08-16-2019, 11:45 PM
Murmuring Rivers sounds pleasant enough, green and musical, like Lilli herself, chuckling at her joke. It is easy to imagine creatures such as her living along the lush riverbanks, glossy-coated and practicing their magics. Had the chestnut mare ever had magic? It seems as though many that cross into this land lose their powers when they step onto its shores. Not all, but many. The fairies that guard this place are jealous, or spiteful, or perhaps distrustful more than anything else, which is reasonable, in Neverwhere’s estimation.
She is also distrustful of those who wield power.
She crosses the path with her exaggerated, careful steps, and thinks on how, even without great magic or power, she has changed since leaving her homeland, how, even if she were homesick, she couldn’t return to that life. What would she be returning to, now that she knows how much is out there?
“We were simple horses living a simple life,” she muses, shaking her mane free of the deft clutches of a reaching elm, “a nomadic tribe, following water and food. There were no healers or prophets, no airbenders or diviners, we followed our instincts on the paths we always walked, for generations. It’s not a very political life, but it has its own challenges.”
And why had she left? She’d been bored, that was part of it, true, but she had been seeking something more. Some nameless extra. Something beyond the same worn paths, and the same worn faces, a herd and a foal come Spring. Perhaps especially that, it had clutched her heart in icy fingers and she knew that that was not the life for her. She had wanted to see things.
And look where it had gotten her. Far away, nearly blind, and stubbournly alone until recently.
“My family was large enough, but loosely connected. My brothers left to find their fortunes, and my sisters eventually broke off into other family groups. I guess I liked the sound of finding my fortune better.”
It was difficult to discuss, not because it was emotional, but because it wasn’t, terribly. They were family, but when they parted, it was with the understanding that sons and brothers would become rivals, would face teeth and hard hooves, and never be welcome where-ever they went. Daughters and sisters would at best have fleeting moments at the ponds, a breath, a soft touch of the nose, and they would be separated again. Neverwhere knows without saying that Lilliana would find this unutterably sad, and she bites her tongue, not wanting the red mare’s sympathy. Perhaps it is sad, but she does not feel that way. Everyone was free to choose their path, to stay, as most did, or to go, as she had done.
But, and this might be the most damning thing, she can hardly recall their names anymore. Every step fades her memory a little of what came before. The chestnut mare can't forget, and Neverwhere can barely remember.
The dappled mare falls still as Lilli’s head comes up, scenting the water that lays heavy on the air, the tang of stone and algae, joy palpable on the air, fluttering like bird’s breath before the song begins. Turning to returning Lilliana’s look, Neverwhere nods, she hears it, smells it, the river.
She is also distrustful of those who wield power.
She crosses the path with her exaggerated, careful steps, and thinks on how, even without great magic or power, she has changed since leaving her homeland, how, even if she were homesick, she couldn’t return to that life. What would she be returning to, now that she knows how much is out there?
“We were simple horses living a simple life,” she muses, shaking her mane free of the deft clutches of a reaching elm, “a nomadic tribe, following water and food. There were no healers or prophets, no airbenders or diviners, we followed our instincts on the paths we always walked, for generations. It’s not a very political life, but it has its own challenges.”
And why had she left? She’d been bored, that was part of it, true, but she had been seeking something more. Some nameless extra. Something beyond the same worn paths, and the same worn faces, a herd and a foal come Spring. Perhaps especially that, it had clutched her heart in icy fingers and she knew that that was not the life for her. She had wanted to see things.
And look where it had gotten her. Far away, nearly blind, and stubbournly alone until recently.
“My family was large enough, but loosely connected. My brothers left to find their fortunes, and my sisters eventually broke off into other family groups. I guess I liked the sound of finding my fortune better.”
It was difficult to discuss, not because it was emotional, but because it wasn’t, terribly. They were family, but when they parted, it was with the understanding that sons and brothers would become rivals, would face teeth and hard hooves, and never be welcome where-ever they went. Daughters and sisters would at best have fleeting moments at the ponds, a breath, a soft touch of the nose, and they would be separated again. Neverwhere knows without saying that Lilliana would find this unutterably sad, and she bites her tongue, not wanting the red mare’s sympathy. Perhaps it is sad, but she does not feel that way. Everyone was free to choose their path, to stay, as most did, or to go, as she had done.
But, and this might be the most damning thing, she can hardly recall their names anymore. Every step fades her memory a little of what came before. The chestnut mare can't forget, and Neverwhere can barely remember.
The dappled mare falls still as Lilli’s head comes up, scenting the water that lays heavy on the air, the tang of stone and algae, joy palpable on the air, fluttering like bird’s breath before the song begins. Turning to returning Lilliana’s look, Neverwhere nods, she hears it, smells it, the river.
Neverwhere
.........
