I am a fire and I must burn today; elysteria, weir, any

[Ramiel]

ghost king of the dale >>

Sunlight filters down between the boughs of an old beech tree, spilling across the slope of his back in jagged patterns.  He welcomes the warmth, though it is merely a taste of what is to come.  The spring season is still early, after all, and only a few hours ago he’d been chilled by morning’s sharp breath.  All too soon, the bowl-shaped Dale will be full to the brim with heat and humidity.  Instead of seeking out the sun, the residents will seek cover from it during the peak hours of the day.  And as much as he enjoys the changing of the seasons, the stallion prefers this time the most – the inbetween time.  He relishes the cool kiss of morning on his skin and the blue-skies and tepid breezes of the afternoon.

As Ramiel rests easily under the towering plant, he watches the others in various stages of their early rituals.  One horse meanders down to a slow-moving tributary of their wild river, drinks hungrily from the gleaming depths.  Another sets off into the black-dark of the dense woodland beyond.  He catches the flashing movement of a tail before the shadows completely envelop the horse.  Briefly, he thinks about following the unknown-from-this-distance individual.  Perhaps they are off to patrol the borders; maybe they can divide and conquer the task.  These days, the more watching eyes, the better.  But just as the grey stallion has taken a step into the full sunlight beyond his tree, another thought occurs to him: if it is more eyes they need, he knows exactly where they might be found.  Best of all, none of them even have to leave the kingdom in order to procure the additional assistance.

 
Somewhere, nestled up high in the mountains, the spirits have almost matured.

Ramiel has made countless trips up and down the treacherous path to the pool over the last several years.  He’s watched the creature in the water grow from an indistinguishable puff of white to a lean, juvenile bird that he still has no name for.  He imagines he will, though, and that it will be sometime soon.  Already, the bird has the curved, sharp beak of a predator and the glinting, intelligent eyes of a hunter.  It is his soul in the flesh - or it is supposed to be, anyway – but he is still surprised by the choice.  And despite the kinship he feels every time he locks eyes with the staring avian, he’s not sure it is truly his soul looking back at him.

Is he a hunter?  Is the ability to kill settled deep into the hollows of his bones, yet untested but still present regardless?

He’s not sure, but he is of so little these days that he’s grown used to uncertainty.  It fuels him now as he makes his way back up the increasingly familiar trail.  Because even if they have no idea what these souls are capable of, (perhaps they are nothing more than intangible curiosities, serving only to distract them from the real world below) they have to be as prepared as they can.  He’d promised the unsettling Deserts stallion as much when he came bearing news of the Valley’s growing unrest.  He’d said not to underestimate the Dale, and he’d meant it.  For now, solving one riddle would possibly solve so much more.  Using the creatures in the coming war would be an asset that they cannot pass up, if the opportunity is available to them.  

And when he finally makes his way to the top of the hillside (his breath catching slightly from effort) he sees that he will not be alone in piecing together the mystery.  There is someone else, he can see their movement, but they are largely covered by the foliage rising around the pool at the center of the clearing.  “Good morning,” his smooth voice calls out ahead, not wanting to frighten whoever has come even earlier than he.  Ramiel shuffles closer, easing his way between a few thorny plants before he emerges into the empty space beyond.  The spring-fed pool dips into the ground at his feet, clear and cold and full of secrets.  Already, he can see the beady black eyes peering at him from just beyond the lip, conjured by its keeper’s presence.  “Strange, isn’t it?”  He finally pulls his gaze from the bird to look at his companion, familiarity like light on his face.  “But beautiful, too.  What do you see?”
 

ramiel

[Weir]

wisdom-creation-guidance

Things grow ever curious as the days pass. The world is at unrest, perhaps that is why Weir too is at unrest. He's risen much earlier than usual this day, the pool of souls calls to him, whether he imagines it or not he isn't sure. He's come to enjoy this little place of quiet, the clearing hidden against brambles and bushes. It's the quietest spot in the Dale he thinks, and it is the best place for thinking.

And if you're Weir, it's a good place for talking too.

He's been having a rather nice conversation with his spirit today, and he laughs at a rather good joke they've just shared. His laughter ends quite quickly when he hears the approach of another. He shifts around the grasses and leaves, pushing through them so he can peek out and see who it is. Turns out he doesn't have to peek at anyone, a familiar voice breaks it's way through the foliage and Weir grins. Ramiel.

The King has come and he can only feel glad to have him for company at such an early hour. "Halloo Good Morning, Good Morning." He calls, shaking the bushes with his head and walking around them to greet his friend. "Ramiel, it's good to see you. To what do we owe such pleasant company?" He asks as he steps in at the grey stallions side, walking back with him to the pool.

"Strange?" He asks, dipping his head to look into the depths of the pond. "I find it less and less strange every day. Why, I see Darwin of course. Isn't he something?" Weir pauses, almost pressing his nose against the liquid surface. Weir had been terribly afraid to see his soul at first, fearing the worst. He had for some reason expected something awful to be staring back up at him, but instead his soul was the most glorious of animals. A proud, hearty, and majestic creature. "Darwin is a Tortoise, a Galapagos Giant Tortoise, Chelonoidis nigra" A proud, almost fatherly ring to his voice, as he stands beaming at the grey. "Not much longer now, Darwin tells me they are all almost ready to come out." It's the very thing he is most excited about, like a young boy waiting for Christmas morning.

WEIR

To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable

sorry I wanted to get something up before I put all my focus into quest post >.<

[Elysteria]

Elysteria

Love is a temporary madness,
it erupts like a volcano, then subsides.
And when it subsides, you have to make a decision.

She has been visiting the quiet pool more often of late. She finds the sacred place soothing, a balm to her injured soul. Everything has changed, and so quickly it seems. But in this place at least, she can find some small modicum of comfort.

She normally comes when it is quiet, when the others are not around. But it seems she is not the only one coming here more often of late. She knows, of course, that Ramiel and Weir visit frequently. It would be nearly impossible not to know. Her empathy grows stronger, even as the creatures in the pool do. She has become so attuned to the other residents of the Dale that she can recognize them all now without even seeing their faces. She tries not to listen for the most part. They must certainly want privacy in their lives, just as she does. She does her best to give them that, but sometimes it is difficult. Especially when emotions are high. And perhaps it had been wrong of her, but in trying to give them their privacy, she often found it best if she were the one to hide away. She shouldn’t have done so, she knows. She feels the shame of it, but it seems her choices are limited these days.

But today, even though she knows that they are there, she chooses not to leave. She has been starved for companionship, and she knows that they will not turn her away. Besides, she has a strong desire to see her own spirit animal today. The lovely creature always seems to have a way of soothing her oft damaged soul.

As she breaks through the closely growing trees of the forest into the small clearing that contains the spring, a warm smile curves her dark lips. Her cinnamon eyes move casually from one stallion to the next, her gaze bright and friendly. She dips her head slightly, the small nod an easy and customary greeting of hers.

“Ramiel, Weir. It is so good to see you this morning. I hope you are both well.”

She had arrived in time to hear the last of Weir’s words, something about Darwin being a tortoise (he had a much fancier name for him than that, of course) and them being just about ready to emerge. This part she knows of course. She is looking forward to the time when her own spirit might manifest.

Coming to a halt before the still water, her bright gaze drops to the surface. She had long since grown used to the oddity of gazing into the quiet pond and seeing not her own reflection, but that of a refined, elegant bird.

“It will be good to see more than simply their reflection, don’t you think?”

You have to work out whether your roots
have so entwined together
that it is inconceivable that you should ever part.
Because this is what love is.

I'm really sorry this took so long :/