[private] where the moon had turned; benjamen - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: Explore (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1) +--- Forum: The Common Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=72) +---- Forum: Forest (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=73) +---- Thread: [private] where the moon had turned; benjamen (/showthread.php?tid=29453) |
where the moon had turned; benjamen - cressida - 05-21-2021 when I was a bird I could see where the moon had turned the sky was alive and this wire of mine burned @[Benjamen] RE: where the moon had turned; benjamen - Benjamen - 05-22-2021 Water is incredibly heavy, did you know that? It isn’t like the starlight James was so accustomed too, light, beautiful, easy. If starlight kisses than water can only strangle. He knows that, knows that better than most. James is not creature of the night, how can he be when his mother was sunlight brought earth side? Neither though is he a boy of the day, how can he be when his father was not born, but shed from the stars above? He wakes up from a slumber. Those who have never been dead, they do not know the deafening sound of a moonless light and the dark, dark, dark that accompanies it. He wanders because the sound of his own heartbeat and his feet on the ground are enough to satisfy him, to comfort him. He can remember walking the woods with his sister, he can remember how upset his mother had been, can remember his father calming her. He cannot remember what he found in the woods though. James can only remember poppies. Red poppies. She reminds him of Septimus, he and Elli’s tutor, and that alone is enough to comfort the boy and flutter curiosity in his chest like a moth cupped between two hands. A flood of advice reaches the back of his mind (a place that still splutters out ocean water and smells like salt and death) “the woods, the trees, they are not friends, James, death lurks there.” “There are no such things as strangers, Ben.” “The night hides secrets, but not all are terrifying.” Her light cascades over him and he thinks he has never felt happier, has never felt brighter, before her movements leave him in the dark. “No, no! It’s too dark.” He says in a flush of panic. And he suddenly cannot see, it’s too dark and he is stumbling, falling, and the long grass feels all too much like ocean waves and they drag him under once more. never gave a single thought to where it might lead image by Gary Bendig @[cressida] RE: where the moon had turned; benjamen - cressida - 05-24-2021 when I was a bird I could see where the moon had turned the sky was alive and this wire of mine burned @[Benjamen] RE: where the moon had turned; benjamen - Benjamen - 05-28-2021 Benjamen is naive, seeing all the fascination in the world around him but none of the threat. (The only times he remembers the danger only when he wakes in the middle of the night and cannot breathe from the weight of the water once crushing him.) He either does not see it or he has not yet learned recognize it. If asked, Ben would tell you that he knows a good soul when he sees one— but this same little boy, closes his eyes when evil walks his way. So when the girl, the stranger, stops and turns around he closes his eyes for an instant before dark lids slide back open to watch her. He could not think her anything but beautiful, mystical, enchanting, kind, and radiant. He has heard his mother use these words before, to describe Elliana, Maeve, Bird, Nicnevin, and so they are easy to call into his own, young, vocabulary. “Will you bring the light back?” He asks, with a half formed tear in his eye that disappears as quickly as it had formed. Ben is too young to know who he asks (it is usually his mother, his father, his older sister, but neither are here.) So he asks the girl, the world, the night. And then the moon, that sacred, sacred moon, is brought before him. Too young to be weary of magic, he can only flush with gratefulness. If he had just been a touch older, he might have told her how beautiful she was. “You look like the moon,” he says to her instead, an innocent observation. Ben has little life experience to compare others too. His mother would always be the sun, his father the stars, his sister the shadows. “Is that why you’re best friends?” “I’m Benjamen,” he says before breaking her gaze, his blue eyes looking around the small area, suddenly bold and brave underneath the steady, thrumming glow. “Do you get to play with the moon every night?” never gave a single thought to where it might lead image by Gary Bendig @[cressida] RE: where the moon had turned; benjamen - cressida - 06-04-2021 Cressida @[Benjamen] |