11-29-2021, 07:36 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-29-2021, 07:38 PM by brunhilde.
Edit Reason: i forgot to put traits to scramble lmao
)
BRUNHILDE
I BET ON LOSING DOGS
You’re still falling, aren’t you? The vicious whisper of your father’s voice caresses your ears; but you do not open your eyes. You do not rage against your fate. You paint a pretty picture: back to the consuming darkness, legs bent gracefully in the air, face serene as your lovely mane trails around you like so many comets.
A lone butterfly clings to the gentle dip at the center of your chest. You can feel it there, tiny legs tickling your flesh even as the wind around you begs to be your body’s only sensation. You know that in time it, too, will flutter away from you. And you will be alone in this darkness, no lingering remnant of what you present to the world save for the sunset fire of your skin.
This is true madness, is it not? Accepting this neverending descent as your hell, the inevitable tumble your life was meant to end in.
It ends.
The darkness, the inertia, the perpetual floating of your gut—all of it is replaced by green grass beneath your hooves, a gentle wind upon your face, and the sweet smell of summer time plums.
You open your ears and find yourself watching the swaying trees of your childhood home. Awash in the bright, cool glow of a Hyalinian summer, the grove you once slept and played in looks like pure heaven. You look around expectantly, the magic of this utopia almost immediately wiping away the memories of what you just endured. Where there was once terror and suffering, new memories surface.
The laughing, lovely face of your mother stares at you as you mumble to yourself about how grumpy your father was this morning. He had a late night patrolling and was too tired to go hunting for ripe plums like the pair of you do most mornings. You’re a young woman but you still love those peaceful dawns with your content patriarch.
“He’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Kensa answers with a laugh, nudging your shoulder lovingly. You shrug and smile back, begrudgingly acknowledging how right she is. You turn your face into her neck and close your eyes. She smells like pine needles, cypress, and home. The pair of you stroll off through the tall trees, gossiping amongst yourselves.
When the memory fades, your eyes blink at the open space of the creek bound meadow. Before you stands the pale visage of your father, silvery muzzle glittering in a large smile.
“You’re late, Hildy,” Litotes calls, trotting to your side. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek, somehow knowing exactly what you’re late for. “Happy birthday, darling,” he murmurs.
Around you, the shadows of Hyaline cast outward as a summer sunset splashes hues of orange and red and purple on your home. Fireflies twinkle in and out of the bushes and trees and flowers. You’re grinning like a little girl, legs kicking up in an expectant, wild prance. Your father leads you patiently, occasionally glancing back to murmur something exciting about the gathering they’re throwing you.
You both find your family waiting in the hollow where you all rest. Kensa, Kelynen, and two smaller, boyish faces grinning widely. Before them is a lovely stockpile of berries and plums.
“Happy birthday, Brun!” yells one of the twin boys. You smile back, heart settling into the rhythm of the celebration. You light a small pile of logs gathering into a circle of stones. Warmth and light crackles around you.
A swift movement catches your eye. You turn your head suddenly, just in time to have your cheek smacked by a pair of eager lips.
“Sorry I’m late,” a gruff, wild voice murmurs into your ear. The woman nips at your neck before stepping toward the two boys, both now squealing. “Look what I brought you two from Tephra!” she answers their squeals as she pulls two lovely peacock feathers from her mane. The twins ooh and ahh as she turns back to you, stormy eyes twinkling playfully.
Vastra.
You remember the first time you met so vividly.
(This world is so different from the one you’ve forgotten. There is no heartache or confusion, no harsh greetings. You fell in love with ease.)
“What are you doing?” calls a poised, haughty cat.
You jerk your head up, quickly slamming your fiery wings to your side in embarrassment.
“Trying,” you answer with a defiant lift of your chin.
Vastra tilts her head, cheeky smirk curling her lips. She changes then, feline form morphing into a dusty pegasus. She approaches confidently, eyes never straying from your face.
“Want me to teach you?” she asks.
Your heart races. You smile, cheeks warming with a flush; but that proud chin doesn’t waver as you answer.
“Please.”
The dusk fades into night as you curl into your lover’s side. You’re content.
This is how your days pass. From lovers to mothers, you have children. Your brothers grow up, raise lovely families of their own. Your father and mother gray. When they pass, you bury them on the dark shores of the Cove.
You have never known madness.
On yet another birthday (you’ve lost count), your bones creak. Vastra left you a few years ago, the dusky color of her skin fading to a pale gray before she went peacefully in her sleep. You think of her as your younger siblings and countless offspring recreate your favorite birthday. You smile and laugh, but you can feel your power fading.
They can feel it, too. The sadness is deep in their eyes.
They know when you curl up next to the bonfire, it will be the last time you do.
And so after a night of stories and laughter, you do just that. Your bones ache as you rest your head close to the warmth. Your children curl around you and you breath so deeply that when the end comes, it just feels like taking another breath.
You’re gasping for air when you look up, when your eyes find the midnight earth beneath you and the joke in the Dark God’s face.
“No,” you whisper.
A lone butterfly clings to the gentle dip at the center of your chest. You can feel it there, tiny legs tickling your flesh even as the wind around you begs to be your body’s only sensation. You know that in time it, too, will flutter away from you. And you will be alone in this darkness, no lingering remnant of what you present to the world save for the sunset fire of your skin.
This is true madness, is it not? Accepting this neverending descent as your hell, the inevitable tumble your life was meant to end in.
It ends.
The darkness, the inertia, the perpetual floating of your gut—all of it is replaced by green grass beneath your hooves, a gentle wind upon your face, and the sweet smell of summer time plums.
You open your ears and find yourself watching the swaying trees of your childhood home. Awash in the bright, cool glow of a Hyalinian summer, the grove you once slept and played in looks like pure heaven. You look around expectantly, the magic of this utopia almost immediately wiping away the memories of what you just endured. Where there was once terror and suffering, new memories surface.
— — — — —
The laughing, lovely face of your mother stares at you as you mumble to yourself about how grumpy your father was this morning. He had a late night patrolling and was too tired to go hunting for ripe plums like the pair of you do most mornings. You’re a young woman but you still love those peaceful dawns with your content patriarch.
“He’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Kensa answers with a laugh, nudging your shoulder lovingly. You shrug and smile back, begrudgingly acknowledging how right she is. You turn your face into her neck and close your eyes. She smells like pine needles, cypress, and home. The pair of you stroll off through the tall trees, gossiping amongst yourselves.
— — — — —
When the memory fades, your eyes blink at the open space of the creek bound meadow. Before you stands the pale visage of your father, silvery muzzle glittering in a large smile.
“You’re late, Hildy,” Litotes calls, trotting to your side. You smile and press a kiss to his cheek, somehow knowing exactly what you’re late for. “Happy birthday, darling,” he murmurs.
Around you, the shadows of Hyaline cast outward as a summer sunset splashes hues of orange and red and purple on your home. Fireflies twinkle in and out of the bushes and trees and flowers. You’re grinning like a little girl, legs kicking up in an expectant, wild prance. Your father leads you patiently, occasionally glancing back to murmur something exciting about the gathering they’re throwing you.
You both find your family waiting in the hollow where you all rest. Kensa, Kelynen, and two smaller, boyish faces grinning widely. Before them is a lovely stockpile of berries and plums.
“Happy birthday, Brun!” yells one of the twin boys. You smile back, heart settling into the rhythm of the celebration. You light a small pile of logs gathering into a circle of stones. Warmth and light crackles around you.
A swift movement catches your eye. You turn your head suddenly, just in time to have your cheek smacked by a pair of eager lips.
“Sorry I’m late,” a gruff, wild voice murmurs into your ear. The woman nips at your neck before stepping toward the two boys, both now squealing. “Look what I brought you two from Tephra!” she answers their squeals as she pulls two lovely peacock feathers from her mane. The twins ooh and ahh as she turns back to you, stormy eyes twinkling playfully.
Vastra.
— — — — —
You remember the first time you met so vividly.
(This world is so different from the one you’ve forgotten. There is no heartache or confusion, no harsh greetings. You fell in love with ease.)
“What are you doing?” calls a poised, haughty cat.
You jerk your head up, quickly slamming your fiery wings to your side in embarrassment.
“Trying,” you answer with a defiant lift of your chin.
Vastra tilts her head, cheeky smirk curling her lips. She changes then, feline form morphing into a dusty pegasus. She approaches confidently, eyes never straying from your face.
“Want me to teach you?” she asks.
Your heart races. You smile, cheeks warming with a flush; but that proud chin doesn’t waver as you answer.
“Please.”
— — — — —
The dusk fades into night as you curl into your lover’s side. You’re content.
This is how your days pass. From lovers to mothers, you have children. Your brothers grow up, raise lovely families of their own. Your father and mother gray. When they pass, you bury them on the dark shores of the Cove.
You have never known madness.
— — — — —
On yet another birthday (you’ve lost count), your bones creak. Vastra left you a few years ago, the dusky color of her skin fading to a pale gray before she went peacefully in her sleep. You think of her as your younger siblings and countless offspring recreate your favorite birthday. You smile and laugh, but you can feel your power fading.
They can feel it, too. The sadness is deep in their eyes.
They know when you curl up next to the bonfire, it will be the last time you do.
And so after a night of stories and laughter, you do just that. Your bones ache as you rest your head close to the warmth. Your children curl around you and you breath so deeply that when the end comes, it just feels like taking another breath.
— — — — —
You’re gasping for air when you look up, when your eyes find the midnight earth beneath you and the joke in the Dark God’s face.
“No,” you whisper.
traits to scramble:
fire mimicry (expressed)
lion shifting (unexpressed)
0-space trait: fire halo
