 | it had been a taste of freedom. a snapshot of what her life could be again, and then it was snatched away. how many words had she managed to speak? less than a hundred, surely, and now those words were trapped again.
the bird was caged again.
aranea felt a thousand different emotions that swirled in to one significant mass. it weighed her down and she could think of nothing to do except FLY. if there was any light in this change it was the two new appendages that sprouted from her shoulders giving her a taste of that freedom she craved so deeply.
she flew across the skies of beqanna and embraced a dozen new feelings, breath a hundred new scents, and saw truly how much it had changed.
there was true magic here, old magic.
when she finally landed it was only because she had spotted the one she was looking for. he looked much the same, though she had little doubt that he was as internally conflicted and surprised as she was. vivid orange eyes rested on the valley king (however fleeting she had known him as such it was as such she would continue to think of him) and she snorted quietly in an attempt to draw his attention.
and in her eyes and the tilt of her head h would see the question - what now?
ARANEA
(immortal, mute, infrared vision)from dust, she returned
the dream, an enigma... silent
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@[Eight]
09-06-2016, 11:49 AM
(This post was last modified: 09-06-2016, 11:49 AM by Eight.)
 no matter what they say, I am still the king
Freedom had been taken from so many. It was strange how easily It was for everyone to take advantage of the magic of Beqanna – to flaunt powers, soar on feathered wings, transform into whatever they’d like – the list of powers were endless. But some? Some needed Beqanna’s magic to survive, to communicate, to speak. You are one of them. You are entrapped once again, so soon after escaping to the bliss of worldly communication. Like a bird on a string, you soared two beats into the air, only to be brought back to earth.
Well, perhaps you have been brought back into your cage of silence, but it seems you have embraced the skies with flight. Your chosen gift had been wings, not unlike Eight’s own – and as you plummet from the sky and land neatly, a smile skitters across Eight’s face. He too knew the feeling of freedom and flight – how blissfully weightless it was to be careening through the air. From your tangled locks, the ever so slight lilt in your step – he could tell that flight was your freedom now.
He turns to you and nods towards your wings. “Something old, something new, hm?” He knew, of course, that there was no way to speak to you now. His magic gone, he couldn’t probe into your mind to pick out the bits and pieces of conversation you wished to say. But there was the benefit of already having been in your mind. In the moments of time he had spent with you, he swam freely through the depths of your mind, and it’s as intimate as anything. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage now.
” It’s good to see you. I’ve been coming across many of the Valley’s old members. I’ve been working with Offspring of the Tundra and Magnus of the Gates – we are petitioning to open up a land. If it would please you, you could join us. It won’t be like our Valley, but at least it will become a home.” He looks to you, knowing there is little that you can say, but somehow knowing you would be able to communicate it just fine.
∞ and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
@[Aranea]
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in change she had found and lost freedom. would she have traded one for the other? if given the choice would she have offered the gods her voice for the wings that sprouted from her shoulders? ah, but why dwell - she had not been given such a choice. none of them had.
so here they were and there they had been and she found that it wasn't so bad. him she knew and him she turned to - a lost puppy, no, but still a soul in need of guidance.
he gave it freely.
acknowledgement of the wings was given with a slight tip of her head and a bemused smile that seemed to say at least it's something. but he was quick to move on and so was she as her vivid eyes sparked to life at the mention of a new home.
aranea did not hesitate - she nodded. it was a simple and silent acceptance of his offer and it was more than enough. yes, she would join him. yes, she would follow. while the other two names meant little (though she WAS amused that she would live with the very one she had sought to recruit) it was all she needed. perhaps when magic returned and she had a voice they would laugh over the turn of events, but for now she simply looked to him to lead the way. she went one step further, even, and reached with a velvety muzzle to touch his shoulder in a ever silent gesture of her appreciation. it was good to be believed in.
ARANEA
(immortal, mute, infrared vision)from dust, she returned
the dream, an enigma... silent
|
@[Eight]
no matter what they say, I am still the king
What would any of them have done given the choice? Would they have preferred to mill about in their own worlds – Beqanna forever unchanging? Would Eight ever have chosen to give up his magic? While it was a stark realization that he had become ‘normal’ – he had actually become okay with it. Unlike you, it was not a cage that held him in.
There were ties between you two – farther back than meetings from long ago. It was something deeper, something only the history of Beqanna could give. The memory of Sage and furtive conversations and witty banter – it is strange that kinships from so long ago can continue to weave their way into the present. Surely that wasn’t the only reason you and Eight had collided – there were interests between the two of you alone. But there was no doubt that the history of the spider king and spider woman wove so tightly a path to now.
You touch his shoulder, and it is almost a relief that sinks in. Eight did not touch – rarely, if ever. There were times where he would shy at the touch of another upon his own. His dark days that were filled with vile and venom, with spite and distaste for the world – where his magic was a beacon of the depths of hell. And now? Now your velvet muzzle on his shoulder meant more. It was an admittance of trust, that you - silent and unsure, unable to speak to a single soul – trusted Eight to carry you safely to where you needed to be, trusted him enough to voice what you may be thinking (even now, when he could not exactly read you like an open book).
“We have been granted a home, Aranea. And I will take you there.” He steps beside you, pointing the long way back to their newly granted refuge. “I don’t know when- if – I’ll get my magic back. But until I do, I will stay near you and I will do the best I can to read what you are trying to say.” He nearly reaches out to touch you, a silent thank you for the trust you place in him. But instead, he jerks his head towards the new land. ” Let’s go home, Aranea.”
(You can post her up in the new land if you’d like!)
∞ and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in
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