, tormented, by the loneliness he has been left with.
“I’m a bastard.” She says, her voice thick and slow from lack of use; foreign to her own ears. She guides her fingers across his cheekbones and over the curves of his cheeks to cup them, though maintaining the grasp is a struggle, for he cannot feel her. “And I’ve always been a bastard. And so was Bishop. And so were you.”
The veil shimmers between them, perturbed by her persistence in trying to breach it for contact to a world she long ago left; she defies it and leans close enough to press her forehead against his mask. In a different life, she would be able to feel the warmth of his breath against his chin. Maybe someday, they will both have legs and hands, and her stay in purgatory will come to end with him at her side.
"But we were bastards with the moon in our hands. We were the majesty of the stars and the heat of the sun. We were the thunderstorms we used to play in as fawns. Do you remember, Rook? We were the force of waterfalls. The difference is, you’re still here. And you’re still all those things.”
He is leaving her. She senses it even before he begins to pull away, unknowingly, from her shaking hands. When he does, she feels the loss in the pit of her stomach, in her joints, in her chest.
Help me learn to cast my own light, since my brother’s has fled. Please…
The charmed necklace plops gently to the ground between them. Her vision blurs hotly. Eraline drops to her knees to examine the trinket for the first time, fascinated by its detailed delicacy. When she touches it, she feels it the way she’d not been able to feel Rook, or the air, or the wind. It’s still warm from where it had been catching sunlight in his antlers. She clutches it with both hands, thumbs the dips and curves of each charm until she’s sure she’ll remember their shapes even when she closes her eyes, or when a thousand years pass, and she is still here waiting. When she has had her fill, she lifts it to her lips and presses a kiss to the crown, to the Rook.
“I’m with you. You are the light that I cannot help but see, my Chariot.”
Before she can convince herself otherwise, she balls the necklace in her fist and whips it sharply across the ground, past the veil, which shimmers angrily at the intrusion. The necklace skids through the scrub and collides with the back of his retreating right hoof. A calling card. This is how he would know. Already, the veil is thickening, distorting the sight of him like ripples on the surface of a lake.
“I miss you. I’m with you. I'm waiting."
♥
The Chariot paused as he felt
The realization hit him then, like a warm wave across his back that sent an ache to spread through his chest. Could this be the sign that he had asked for? Could she truly be listening? Had she truly remembered? He closed his eyes, his features hard in concentration, as he fought the stinging sensation that threatened to expose the emotions that begun to fill his entire body.
Opening his eyes once more he stooped down to collect the necklace, taking the delicate chain between his front teeth. He returned to the humble grave site and gently laid it back upon the ground. His face lingered close for the moment as his voice awoke once more, hushed and full of gratitude. "Thank you, Little Clover." His eyes fluttered shut again and a soft, short grunt escaped him as he failed to fight back what he had earlier. The moisture that soon painted his cheeks were hidden conveniently behind the mask that he was rarely seen without.
"I'll come visit again... soon."
He slowly stood straight again and with a small nod turned away once more to take his leave.