05-12-2015, 03:50 PM
and death shall have no
DOMINION
Without bothering to respond, the dark god sends her on her way. With a jolt, she is pulled out of the world she’d found only five years ago and set adrift in an endless sea of stars. Oh! Swirling, dancing, ever-burning stars, the ones that watched down on her through a lifetime of hunger and loss and tragedy, a lifetime spent surviving when everyone else died, a lifetime where the only constant were those distant stars.
She was lost at sea once again, swimming through nebulae, through clouds where new stars were being born as old lives on a distant planet were dying. And then she heard his voice, speaking in her head though she could not see him. Look for the warmth and hurry. I won’t hold you here long. She hadn’t noticed the cold, enchanted by the swirl of stardust, the shimmering sea of stars. But with his words, the cold seeped into her bones. She kicked out, her legs running as though there were ground beneath them—and somehow, despite the emptiness below and above and around her, she could feel the ground she imagined, could push off it to propel herself forward.
Find the warmth.
Dom hadn’t known many games as a child. But her Ben had taught their babies how to play hot or cold. Little Ragnar, so solemn, had treated it as a puzzle to solve. But her Aya had danced her way across the meadow to the tune of her father’s voice: “Warmer! Warmer! Ooooh, colder! Yes, warmer, warmer, hot! You’re on fire, you’re burning up, YOU FOUND IT!” Remembering the way tiny hooves had danced along the ground, Dom played hot or cold with the universe.
She ran, veering into the heat, skipping past stars that were the wrong kind of hot. She made the mistake of leaping as her Aya had leapt in her memory, and drifted, flailing, as she lost touch with her imaginary ground and gravity failed her, with no planetary surface to draw her back down. But she stilled, breathed in the empty air that still somehow filled her lungs, and, closing her eyes, felt once again for the ground she could remember even though she couldn’t see it.
There.
The instant she could feel it under her hooves again, she was off running, chasing the elusive warmth. The stars guided her, as they always had, pointing the way—straight into a swirling vortex of darkness. “You’re on fire! YOU FOUND IT!” Benny’s voice rang through her mind, and she dove into the wormhole.
She was lost at sea once again, swimming through nebulae, through clouds where new stars were being born as old lives on a distant planet were dying. And then she heard his voice, speaking in her head though she could not see him. Look for the warmth and hurry. I won’t hold you here long. She hadn’t noticed the cold, enchanted by the swirl of stardust, the shimmering sea of stars. But with his words, the cold seeped into her bones. She kicked out, her legs running as though there were ground beneath them—and somehow, despite the emptiness below and above and around her, she could feel the ground she imagined, could push off it to propel herself forward.
Find the warmth.
Dom hadn’t known many games as a child. But her Ben had taught their babies how to play hot or cold. Little Ragnar, so solemn, had treated it as a puzzle to solve. But her Aya had danced her way across the meadow to the tune of her father’s voice: “Warmer! Warmer! Ooooh, colder! Yes, warmer, warmer, hot! You’re on fire, you’re burning up, YOU FOUND IT!” Remembering the way tiny hooves had danced along the ground, Dom played hot or cold with the universe.
She ran, veering into the heat, skipping past stars that were the wrong kind of hot. She made the mistake of leaping as her Aya had leapt in her memory, and drifted, flailing, as she lost touch with her imaginary ground and gravity failed her, with no planetary surface to draw her back down. But she stilled, breathed in the empty air that still somehow filled her lungs, and, closing her eyes, felt once again for the ground she could remember even though she couldn’t see it.
There.
The instant she could feel it under her hooves again, she was off running, chasing the elusive warmth. The stars guided her, as they always had, pointing the way—straight into a swirling vortex of darkness. “You’re on fire! YOU FOUND IT!” Benny’s voice rang through her mind, and she dove into the wormhole.
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;