12-07-2019, 09:24 PM
<p align=justify>The water beckons them. She lowers her head and her nostrils flare as she hesitantly eyes the water's edge. Something calls them forward. The oasis is lovely and blue: hues of turquoise and promise swirl together in an achingly sweet scent of water and hope in this arid landscape. The dunes that surround them fall away against the gravitational pull of water and that desperate need to quench thirst. It becomes momentarily forgotten as someone speaks and she looks behind her to see Cassian. He hobbles and it clouds her expression with concern, bleary blue eyes filling with worry.
His lopsided grin puts her at ease in this unfamiliar place and her smile produces a dimple in return, Lilliana shaking her head with a silent apology in reply. Her voice has gone missing somewhere in these shifting sands and her throat runs ragged and raw with no sound coming from that dark mouth. There is a minute where they both stare at each other and then Lilli feels herself drawing back to Neverwhere, seeking the comfort of a friend. The dappled woman is already wading into the water, Lilliana and Cassian forgotten under the spell that the oasis has cast. The copper mare follows, taking one heavy step after another as the water rushes to embrace her. It cools and soothes all those aching places, washes away the scent of sand and sweat and blood. When it has reached her chest and she feels Neverwhere firmly beside her again, Lilli reaches towards its shimmering surface and drinks deeply. Water has never tasted so sweet.
The world retreats as she satiates that desperate thirst.
When her chiseled head raises, the fog is back. The world blurs around her (though she feels Neverwhere's shoulder, a solid touch in a world rendered irrational). Suddenly, there is a black mare - as dark as a night without stars or a moon - that flirts with the edge of a cliff. She faces a perilous destiny and the heart in Lilli's chest turns to thunder. <i>No!</i> she wants to cry though the words do not come. <i>No!</i> she wants to insist though she is frozen where she stands. The black mare's green eyes are wide and they rail against something, an emotion that comes with a name: <i>Aida.</i> Lilliana's gentle heart breaks into a thousand pieces before the fog whirls in again.
It reveals a flame that flickers against the desert.
The golden woman is illuminated by the dying sun and Lilli hears the sound of rage and fury as hooves and teeth clash. That metallic smell is back again - the aroma of copper and sweat staining the air as much as the sand. There is a <i>crack</i> that vibrates along the dunes and Lilliana wants to cry out again: <i>Stop.</i> No sound comes and the mirage does not give any pause. There is no acknowledgment that she even exists at all. And then the mare is down, buried by the anger of the stallion and his voice is echoing against the sunset, the orange of his eyes rolling away as he tears them out.
And then an impossible command comes from the desert: choose.
But her choice has already been made. It has been since the moment her blue-eyed gaze had landed on the palomino mare. A voice breaks through the fog (<i>be careful</i>) but her delirium has already made her focus on the fallen woman. Gold has been imprinted on her soul since that day by a laughing river. Gold has been wrapped around her heart for years. It is etched along the dark places that she carries now - wrapped around grieving mornings in Culloden and moonless nights in Hyaline. Gold is her color of love and bravery and courage, of the pelt that this woman wears.
The stallion lunges at her, foaming and frothing, made manic and frenzied in his hatred as the memory plays again. She doesn't know what the palomino has done to make him so angry. (<i>It does not matter - she would have forgiven Elaina anything.</i>) Lilliana is not a fighter; there is nothing in her demeanor or disposition that paints her as a warrior. Dread settles like doom into the pit of her stomach. She knows she is no match for this orange-eyed stallion. She knows this and yet she has to do something.
The <i>crack</i> resonates through the desert again as the memory loops and it spurs the chestnut mare on, a whip that lashes her forward.
Her weight shifts to her hind and Lilliana sprints, surging towards the golden woman who falls down, down, down. Away from her. <i>No</i>, her thoughts roar. This scene is too reminiscent of nightmares, of her greatest fear. This woman is not Elaina - the curves are different, the cornsilk of her mane is too fine, the amber of her eyes burn a different shade. But in the haze of the desert, it so easy to pretend that this could be Elaina.
The mare sinks below the sand and the stallion has turned on himself. He paws at his eyes, tearing them from his head and Lilliana slides beside the woman dressed in gold. She comes behind her, her legs folding gently and she settles against her in a way that suggests Lilli has done this action a thousand times before. The silhouettes don't match - the hip bones are different, the arch of her neck set definitely, the curves are unfamiliar but the gesture is still a true and intimate one. The chest beside her rattles, struggling for air as blood pools in places that it shouldn't be. Lilli's heart races, issues a war cry against her ribs, as life starts to drain away from this woman.
The black stallion is still out there - <i>is this enough mother, is this enough</i> - he continues to call. This is a new level of Insanity, another ring she has never known. Her heart has not yet been forged to steel and something in her aches even for the man who moans among the sands.
She wishes she could do something for them both and yet it is the warmth of the mare pressed against her that she claims. The day is leaving them as this flame is leaving her. There are so many things she wants to say and she is bewildered that she can't find her words. Her voice is still missing and she has no way of deafening the agonized cries that carry on the wind. <i>You do not die here,</i> she thinks. Light blossoms in her soul - queer magic that pools in her as the blood pools in the pierced organs of the palomino and what Lilliana has to give, she does. It travels from her to the place of bone and sinew, of muscle and marrow and what she can conjure, she creates and rebuilds for this dimming candle she cradles gently next to her. It isn't much - it won't heal everything. But the accusations of the stallion become forgotten (or perhaps they have stopped, she doesn't know, she no longer hears him) as she focuses what remaining energy she has in keeping this nestled flame lit.
<i>You do not die here,</i> Lilliana thinks again. It is a determined and fierce thought blazing in its insistence, as the last of her gift gives. The world is fading to velvet blue with the sun finally going down. She does not know this mare. She knows nothing of her story. The only thing she knows is that it does not end here. This mare is not <i>her</i> torch but she might be the light in the darkness for someone else.
As it all slips away, as it all vanishes back into the fog, Lilliana thinks that there could be no better way to fall into this void than one last glimpse of copper and gold coming together again.
His lopsided grin puts her at ease in this unfamiliar place and her smile produces a dimple in return, Lilliana shaking her head with a silent apology in reply. Her voice has gone missing somewhere in these shifting sands and her throat runs ragged and raw with no sound coming from that dark mouth. There is a minute where they both stare at each other and then Lilli feels herself drawing back to Neverwhere, seeking the comfort of a friend. The dappled woman is already wading into the water, Lilliana and Cassian forgotten under the spell that the oasis has cast. The copper mare follows, taking one heavy step after another as the water rushes to embrace her. It cools and soothes all those aching places, washes away the scent of sand and sweat and blood. When it has reached her chest and she feels Neverwhere firmly beside her again, Lilli reaches towards its shimmering surface and drinks deeply. Water has never tasted so sweet.
The world retreats as she satiates that desperate thirst.
When her chiseled head raises, the fog is back. The world blurs around her (though she feels Neverwhere's shoulder, a solid touch in a world rendered irrational). Suddenly, there is a black mare - as dark as a night without stars or a moon - that flirts with the edge of a cliff. She faces a perilous destiny and the heart in Lilli's chest turns to thunder. <i>No!</i> she wants to cry though the words do not come. <i>No!</i> she wants to insist though she is frozen where she stands. The black mare's green eyes are wide and they rail against something, an emotion that comes with a name: <i>Aida.</i> Lilliana's gentle heart breaks into a thousand pieces before the fog whirls in again.
It reveals a flame that flickers against the desert.
The golden woman is illuminated by the dying sun and Lilli hears the sound of rage and fury as hooves and teeth clash. That metallic smell is back again - the aroma of copper and sweat staining the air as much as the sand. There is a <i>crack</i> that vibrates along the dunes and Lilliana wants to cry out again: <i>Stop.</i> No sound comes and the mirage does not give any pause. There is no acknowledgment that she even exists at all. And then the mare is down, buried by the anger of the stallion and his voice is echoing against the sunset, the orange of his eyes rolling away as he tears them out.
And then an impossible command comes from the desert: choose.
But her choice has already been made. It has been since the moment her blue-eyed gaze had landed on the palomino mare. A voice breaks through the fog (<i>be careful</i>) but her delirium has already made her focus on the fallen woman. Gold has been imprinted on her soul since that day by a laughing river. Gold has been wrapped around her heart for years. It is etched along the dark places that she carries now - wrapped around grieving mornings in Culloden and moonless nights in Hyaline. Gold is her color of love and bravery and courage, of the pelt that this woman wears.
The stallion lunges at her, foaming and frothing, made manic and frenzied in his hatred as the memory plays again. She doesn't know what the palomino has done to make him so angry. (<i>It does not matter - she would have forgiven Elaina anything.</i>) Lilliana is not a fighter; there is nothing in her demeanor or disposition that paints her as a warrior. Dread settles like doom into the pit of her stomach. She knows she is no match for this orange-eyed stallion. She knows this and yet she has to do something.
The <i>crack</i> resonates through the desert again as the memory loops and it spurs the chestnut mare on, a whip that lashes her forward.
Her weight shifts to her hind and Lilliana sprints, surging towards the golden woman who falls down, down, down. Away from her. <i>No</i>, her thoughts roar. This scene is too reminiscent of nightmares, of her greatest fear. This woman is not Elaina - the curves are different, the cornsilk of her mane is too fine, the amber of her eyes burn a different shade. But in the haze of the desert, it so easy to pretend that this could be Elaina.
The mare sinks below the sand and the stallion has turned on himself. He paws at his eyes, tearing them from his head and Lilliana slides beside the woman dressed in gold. She comes behind her, her legs folding gently and she settles against her in a way that suggests Lilli has done this action a thousand times before. The silhouettes don't match - the hip bones are different, the arch of her neck set definitely, the curves are unfamiliar but the gesture is still a true and intimate one. The chest beside her rattles, struggling for air as blood pools in places that it shouldn't be. Lilli's heart races, issues a war cry against her ribs, as life starts to drain away from this woman.
The black stallion is still out there - <i>is this enough mother, is this enough</i> - he continues to call. This is a new level of Insanity, another ring she has never known. Her heart has not yet been forged to steel and something in her aches even for the man who moans among the sands.
She wishes she could do something for them both and yet it is the warmth of the mare pressed against her that she claims. The day is leaving them as this flame is leaving her. There are so many things she wants to say and she is bewildered that she can't find her words. Her voice is still missing and she has no way of deafening the agonized cries that carry on the wind. <i>You do not die here,</i> she thinks. Light blossoms in her soul - queer magic that pools in her as the blood pools in the pierced organs of the palomino and what Lilliana has to give, she does. It travels from her to the place of bone and sinew, of muscle and marrow and what she can conjure, she creates and rebuilds for this dimming candle she cradles gently next to her. It isn't much - it won't heal everything. But the accusations of the stallion become forgotten (or perhaps they have stopped, she doesn't know, she no longer hears him) as she focuses what remaining energy she has in keeping this nestled flame lit.
<i>You do not die here,</i> Lilliana thinks again. It is a determined and fierce thought blazing in its insistence, as the last of her gift gives. The world is fading to velvet blue with the sun finally going down. She does not know this mare. She knows nothing of her story. The only thing she knows is that it does not end here. This mare is not <i>her</i> torch but she might be the light in the darkness for someone else.
As it all slips away, as it all vanishes back into the fog, Lilliana thinks that there could be no better way to fall into this void than one last glimpse of copper and gold coming together again.
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind