Jade Dreams – Orianna Èirigh – 18.06.2024
Jun 24, 2024 14:35:03 GMT
Andy D, Lucky, and 2 more like this
Post by Orianna Èirigh on Jun 24, 2024 14:35:03 GMT
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill omen only,
Where a dragon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—Out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Feythorn woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the blood that drips all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,—
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling Lily.
Haunted by ill omen only,
Where a dragon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule—
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE—Out of TIME.
Bottomless vales and boundless floods,
And chasms, and caves, and Feythorn woods,
With forms that no man can discover
For the blood that drips all over;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore;
Seas that restlessly aspire,
Surging, unto skies of fire;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters—lone and dead,—
Their still waters—still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling Lily.
. ୭ ˚○◦˚·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙˚◦○˚ ୧ .
Florian’s laurel of jewelled jade leaves glitters in the sparks of the tree of fire. His circle, the Circle of Jade near the fringes of the Feythorn Forest, is a magnificent thing. She should be happy, she should be dancing. But Orianna finds it hard to move her cloven feet — at least, in a way that wouldn’t end in blood.
She shakes her head as her cousin guides herself and Frigus over to the pillar of stone carved with an effigy of Malar. A crystal sculpture in a vaguely humanoid shape rests at the base of the pillar, blood dripping down from the clawed insignia of the Beastlord in an endless drip… drip… drip… to land on the head of the crystal statue. Orianna wonders if her cousin realises he has made a lesser, almost crude ode to Calla.
“Ya know, people have been known to have many misconceptions about Malar,” Florian starts. “Some of the believers, their practices, I don’t agree with their ‘how’…”
He continues to speak, but it’s like the sounds fade away. There’s just the crackling of the jade fire tree, the sounds of music from Longwalker’s panpipes echoing through a vast space, the wind lifting the thin dark fabric of her skirts, and a growing growl deep in her chest.
“The Beastlord be with us when I go to save her,” she hears herself saying in a mix of druid and draconic. One periwinkle hand lifts up and touches the edge of the claw marks. The moment her fingers dip into the blood, the growl in her chest rises up into her ears and black shining claws extend from her fingertips. “Guide our hunt,” Orianna growls. “Mark our prey. Let us destroy the trap caging our sister, Calla, so she can be free to come back with us. For this, my blood will not rest until it is so.”
Her claws sharpen as woolen cloak Frigus had knit for them extends down her back, making her form into something more bestial, more feral than anything Orianna has ever let herself be before. With new power in her muscled arms and more force in her step than she has ever felt, she throws her head back and lets out a roar that tears through her chest and throat.
And then she is hunting deep into the night…
. ୭ ˚○◦˚·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙˚◦○˚ ୧ .
By a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill devils only,
Where a dragon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
Haunted by ill devils only,
Where a dragon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule.
Poem is a modified and shortened version of Edgar Alan Poe's 'Dream-Land'