08-08-2018, 11:55 PM
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Cinzel+Decorative|Crimson+Text|Open+Sans+Condensed:300" rel="stylesheet">
<div style="margin:auto;width:490px;border:1px solid #000;padding:365px 30px 10px 30px;background:url('https://s26.postimg.cc/lfpeuqc89/virgo.png') top no-repeat, #F6F7FB;background-size:550px;font:14px open sans condensed;color:#57474a;text-align:center;line-height:14px;border-radius:275px 275px 0px 0px;">there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands - hands that map
a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
<div style="padding:40px 30px;text-align:justify;color:#daa7a4;font:14px crimson text;border:3px solid #f0e4e2;border-radius:30%/45px;border-top:0px;border-bottom:0px;margin:-20px 0px -40px 0px;"> A few drops of navy blue blood drool from her chin while her lower lip quivers in fear. She does not know if she is strong enough to save the little mole from the grievous wound she has inflicted on him. His breathing is ragged and he grows weaker by the second, but she knows she must try at the very least. Meanwhile, the other moles have taken to bowing around their goddess and their dying friend while they hum what must be hymns. Even in the chaos, the sound is oddly soothing to her troubled soul, but there is work to be done.
Virgo reaches down and touches her lips to the bleeding mole’s stomach where she ripped the tender muscle from him. She reaches into the hivemind and borrows everything they know of these worshippers. As the nerves and tissue weave themselves across the gap, centuries of memories flood her mind. They have always longed for her arrival, going so far as to carve her form into the stones that protrude from the sand. The hive children wove tales of their goddess’ greatness and taught them the songs to greet her with. Every day of their lives revolved tirelessly around their worship of her. While some may find this devotion as great praise for their ego, Virgo finds herself humbled. She finds herself so small in the shadow of their devotion. How could she be worthy of such love?
But a paw is touching her face and she is drawn from the memories of the swarm. The weakened mole is thanking her in his strange tongue, sideways mouth still beaming up at her with such gratitude and joy. She’s surprised at how soft his skin is against hers, how warm he is even in the dead of a desert night. The girl leans her head into his strange little hand and sighs in relief that he has survived. He returns to his people and joins them in their bows.
<I>Now what?
What next?
Another test?</i>
The children murmur amongst one another as they come to terms with the miracle they have witnessed before them. Their votes are cast and the sound is like trying to pick out a single voice in a senseless crowd, but it doesn’t take long before they begin to chant <I>sister, sister, sister</i>. They spring from the ground in a burst of sparkling silver sand and crowd her so quickly that the moles are skittering to make way for them without being tread upon. Each child giggles and runs their fingers across her slick glass and ink skin while the shimmering silver moles join in their celebrations. They don’t understand the reason for such rejoicing, but they too are overwhelmed with glee.
“Where shall we go next, then?” Virgo asks in between her own laughter. The question does not interrupt their celebrations but rather adds to their excitement. One sister, particularly smaller than most, hugs herself around one of Virgo’s raptor legs and listens patiently to the others’ ideas and suggestions of planets or galaxies. Her cherub face frowns at the idea of leaving their flock, however.
“<I>What about them?</i>”
Her voice is just breaths above a whisper but it brings a sudden and eerie hush over the hivemind. They turn to face the moles again, each of the laity fumbling nervously with their paws or hugging each other tightly in consolation. They had never thought their goddess would leave them once she finally arrived. They had never even thought to fear her departure. Virgo remembers their monuments and their carvings, their undying loyalty to her even before they knew her voice with their own ears. Shame flickers across the swarm’s hearts. They had not considered the effect their absence would have on the moles. Then, a word begins to echo across their thoughts as soft as cashmere: <I>stay.
Stay.
Stay. Stay. Stay.</i>
But Virgo slips between the children once her sister has released her and touches her nose to the nearest mole. Gently, she skims the memories from it and shares it across the hivemind. This one is a mother, with the father curled beside her. Their three children shuffle nervously just behind them. The swarm stares in awe as they learn the relation of each mole until they begin to learn their roles within the society. This one is a hunter while that one over there watches over the young. Some expand their burrows down beneath the sand to make room for new additions to their little pack. The mole that had been taken as a sacrifice had no mate or children of his own, but he tended to the older members of their society and brought them food each day. Each member is as important as the next.
The three-tailed Virgo steps back then and marvels at how complex their lives are, just as she had worried before. Her head aches as every minute detail floods her mind and she blinks in time with a hummingbird heart at the realization. She could not linger here forever, though, much as she wanted to. This was not her home just as she was not a true goddess. But how could she leave them without some gift for their unconditional love and adoration? She turns to the children as the question repeats through all their thoughts.
<I>Tree of knowledge. Let them feast. Let them grow.</i>
She nods and watches as the swarm children turn the sand into a sapling, which then grows into a full tree. Fat red fruit hangs from the white branches while pale pink leaves rustle in the light breeze. Where true gods had kept fire and knowledge and power from their people, they now choose to give it willingly. The moles are hesitant, though, until the children lightly nudge Virgo to speak to them.
“<font color=57474a>Do not fear, my darlings. This is my gift to you: a tree that requires no water or sun, just your love. In return, it will give you the answers to any question you ask of it,</font>” she explains before lightly kissing the forehead of the mother mole. The Queen, she has decided, after seeing the softness and the care in her heart for all the members of her pack. The moles quickly circle her once Virgo has retreated and congratulate her in soft coos and chirps.
Then, in the blink of an eye, they are floating amidst the dust that was once a planet, lightyears from the moles and their sweet songs. She reaches a clawed finger through the glimmering shards around them that had once been life some eons ago. The children float around her, sometimes slipping through one another in their weightless voyage, leaving eyes or mouths in the wrong body. They offer her images of using this dust to make her own planet, maybe her own Beqanna with a fresh new start. Together, they could show her how to sculpt the Forsaken Valley and fill it with every face she’s ever loved and lost. Her breath shudders at the thought of having it all return to her so easily.
Somewhere in between the memories of the Valley, the children slip Pantheon into their imaginary world, slumbering beneath an oak tree. She can almost feel the summer sun on her back as she imagines watching him nap. He is, or rather was, all legs and knobby knees; he is perfection in her tired eyes. But she knows that is not her real son. No, the real Pantheon is a man now, wandering somewhere and making a life for himself. A clone would only ever be a substitute for her true son. Time is not hers to rewind or cheat to regain what she has forfeited. A slow sigh leaves her lips as she turns to the swarm children.
“<font color=57474a>I have grown to love you all, your infant horns and the scars where your wings used to be. But my home needs me… I need it,</font>” she says as her voice cracks. They are her brothers and sisters in pain but she cannot force herself into a life that does not fit her, much as she would like to. The hive draws closer to her and they each hug tight to their newest sibling. She has lessened their pain, as they had hoped, so then why is saying goodbye such agony? Crimson tears well up in their glowing white eyes and stain their cheeks as they spill in violent sobs. Each little droplet lands on Virgo’s skin and carves a trail across her, wiping away her new shape in exchange for the old. With so many little eyes crying, it doesn’t take long before she’s a little gray mare with a barbed spine again.
She blinks away her own tears, and when she opens her eyes she finds herself standing at the edge of the lake once again. The three little fish that had called her belly home swim off and leave her with only her reflection now. Virgo listens hard for the sound of the swarm children sniffling or calling her name, almost desperately. No foreign thoughts invade her mind or show her their own ideas. The hivemind has severed itself from her own.
“<font color=57474a>Please, please stay here with me,</font>” she whispers desperately. “<font color=57474a>Please come back. I don’t want you all to leave too.</font>” But the words only stir a few light ripples across the water. Her heart sinks and she lays on the grass with her legs curled beneath her. She reminds herself to be mindful of her claws only to realize she has her hooves once again. Her chest feels so hollow now as she resigns herself to something like defeat. Her tears continue to soak her cheeks as she drifts into an exhausted sleep with fitful dreams.
An hour passes, then two. The sun is just peaking over the horizon when an ink black hand reaches from the lake to caress her cheek. She stirs without waking, though she does mumble some incoherent lament. The hand slips back beneath the surface.
Somewhere, a child is crying.</div>
<div style="font:30px cinzel decorative;margin-bottom:-10px;">Virgo</div>
he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship<BR>and, <I>oh,</i> you put him on his knees.</div>
1,686 words.
Her weakness, the children's tears of love, returned her to normal.
The children returned her exactly where and when they took her but left her memories.
Also HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY NEO!!!! <3 <3 <3
<div style="margin:auto;width:490px;border:1px solid #000;padding:365px 30px 10px 30px;background:url('https://s26.postimg.cc/lfpeuqc89/virgo.png') top no-repeat, #F6F7FB;background-size:550px;font:14px open sans condensed;color:#57474a;text-align:center;line-height:14px;border-radius:275px 275px 0px 0px;">there’s no part of scripture that ever prepared you for his hands - hands that map
a communion in the cradle of your hips. hands that kiss hymns up your sides.
<div style="padding:40px 30px;text-align:justify;color:#daa7a4;font:14px crimson text;border:3px solid #f0e4e2;border-radius:30%/45px;border-top:0px;border-bottom:0px;margin:-20px 0px -40px 0px;"> A few drops of navy blue blood drool from her chin while her lower lip quivers in fear. She does not know if she is strong enough to save the little mole from the grievous wound she has inflicted on him. His breathing is ragged and he grows weaker by the second, but she knows she must try at the very least. Meanwhile, the other moles have taken to bowing around their goddess and their dying friend while they hum what must be hymns. Even in the chaos, the sound is oddly soothing to her troubled soul, but there is work to be done.
Virgo reaches down and touches her lips to the bleeding mole’s stomach where she ripped the tender muscle from him. She reaches into the hivemind and borrows everything they know of these worshippers. As the nerves and tissue weave themselves across the gap, centuries of memories flood her mind. They have always longed for her arrival, going so far as to carve her form into the stones that protrude from the sand. The hive children wove tales of their goddess’ greatness and taught them the songs to greet her with. Every day of their lives revolved tirelessly around their worship of her. While some may find this devotion as great praise for their ego, Virgo finds herself humbled. She finds herself so small in the shadow of their devotion. How could she be worthy of such love?
But a paw is touching her face and she is drawn from the memories of the swarm. The weakened mole is thanking her in his strange tongue, sideways mouth still beaming up at her with such gratitude and joy. She’s surprised at how soft his skin is against hers, how warm he is even in the dead of a desert night. The girl leans her head into his strange little hand and sighs in relief that he has survived. He returns to his people and joins them in their bows.
<I>Now what?
What next?
Another test?</i>
The children murmur amongst one another as they come to terms with the miracle they have witnessed before them. Their votes are cast and the sound is like trying to pick out a single voice in a senseless crowd, but it doesn’t take long before they begin to chant <I>sister, sister, sister</i>. They spring from the ground in a burst of sparkling silver sand and crowd her so quickly that the moles are skittering to make way for them without being tread upon. Each child giggles and runs their fingers across her slick glass and ink skin while the shimmering silver moles join in their celebrations. They don’t understand the reason for such rejoicing, but they too are overwhelmed with glee.
“Where shall we go next, then?” Virgo asks in between her own laughter. The question does not interrupt their celebrations but rather adds to their excitement. One sister, particularly smaller than most, hugs herself around one of Virgo’s raptor legs and listens patiently to the others’ ideas and suggestions of planets or galaxies. Her cherub face frowns at the idea of leaving their flock, however.
“<I>What about them?</i>”
Her voice is just breaths above a whisper but it brings a sudden and eerie hush over the hivemind. They turn to face the moles again, each of the laity fumbling nervously with their paws or hugging each other tightly in consolation. They had never thought their goddess would leave them once she finally arrived. They had never even thought to fear her departure. Virgo remembers their monuments and their carvings, their undying loyalty to her even before they knew her voice with their own ears. Shame flickers across the swarm’s hearts. They had not considered the effect their absence would have on the moles. Then, a word begins to echo across their thoughts as soft as cashmere: <I>stay.
Stay.
Stay. Stay. Stay.</i>
But Virgo slips between the children once her sister has released her and touches her nose to the nearest mole. Gently, she skims the memories from it and shares it across the hivemind. This one is a mother, with the father curled beside her. Their three children shuffle nervously just behind them. The swarm stares in awe as they learn the relation of each mole until they begin to learn their roles within the society. This one is a hunter while that one over there watches over the young. Some expand their burrows down beneath the sand to make room for new additions to their little pack. The mole that had been taken as a sacrifice had no mate or children of his own, but he tended to the older members of their society and brought them food each day. Each member is as important as the next.
The three-tailed Virgo steps back then and marvels at how complex their lives are, just as she had worried before. Her head aches as every minute detail floods her mind and she blinks in time with a hummingbird heart at the realization. She could not linger here forever, though, much as she wanted to. This was not her home just as she was not a true goddess. But how could she leave them without some gift for their unconditional love and adoration? She turns to the children as the question repeats through all their thoughts.
<I>Tree of knowledge. Let them feast. Let them grow.</i>
She nods and watches as the swarm children turn the sand into a sapling, which then grows into a full tree. Fat red fruit hangs from the white branches while pale pink leaves rustle in the light breeze. Where true gods had kept fire and knowledge and power from their people, they now choose to give it willingly. The moles are hesitant, though, until the children lightly nudge Virgo to speak to them.
“<font color=57474a>Do not fear, my darlings. This is my gift to you: a tree that requires no water or sun, just your love. In return, it will give you the answers to any question you ask of it,</font>” she explains before lightly kissing the forehead of the mother mole. The Queen, she has decided, after seeing the softness and the care in her heart for all the members of her pack. The moles quickly circle her once Virgo has retreated and congratulate her in soft coos and chirps.
Then, in the blink of an eye, they are floating amidst the dust that was once a planet, lightyears from the moles and their sweet songs. She reaches a clawed finger through the glimmering shards around them that had once been life some eons ago. The children float around her, sometimes slipping through one another in their weightless voyage, leaving eyes or mouths in the wrong body. They offer her images of using this dust to make her own planet, maybe her own Beqanna with a fresh new start. Together, they could show her how to sculpt the Forsaken Valley and fill it with every face she’s ever loved and lost. Her breath shudders at the thought of having it all return to her so easily.
Somewhere in between the memories of the Valley, the children slip Pantheon into their imaginary world, slumbering beneath an oak tree. She can almost feel the summer sun on her back as she imagines watching him nap. He is, or rather was, all legs and knobby knees; he is perfection in her tired eyes. But she knows that is not her real son. No, the real Pantheon is a man now, wandering somewhere and making a life for himself. A clone would only ever be a substitute for her true son. Time is not hers to rewind or cheat to regain what she has forfeited. A slow sigh leaves her lips as she turns to the swarm children.
“<font color=57474a>I have grown to love you all, your infant horns and the scars where your wings used to be. But my home needs me… I need it,</font>” she says as her voice cracks. They are her brothers and sisters in pain but she cannot force herself into a life that does not fit her, much as she would like to. The hive draws closer to her and they each hug tight to their newest sibling. She has lessened their pain, as they had hoped, so then why is saying goodbye such agony? Crimson tears well up in their glowing white eyes and stain their cheeks as they spill in violent sobs. Each little droplet lands on Virgo’s skin and carves a trail across her, wiping away her new shape in exchange for the old. With so many little eyes crying, it doesn’t take long before she’s a little gray mare with a barbed spine again.
She blinks away her own tears, and when she opens her eyes she finds herself standing at the edge of the lake once again. The three little fish that had called her belly home swim off and leave her with only her reflection now. Virgo listens hard for the sound of the swarm children sniffling or calling her name, almost desperately. No foreign thoughts invade her mind or show her their own ideas. The hivemind has severed itself from her own.
“<font color=57474a>Please, please stay here with me,</font>” she whispers desperately. “<font color=57474a>Please come back. I don’t want you all to leave too.</font>” But the words only stir a few light ripples across the water. Her heart sinks and she lays on the grass with her legs curled beneath her. She reminds herself to be mindful of her claws only to realize she has her hooves once again. Her chest feels so hollow now as she resigns herself to something like defeat. Her tears continue to soak her cheeks as she drifts into an exhausted sleep with fitful dreams.
An hour passes, then two. The sun is just peaking over the horizon when an ink black hand reaches from the lake to caress her cheek. She stirs without waking, though she does mumble some incoherent lament. The hand slips back beneath the surface.
Somewhere, a child is crying.</div>
<div style="font:30px cinzel decorative;margin-bottom:-10px;">Virgo</div>
he confesses how long he’s looked for a place to worship<BR>and, <I>oh,</i> you put him on his knees.</div>
1,686 words.
Her weakness, the children's tears of love, returned her to normal.
The children returned her exactly where and when they took her but left her memories.
Also HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY NEO!!!! <3 <3 <3