10-23-2019, 10:55 PM
<center><img src="https://i.postimg.cc/WzwTjqg2/thiamaniphtml2.png"><table bgcolor=571537 style="border-color: black; border-width: 0px; border-style: solid; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: -95px" cellspacing=30 cellpadding=30 width=650><tr><td><p align=justify><font face=times new roman color=873142><font style=font-size:9pt;line-height:12pt;letter-spacing:1px><font style=letter-spacing:3px><center><Font color=c77e63><i>did the full moon force my hand?</i></font></font> </center><p align=justify>
When she heard the call, she knew she <i>had</i> to answer. The thoughts were immediate and the feelings that accompanied them were overwhelming.
Thia has struggled to adjust to this place. Beqanna was still a foreign land to her. She did not know of how the magic worked here. But she did know of magic. Magic made up the very heart of the stories her mother used to tell her - stores that took her far away from the sad reality of her childhood. That had been her escape then, before everything she knew was torn away and she was liberated from her prison.
Even after shaking off her shackles and finding the freedom she’d always craved, she felt lost. She had no idea what she was meant to do with this newfound freedom. She’d fought her entire life to be free - to do what she wished, when she wished. But now that she had the freedom, she had no idea what it was that she actually wanted. Especially since the one who had kept her spirit alive all this time had been stolen from her.
Even when she was bound in chains, she had <i>always</i> had something to live for. Her mother. Her mother had been the most famous of Oracles. Equines came from far and wide for her counsel. But to Thia - she had always only ever been <i>mother</i>. And her mother had always had the answers to even her most difficult questions. She was her comfort and her confidant. Her everything.
And she had been torn away.
The memory was seared into her mind. The pain of loss had inflicted a terrible wound upon the girl, one that left an ugly, invisible scar in the most vulnerable folds of memory. She can still remember the sound of hooves scraping against stone. She can remember the waves crashing against the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. She can remember the exact shade of crimson in the water...
Thia clung to every memory - the good and the bad. She lavished in the simple reminders of her mother. The scent of fresh salt air. The colors of a vibrant sunrise. The sounds of muted laughter. There were days when she felt her mother was everywhere. But there were dark days too. And lately Thia had struggled to pull herself from the darkness.
She all but stumbles upon her token. A small fragment of volcanic rock. The memories flood her mind - unbidden and unrelenting. Her homeland had been volcanic - the entire island built upon a volcano thought to be long dormant. The volcanic rock was treacherous. Some was porous, while others could be just as sharp as a shard of glass.
And it was upon these volcanic rocks that her mother’s body had broken. She had been murdered - killed by her own father in a fit of jealousy. Thia’s mother had had no wings to save her as she fell from the cliffs...
She carried the shiny black stone carefully - as if she had discovered some great treasure. While the hardened magma had taken her mother from her, the very same mountain had set her free. For soon after her mother’s death, the mountain had come alive - spewing ash and rock and fire to all who lived below.
It was in this chaos that Thia found freedom. So the stone meant more than just death. It also represented liberation. That was all her mother had ever wanted for her - freedom. She longed to tell her mother that she’d done it. That she’d found freedom at long last. And she longed to seek her counsel - ask what it was she was meant to do here and how she was meant to live on her own in a world so strange.
She says nothing as she joins those gathered, clutching her stone like a talisman. She hardly registers the presence of others - for all are strangers to her. Instead, her dark eyes find the spectral woman - wondering if she holds the answers she so desperately seeks.
<center><font style=letter-spacing:3px><Font color=c77e63><i> thia.</i></font></font></table>
<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/littlewillow-art/">manip by littlewillow-art</a></center></center>
When she heard the call, she knew she <i>had</i> to answer. The thoughts were immediate and the feelings that accompanied them were overwhelming.
Thia has struggled to adjust to this place. Beqanna was still a foreign land to her. She did not know of how the magic worked here. But she did know of magic. Magic made up the very heart of the stories her mother used to tell her - stores that took her far away from the sad reality of her childhood. That had been her escape then, before everything she knew was torn away and she was liberated from her prison.
Even after shaking off her shackles and finding the freedom she’d always craved, she felt lost. She had no idea what she was meant to do with this newfound freedom. She’d fought her entire life to be free - to do what she wished, when she wished. But now that she had the freedom, she had no idea what it was that she actually wanted. Especially since the one who had kept her spirit alive all this time had been stolen from her.
Even when she was bound in chains, she had <i>always</i> had something to live for. Her mother. Her mother had been the most famous of Oracles. Equines came from far and wide for her counsel. But to Thia - she had always only ever been <i>mother</i>. And her mother had always had the answers to even her most difficult questions. She was her comfort and her confidant. Her everything.
And she had been torn away.
The memory was seared into her mind. The pain of loss had inflicted a terrible wound upon the girl, one that left an ugly, invisible scar in the most vulnerable folds of memory. She can still remember the sound of hooves scraping against stone. She can remember the waves crashing against the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff. She can remember the exact shade of crimson in the water...
Thia clung to every memory - the good and the bad. She lavished in the simple reminders of her mother. The scent of fresh salt air. The colors of a vibrant sunrise. The sounds of muted laughter. There were days when she felt her mother was everywhere. But there were dark days too. And lately Thia had struggled to pull herself from the darkness.
She all but stumbles upon her token. A small fragment of volcanic rock. The memories flood her mind - unbidden and unrelenting. Her homeland had been volcanic - the entire island built upon a volcano thought to be long dormant. The volcanic rock was treacherous. Some was porous, while others could be just as sharp as a shard of glass.
And it was upon these volcanic rocks that her mother’s body had broken. She had been murdered - killed by her own father in a fit of jealousy. Thia’s mother had had no wings to save her as she fell from the cliffs...
She carried the shiny black stone carefully - as if she had discovered some great treasure. While the hardened magma had taken her mother from her, the very same mountain had set her free. For soon after her mother’s death, the mountain had come alive - spewing ash and rock and fire to all who lived below.
It was in this chaos that Thia found freedom. So the stone meant more than just death. It also represented liberation. That was all her mother had ever wanted for her - freedom. She longed to tell her mother that she’d done it. That she’d found freedom at long last. And she longed to seek her counsel - ask what it was she was meant to do here and how she was meant to live on her own in a world so strange.
She says nothing as she joins those gathered, clutching her stone like a talisman. She hardly registers the presence of others - for all are strangers to her. Instead, her dark eyes find the spectral woman - wondering if she holds the answers she so desperately seeks.
<center><font style=letter-spacing:3px><Font color=c77e63><i> thia.</i></font></font></table>
<a href="https://www.deviantart.com/littlewillow-art/">manip by littlewillow-art</a></center></center>