The air is slowly becoming less humid, and I can smell it. It's an odd smell, musty but in a good way. I can smell a very faint cinnamon in the air. In fact I can nearly taste it, my tongue longing for the tastes of cinnamon and apple cider. I feel the Sun drawing away, not bearing down on the world as much as it had before. I feel the wind start to become chilly, cooling my body while I step out into the sunlight. I see the leaves begin their journey, preparing themselves for the long fall to the Earth by changing their color. It will take time but their trek must be done. I hear the wind brush upon the leaves, rustling them and creating the sound much like pom poms. It makes me long to watch Football once again. I hear another journey occurring above me, as geese fly overhead, making their own trip to warmer lands.
I sense all of these, and deep within I smile and realize...
[Hey everyone! I have a diary for on the Forums. When I feel like a diary entry is good enough (meaning, it touches me in some way), I post it here. Enjoy! If you like some music while you read, click here.]
Today, after praying and having a drink, played with a fawn that bore a God's name. He appreciated the playfulness of the blessed ones, and how the Gods were speaking their truth, love, and power through such behavior. Although the Gods were rarely, if ever, severe with the deer of the Forest, had a sense of the Gods' absolute power over this corner of time and space and that they alone had the power to dissolve it. The kindness and mischief of the blessed ones were a reminder that, while all-power over the affairs of the Forest, were intimately connected with it and loved its components down to the atoms that made up the dust.
The twenty fourth day, of the eighth month of the year... I rose, to dedicate myself to the Forest, and the souls within Her.
Now how long has it been, oh children of the Forest?
How many have passed while my minds eye was elsewhere? How many have lingered and wandered without guidance of any sort? How many have I hurt with my unexpected leave?
Two years tomorrow I will have walked upon this ground. And I return to you now, to serve you, and to walk with you upon this ground...
I am here, I am here.
I fell into a sort of, spiritual depression awhile ago, and with it, my first serious character ever fell into darkness. I never intended this, but life has a way of its own to mess you up. I feel like I should bring her back now, after looking at her bio tonight and seeing the date I created her... it will be two years tomorrow for her... I owe the spiritual Mother of the forest something, and the least I could do is update her biography.
Hey guys. Trying this for the first time. Real, live violence. It may start slow and wary, because I have never tried something this deep from my soul before. These are MY emotions, about what I have been through in my life, and what I am going through. Please be aware, I can and and will get deep into there pain, okay?
In the night, it's here again
I hear the sounds of strangest things
How could anyone sleep in this noise
Footsteps, weeping, the howling of wind
Chill of soul and coldness of heart
Whispers tell of merciless faiths
A shiver is running down my back
As I hear the voice-like sound closing up...
Convincing, it's not, to tell of logic
When in the night you hear someone breathe
When in the midnight you see a shadow
And in the darkness the glow of eyes...
Snapping, creaking, stepping, cracking
Fear can't describe the panicking feel
Just close your eyes though it's coming closer
And tell yourself that the sound isn't real...
Here he comes, that selfish, arrogant, cocky asswipe, who thought she was his, and no one else's. He struts towards her, his handsome face smiling ever so wryly, as if he had won the lottery, and was simply being smug about it.
He approaches, making a move to rub the side of her face. Surprisingly, she doesn't budge; he's quite surprised. Normally, she would writhe from his touch, a dolphin not quite in love with the eel. He becomes even more surprised when she returns the gesture; her helm is smooth like polished porcelain, her white fur short and oh so soft. He finds himself flinching slightly from the rather pleasurable sensation.
Without a word, she walks not even turning to him - he follows, of course. It was only natural to chase what you couldn't have, to try and grab it, capture it, put it in a pretty little jar and call it yours. She doesn't seem to be in any rush to get away however; she keeps an even pace, confidence in every step.
on the Forums. When I feel like a diary entry is good enough (meaning, it touches me in some way), I post it here. Enjoy! If you like some music while you read, click here.]
