05-10-2024, 01:16 PM
For the moment, they are at a standstill. The wind rustles slightly through the leaves of the trees in the distance behind Sophist; the birdsong that previously trilled through the air has now gone silent, the birds having either taken wing at the sight of the serpent or huddling deeper within their shelter. The cloud-river below makes no noise, though its angry swirling, the current somewhat disrupted by the creature’s trailing body within, would have elicited quite a turbulent sound if it had been true water.
The beast’s growl seems to reverberate through Sophist’s chest, through his bones, and at first he is stilled by it, somewhat uncertain of how to interpret it. There had been no hissing alongside it, no baring of the terrible fangs that surely line the creature’s long, eel-like jaw, so he does not believe the sound had been one of aggression. Is this simply how its kind communicates?
Deciding to trust this notion, Sophist draws a slow, deep breath and returns the growl that the Cloud Serpent had emitted. It rolls gently, calmly, as he fixes his steady eyes on the guardian. It gazes back at him unblinkingly but the tendrils near the back of its skull which had previously been piqued now seem to settle into an amicable expression. It does not move yet, though, and remains poised in a cobra-like rear, swaying softly with the tender touches of the eventide breeze. Around them both, the flowers flutter too and their scent grows stronger, more potent and powerful.
It’s then that Sophist recognizes a shift in the emotion he can sense from the strange animal. Not only can he feel its desire for affection, for amity and fellowship and love, but he perceives its outright emotions. With each inhale of the overpowering fragrance, surprisingly strong from such small blossoms, he becomes more aware of an empathic link developing with the beast. He can feel its lingering confusion, its skepticism at his presence, its curiosity about him and its disbelief at what it is seeing.
Was that the purpose of the flowers all along, to offer these psychic bonds with unfortunate travelers who wound up mistakenly in this outlandish place?
Sophist laughs inwardly at himself – he should probably just accept these strange realities and use them as best he can. He is still so incredibly thirsty, after all, and this creature is the only barrier between himself and the lake beyond.
Taking another bolstering breath of the aromatic fumes, he focuses once again on the creature and squints his silvery eyes with determination. If the guardian is surprised to see another of its kind (and another quick glance downward at himself reaffirms the truth that Sophist does not look equine, still appears serpentine), he understands that he must convince it of the dream-come-true fantasy of this encounter. He must sell the belief, must prove that he is what the slender river dragon believes he is, lest he be swallowed up. After all, this creature is much more massive than the snakes which live in his forest home, and he’s seen those smaller counterparts consume quite sizeable prey with ready capability. It is not a fate he envies or desires in the least.
Taking a cautious step forward (and eliciting more flowers to bloom), he remains tapped into the Cloud Serpent’s emotions. Its tentative confusion still lingers, its hope still mounts, and its yearning grows steadily more expectant as the colt draws closer. He growls again, this time soft and nearly purring in a soothing reptilian way, and takes care to stagger his steps in the hopes of mimicking a slithering motion. The moonlight-colored creature remains poised and watching, observant with a tilted head and occasionally flickering tongue, but as he approaches, its wispy tendrils slowly release their hold upon the bridge and its coiled body shifts from its grasp around the base of the structure.
An odd sort of warble breaks from its now slightly-parted mouth when Sophist arrives to stand before it. They are eye-to-eye, the colt with a steady, if slightly hurried, heart staring confidently back with his illusioned pinkish eyes peering imploringly into the serpent’s. He mimics this noise, the curious chirping sound seeming almost coquettish and coy from his own lips as he tucks his chin toward his chest. After a moment’s further exchange of these soft greetings, the true creature unfurls itself from the bridge, sliding the rest of its body atop the structure to loop itself very loosely around his feet.
Sophist tucks his hooves close together – his glamoured form curls into a comfortable ball as if to accept this embrace from the pale guardian. It brushes its cheek against his, a more excitable song-like chatter filling its mouth now as it almost merrily moves – half-floating, half-slithering – toward the larger island, Sophist’s desired destination all along.
Overcome with relief at having passed this test, Sophist follows at a jaunty pace, leaving the bridge with its fragrant flowers and its glow behind them for the more secure footing of solid ground. Inside, he feels the spike of joy and elation from the serpent, the sheer jubilance at no longer being alone, the nearly audible rapid pounding of its giant heart that swells with love. Oddly enough, these emotions bleed into his own being and he finds himself smiling, nearly grinning, as he follows this unlikely comrade as it weaves its way toward the very lake he had sought.
Regardless of his own desires for the water, it is clear that the Cloud Serpent is intent to show him something, eager to share some secret thing that it has guarded alone for so long. It leads him right to the bank where it stops, but Sophist does not. The thirst drives him a few steps further until he splashes into the lake, circling to see what the creature had wanted to reveal but also dropping his mouth so that he may gulp heartily for just a second or two. To the true beast, its mate merely swirls and swims for a moment, dunking its head before, as Sophist draws near again, it peers with interest at whatever it might behold.
There in the taller grasses fringing the edge of the water is nestled a solitary egg. It is large, nearly twice the size of an ostrich’s egg, and is as pearly as the Cloud Serpent’s scales with the same moonstone sort of sheen. It does not rest entirely upon the ground, hovering ever so vaguely above it so as not to be sullied by the earth’s rough touch, but it is well-hidden all the same. The guardian offers that odd sort of chatter again, looking at the serpent-colt who is now awash with the waves of its pride and its joy. There is a sense of expectation within its gaze and within the empathic link they now share, both magical and base.
Sophist can only take a moment to wonder why the true serpent had felt so lonesome before when it could clearly expect company sometime soon, but then he recalls the way he has observed some animals share the burden of parenthood as if unable to raise young by themselves. Male avians would occasionally take the charge of warming the eggs, stags would protect their does – even stallions defended their young. That must be the case now, for when he reaches to touch the egg with his nose, its cool shell grows immediately warm beneath the soft skin of his lips. A slight pulsing glow of light now emanates from it and the Cloud Serpent purrs again with a low hiss of approval.
Understanding now that it had sought a mate so that this egg may grow, Sophist looks at his counterpart once more. Nodding, he moves as if to guard the egg, placing one leg over it to cover it slightly with his body (his illusioned form twists gently around it, holding it closely and carefully with its large, slender figure).
“I will protect it,” he assures the guardian in a strange jumble of quiet hisses and chirps, overcome by the sense of duty now imparted upon him. He bows his head to bump his nose with the guardian’s in a sign of partnership, closing his eyes with a soft exhale. The wind rises around them as the sun finally vanishes below the floating islands, its rays bursting upward around them in a near biblical display –
But when Sophist opens his eyes again, there is nothing but darkness.
It is familiar, its heavy shade of green-blue instantly eliciting comfort even as the warmth seems to fade rapidly from his face where the waning sun had just been.
He is back in the forest, back home, and he feels so abruptly empty.
All those emotions, that supreme connection to another the likes of which he has never felt before –
Had it just been a dream?
Yet, there nearby sits a large, glowing egg, its shell smooth and pearlescent in the murk of the woods.
The beast’s growl seems to reverberate through Sophist’s chest, through his bones, and at first he is stilled by it, somewhat uncertain of how to interpret it. There had been no hissing alongside it, no baring of the terrible fangs that surely line the creature’s long, eel-like jaw, so he does not believe the sound had been one of aggression. Is this simply how its kind communicates?
Deciding to trust this notion, Sophist draws a slow, deep breath and returns the growl that the Cloud Serpent had emitted. It rolls gently, calmly, as he fixes his steady eyes on the guardian. It gazes back at him unblinkingly but the tendrils near the back of its skull which had previously been piqued now seem to settle into an amicable expression. It does not move yet, though, and remains poised in a cobra-like rear, swaying softly with the tender touches of the eventide breeze. Around them both, the flowers flutter too and their scent grows stronger, more potent and powerful.
It’s then that Sophist recognizes a shift in the emotion he can sense from the strange animal. Not only can he feel its desire for affection, for amity and fellowship and love, but he perceives its outright emotions. With each inhale of the overpowering fragrance, surprisingly strong from such small blossoms, he becomes more aware of an empathic link developing with the beast. He can feel its lingering confusion, its skepticism at his presence, its curiosity about him and its disbelief at what it is seeing.
Was that the purpose of the flowers all along, to offer these psychic bonds with unfortunate travelers who wound up mistakenly in this outlandish place?
Sophist laughs inwardly at himself – he should probably just accept these strange realities and use them as best he can. He is still so incredibly thirsty, after all, and this creature is the only barrier between himself and the lake beyond.
Taking another bolstering breath of the aromatic fumes, he focuses once again on the creature and squints his silvery eyes with determination. If the guardian is surprised to see another of its kind (and another quick glance downward at himself reaffirms the truth that Sophist does not look equine, still appears serpentine), he understands that he must convince it of the dream-come-true fantasy of this encounter. He must sell the belief, must prove that he is what the slender river dragon believes he is, lest he be swallowed up. After all, this creature is much more massive than the snakes which live in his forest home, and he’s seen those smaller counterparts consume quite sizeable prey with ready capability. It is not a fate he envies or desires in the least.
Taking a cautious step forward (and eliciting more flowers to bloom), he remains tapped into the Cloud Serpent’s emotions. Its tentative confusion still lingers, its hope still mounts, and its yearning grows steadily more expectant as the colt draws closer. He growls again, this time soft and nearly purring in a soothing reptilian way, and takes care to stagger his steps in the hopes of mimicking a slithering motion. The moonlight-colored creature remains poised and watching, observant with a tilted head and occasionally flickering tongue, but as he approaches, its wispy tendrils slowly release their hold upon the bridge and its coiled body shifts from its grasp around the base of the structure.
An odd sort of warble breaks from its now slightly-parted mouth when Sophist arrives to stand before it. They are eye-to-eye, the colt with a steady, if slightly hurried, heart staring confidently back with his illusioned pinkish eyes peering imploringly into the serpent’s. He mimics this noise, the curious chirping sound seeming almost coquettish and coy from his own lips as he tucks his chin toward his chest. After a moment’s further exchange of these soft greetings, the true creature unfurls itself from the bridge, sliding the rest of its body atop the structure to loop itself very loosely around his feet.
Sophist tucks his hooves close together – his glamoured form curls into a comfortable ball as if to accept this embrace from the pale guardian. It brushes its cheek against his, a more excitable song-like chatter filling its mouth now as it almost merrily moves – half-floating, half-slithering – toward the larger island, Sophist’s desired destination all along.
Overcome with relief at having passed this test, Sophist follows at a jaunty pace, leaving the bridge with its fragrant flowers and its glow behind them for the more secure footing of solid ground. Inside, he feels the spike of joy and elation from the serpent, the sheer jubilance at no longer being alone, the nearly audible rapid pounding of its giant heart that swells with love. Oddly enough, these emotions bleed into his own being and he finds himself smiling, nearly grinning, as he follows this unlikely comrade as it weaves its way toward the very lake he had sought.
Regardless of his own desires for the water, it is clear that the Cloud Serpent is intent to show him something, eager to share some secret thing that it has guarded alone for so long. It leads him right to the bank where it stops, but Sophist does not. The thirst drives him a few steps further until he splashes into the lake, circling to see what the creature had wanted to reveal but also dropping his mouth so that he may gulp heartily for just a second or two. To the true beast, its mate merely swirls and swims for a moment, dunking its head before, as Sophist draws near again, it peers with interest at whatever it might behold.
There in the taller grasses fringing the edge of the water is nestled a solitary egg. It is large, nearly twice the size of an ostrich’s egg, and is as pearly as the Cloud Serpent’s scales with the same moonstone sort of sheen. It does not rest entirely upon the ground, hovering ever so vaguely above it so as not to be sullied by the earth’s rough touch, but it is well-hidden all the same. The guardian offers that odd sort of chatter again, looking at the serpent-colt who is now awash with the waves of its pride and its joy. There is a sense of expectation within its gaze and within the empathic link they now share, both magical and base.
Sophist can only take a moment to wonder why the true serpent had felt so lonesome before when it could clearly expect company sometime soon, but then he recalls the way he has observed some animals share the burden of parenthood as if unable to raise young by themselves. Male avians would occasionally take the charge of warming the eggs, stags would protect their does – even stallions defended their young. That must be the case now, for when he reaches to touch the egg with his nose, its cool shell grows immediately warm beneath the soft skin of his lips. A slight pulsing glow of light now emanates from it and the Cloud Serpent purrs again with a low hiss of approval.
Understanding now that it had sought a mate so that this egg may grow, Sophist looks at his counterpart once more. Nodding, he moves as if to guard the egg, placing one leg over it to cover it slightly with his body (his illusioned form twists gently around it, holding it closely and carefully with its large, slender figure).
“I will protect it,” he assures the guardian in a strange jumble of quiet hisses and chirps, overcome by the sense of duty now imparted upon him. He bows his head to bump his nose with the guardian’s in a sign of partnership, closing his eyes with a soft exhale. The wind rises around them as the sun finally vanishes below the floating islands, its rays bursting upward around them in a near biblical display –
But when Sophist opens his eyes again, there is nothing but darkness.
It is familiar, its heavy shade of green-blue instantly eliciting comfort even as the warmth seems to fade rapidly from his face where the waning sun had just been.
He is back in the forest, back home, and he feels so abruptly empty.
All those emotions, that supreme connection to another the likes of which he has never felt before –
Had it just been a dream?
Yet, there nearby sits a large, glowing egg, its shell smooth and pearlescent in the murk of the woods.
Sophist
if you take my nights will you leave me my days?