09-27-2015, 09:32 PM
and death shall have no
DOMINION
Stars sparkled in the clear, moonless sky, spilling out across the endless darkness in patterns that seemed utter chaos to one still so used to the constellations of another world. She could trace them on her coat, twinkling against the black-spotted white in gloriously familiar shapes. But they were gone forever from the sky now, replaced at world’s end by these stars that were strangers to her. The ancestors of someone else’s past, or soulless lights in someone else’s sky. Maybe someday it would feel like hers.
Dominion had always been enamored of the night sky, a bit nocturnal by nature even in her old life, in her old world. There, her people had clustered together under their ancestral stars, awake during the cool of the early evening and early morning, telling stories of tribes long-since turned to dust. What had once been four proud peoples with four intimately entwined stories had, under pressure of invasion, collapsed into dispersed mongrel bands, picked off one by one until the day the last of them had been cornered on the cliffs of the bitter, raging sea. Even though the rest of them were long gone, she still remembered their stories.
She’d told them to her children, finding hints of her father’s silver tongue in the telling as she stared up at the stars that had followed her across worlds. Her boy, so hungry for knowledge, had gloried in every word that fell from her lips. Her girl, green eyes so vibrant and alive, had squirmed with restless energy, absorbing the stories through the motion of her tiny body than the sound of Dom’s voice. It seemed…fitting, somehow, that she had told no such tales since their lives had been stolen away by the hungry earth. Still, she couldn’t help but remember as she stared at the sky.
Her heart didn’t ache the same as when the loss was new. She had said her goodbyes, thanks to Beqanna’s dark god and a trip to the end of the world. Their loss was no longer a jagged, gaping hole inside her chest, no longer an inexplicable hollow, barren feeling in her belly. It was quiet now, soft and gentle like the brush of lips against little foreheads. Still, she was glad those stars had seen fit to give her more years, to spin out her potential lifespan into infinity. The idea of trying again, even if she had a mate…it was too soon.
She had strayed from the lake that was her favorite place, her base camp, her home. Tonight was not a night for the weeping beauty of the willow trees, their branches arching gracefully toward the frozen surface of the lake her dearest friend had declared to be her home. Tonight was a night for the solid strength of oak trees that lined the edge of the infamous Meadow. For company? Perhaps. She did miss the day to day interaction of family. But her expectations for finding it again any time soon were low. So, for that matter, was her drive to look. For now? For now, she’d settle for a change in scenery, leaving behind the delicate yearning of the willows and surrounding herself with something new. The company only mattered if it was good. Otherwise she was happier left to her own devices.
Dominion had always been enamored of the night sky, a bit nocturnal by nature even in her old life, in her old world. There, her people had clustered together under their ancestral stars, awake during the cool of the early evening and early morning, telling stories of tribes long-since turned to dust. What had once been four proud peoples with four intimately entwined stories had, under pressure of invasion, collapsed into dispersed mongrel bands, picked off one by one until the day the last of them had been cornered on the cliffs of the bitter, raging sea. Even though the rest of them were long gone, she still remembered their stories.
She’d told them to her children, finding hints of her father’s silver tongue in the telling as she stared up at the stars that had followed her across worlds. Her boy, so hungry for knowledge, had gloried in every word that fell from her lips. Her girl, green eyes so vibrant and alive, had squirmed with restless energy, absorbing the stories through the motion of her tiny body than the sound of Dom’s voice. It seemed…fitting, somehow, that she had told no such tales since their lives had been stolen away by the hungry earth. Still, she couldn’t help but remember as she stared at the sky.
Her heart didn’t ache the same as when the loss was new. She had said her goodbyes, thanks to Beqanna’s dark god and a trip to the end of the world. Their loss was no longer a jagged, gaping hole inside her chest, no longer an inexplicable hollow, barren feeling in her belly. It was quiet now, soft and gentle like the brush of lips against little foreheads. Still, she was glad those stars had seen fit to give her more years, to spin out her potential lifespan into infinity. The idea of trying again, even if she had a mate…it was too soon.
She had strayed from the lake that was her favorite place, her base camp, her home. Tonight was not a night for the weeping beauty of the willow trees, their branches arching gracefully toward the frozen surface of the lake her dearest friend had declared to be her home. Tonight was a night for the solid strength of oak trees that lined the edge of the infamous Meadow. For company? Perhaps. She did miss the day to day interaction of family. But her expectations for finding it again any time soon were low. So, for that matter, was her drive to look. For now? For now, she’d settle for a change in scenery, leaving behind the delicate yearning of the willows and surrounding herself with something new. The company only mattered if it was good. Otherwise she was happier left to her own devices.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;