By the Light of the Moon (Chaos)

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Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 11, 2011 15:21:19 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Sept 11, 2011 15:21:19 GMT -5

. Lia . Veronica . Summarell .
And so we spread these broken wings,
And dare to think of impossible things.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I can't fly.

Alana once told me of these beautiful creatures that lived up, above our home. She said that they had very flat arms, and when they moved the arms up and down, they'd lift off the ground and soar through the air. Mother says she remembers the birds- she says that she always admired their power and freedom. Father says that they were all different colors. He then listed meaningless colors, and the only ones I remember are white and black. After Alana told me about birds, I jumped on my bed, lifting my arms up and down, hitting the air as hard as I could. And I leaped, breathing, feeling that one instant where gravity cannot pull one down. And then I hit the ground with a very loud thump. I am not a bird, therefor I cannot fly. But flight sounds like the very thing I need, for while my parents seem to think that this horrible underground labyrinth is freedom, I dare to disagree. I drag my hand across a dusty wall, wrinkling my nose at the damp, muddy smell that I should have gotten used to a long time ago.

The long hallway is unlit, but I've been wandering through this maze (prison) for years. I hardly need to depend on my sight to move around anymore. Besides, I've walked this path a million times, whenever I'm especially lonely. I'm positive that this is the way Alana took to escape that night- I found a torn piece of her black cloak caught on the sharp edge of a window in an abandoned room in this hallway. (That one piece of black, worn and fraying, remains in my dresser drawer, unseen for years because it reminds me that she is gone, gone, gone and those kinds of thoughts cause blinding pain inside of me that takes a long time to go away.) Tall grasses have always blocked my view of the outside world, but they are something other than the dusty, lifeless world I live in now.

I had been almost asleep when it happened. The ceiling had suddenly disappeared, replaced by the window I know so well. But something was wrong- the glass was tilted toward me, so that I could reach through and feel the grass if I liked. And then I had heard a voice, so familiar that it made my eyes widen in disbelief. "And you'll never be alone, Lia- you will find friends who will protect you, and you'll find them hiding in the strangest places." There was a flash of black, something bright white, and then I had been in my bed again, pale as a sheet and breathing heavy. Of course, it had taken me a moment to recognize what the vision meant- I was going to see Alana again. All I had to do was climb out that window, and she'd be there. What else could it possibly mean?

And so now I move down the hallway, as silent as a ghost, toward the abandoned room. The door is unlocked, and opens with a creak that makes me cringe, but no one comes, and so I continue into the room. The only think that fills the small space is a bed, the mattress lacking sheets, covers, and a pillow. Some say this room is haunted, but I have spent hours sitting on this very bed, gazing up at a window that is my only clue as to where she went and what happened to her, and nothing scary or mysterious has ever happened here. I wander over to the bed, my eyes automatically shooting up toward the corner of the window where I found that torn piece of cloth. I step up onto the springy mattress and examine the window, biting down on my lower lip. A wrinkle appears between my eyebrows as I stretch forward cautiously, shoving too-large fingers into the tiny crack beneath the glass and desperately pulling. And, to my surprise, it opens.

Immediately, something amazing fills the air. Something that smells fresh and damp and clean. The grass bows toward me, and I reach out in delight to feel the smooth surface of the long, hairlike plants that grow out of the ground. I have, of course, seen plants before- we grew them in class as an experiment (the little rocks I had been given had, of course, failed to grow into the same odd, delicate things that everyone else had), but I have never seen plants in such abundance. I think dig my fingers into ground, which is damp, spongy, and so much better than the dirt we have here. Somehow, everything feels so much more alive. I take a deep breath and jump up, off the mattress, and into the window, clawing at the ground and kicking the air with me feet, ungracefully pulling myself through the small hole inch by agonizing inch, until I finally laying face down on the ground, with a mouth full of something that tastes disgustingly similar to the food they feed us down in the cafeteria.

But it was worth it.

There are a few paintings of the outside world that hang in various places all over District Thirteen, and Alana wasted no time in having me memorizing each and every one of them. So the things I see when I look up are not totally unfamiliar- those tall, dark things are trees, and I'm laying in grass. But everything feels so much more real- and it's a good feeling. Alana told me that I was born in the woods, and that when I finally saw the outside world, I would be connecting with my home. She couldn't have been more right- the more I smell and see and feel, the more I realize that I don't belong trapped underground. I belong up here, out here. I throw my head back so my pale waves of hair tumble back behind me, staring at the blackness dotted with white that I know to be the night sky Directly above me is the pale, round moon, giving off a strange pale light that makes my skin seem to glow. There is no mud ceiling to block my view- up above me is something never ending, something beautiful, something huge.

And for a moment, I forget about Alana. I forget about not being smart enough in school, and not having any friends, and being trapped. In this moment, I am free and nobody can take that away from me.

I close my eyes tightly shut, spread my arms out like wings, and breath.

[/size]

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By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 11, 2011 18:59:43 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Sept 11, 2011 18:59:43 GMT -5

Xena of Amphipolis

BEING SPEAKING THINKING HEARING SINGING

[/size]

♏ So, glow child, glow, I'm heading back home ♏[/center][/color][/size][/font]

under a dead ohio sky
eleven has been and will be waiting
defending her light and wondering...
where the hell have I been?[/font][/color][/blockquote]

A crackle of twigs catch the attention of ice blue eyes. The rustling grows, and the quiet footsteps along the broken bed of foliage still. Ever so slowly, fingers twitch as an arm reaches back to unhook a crude bow strapped across a covered chest, drawing a wooden arrow with a sharpened point. As the noises grow hesitant, a quiet inhale of breath is drawn and muscles strain as the arrow is nocked with gentle care. Gaze narrowed, the figure seems to stand like this for a small eternity, back tense and string quivering under the tension. Perked ears catch the smallest noise and the body whirls to the sound, letting the rough arrow fly into the bracken in utmost silence. There is a quiet thump and the stilling of waving branches, followed by the sound of cracking bark and then the world is once again swallowed by the loud silence that only nature can deliver.

Scowling, Xena pushes her way through the dying leaves and angrily yanks her arrow from the tree, shoving it back into her makeshift quiver and shifting the scabbard on her hip so that it doesn't rub. Perhaps she's lost the skill with time, but it's been proving much more difficult than she originally remembered being to simply line up an arrow with a target and actually hit her mark. She thanks Artemis that she still remembers the vast majority of her botany and that this strange world hasn't changed landscape to the point where it is unrecognizable, or else she'd be dead from starvation days in. The few travellers she's passed have given her strange looks but none the less offered her food in exchange for company - even she knows when she's out of her depth and grudgingly agreed. It's how she finds herself here, in a thicker part of forest than she's ever seen so far on this world, forging through the heavy branches tipped with gold in search of a distant ruin that lies almost forgotten amongst the disaster of this new reality.

Even now she longs for her old world, of gods and villages and quiet, simple things lacking of this strange technology that she knows from her time of being Thalassa but can never quite understand; like when you have a memory you can't place but know it exists regardless. She misses the thrill of the fight and longs for knowledge of her distant son that she had given up in order to be a warlord of epic prowess. More than anything, she craves a flash of golden-white hair and a gleaming smile with mischevious eyes and a solid quarter-staff, with dressings of the Amazons.

She licks her lips and shakes her head, pushing the pictures out of her mind. I've been gone for way too long. There's no way her original body exists. Yet this doesn't disenhearten her. There is no crippling loss one feels of losing a loved one. No, she is living proof of that. If she was reborn in this time, this life, she will simply have to cross the world to find her again. Gabrielle tried so very hard to save her but it was simply not to be - she had abused her body to the point where it would no longer wish to allow her soul back inside. But she knew, deep down, in that part of her that she could never explain, that it was not the last they would see of each other. And that was enough to carry her through these forests, endlessly searching for something she wasn't sure if she could find.

There is a gleaming sliver of blinding white amongst the trees and she smiles despite her inner musings, bringing a gentle hand upwards to stroke the muscular neck that is presented to her once she breaches the small clearing. "Whoa, boy." She murmurs, letting the velvet muzzle map the smooth skin of her palm as two large pools of liquid onyx stare back at her, reflecting the steady glow of the full moon and the small fire that flickers weakly in a pit. From the canvas backpack attached to the saddle she draws a handful of waterleaves and chews absently, sighing at the absence of meat in her diet. She has fought with gods and conquered nations! What has she become, trotting alone through a foreign forest surviving on nothing but ferns? The warrior interior (and exterior, judging from the leather garb she sports) revolts angrily, but takes some comfort in the fact that all of her enemies have long since passed on to other forms and purposes.

It seems strange that she would be the only one still seeking her original goal, but karma is a fickle thing. She once pledged to carry out retribution through several life times, and it seems that the gods are serious about her promises.

Xena crouches by the dying flames and unravels a worn piece of paper, squinting by the firelight in an effort to read the messy scrawl printed with loose shapes across the paper. "And that's District Thirteen." mutters the old man, chewing on a stale piece of bread that seems much too hard for how many teeth he lacks. The warrior studies the map with utmost attention, cocking her head carefully and tracing the worn lines with her fingers. These towns are all so large and spread apart - the Capitol rivals even Rome in its greatness, with the towering spires made from metal and the broken ground scarred by set stone. She frowns and peers at the scrawl of ruins for a closer look, running a finger across the ink. They've gotten along well; he doesn't ask questions but is content to provide answers, and the horse has helped him to be free of his injured leg.

"Thirteen, you say." She muses, trying to burn the map into her mind. Xena remembers the vague outlines of her past life, sitting in classes and viewing the smoking wreckage playing on the small, fuzzy screen. "What happened to it?" He shrugs and wipes his hands on his pants, squinting against the crimson red of the setting sun. "They rebelled. The big dogs didn't like that." Apollo nickers his consent from where he grazes and shifts uneasily, pale coat being brushed with strokes of yellow and pink in the fading dusk.

There is a tugging in her gut that starts, slow and quiet at first, but grows over the next few days that becomes difficult to ignore. Xena's mind turns often to District Thirteen, of smoking wreckage and wars and eyes of ashen grey that beckon through her dreams. She sleeps poorly, and grows increasingly weary of the constant ache that tugs, deep in her navel, to an unknown direction. When she mentions offhandedly, the old man looks to her with a sparkle in his gaze that says that the ruins of the doomed District lie in that direction.

It takes two days of resistance before she bids him farewell and parts towards them.

If his words are to be trusted, and why not? He had nothing to gain from lying she should be rounding upon the underground city within the night. Such a strange concept, living underground. Wouldn't they miss the trees, the sun, the kiss of the wind upon their skin? It barely even registers to her that some could go their whole life without the embrace of the moon and shakes it off in repulsion, taking care to draw strength from the gentle glow that sets her bracers aflame. Scuffing out the fire and assuring that the wisps of smoke dissipate into the night sky, Xena swings up onto Apollo's saddle, stroking his mane gently and murmuring reassuring words when he dances nervously. She knows he hates travelling the forest at night but she doesn't want to spend another moment here; the aching has turned into a base pull that she feels within her very essence, twining its way through her soul to rest heavily in the bottom of her heart. The weight on her chest grows with each breath she takes, and she fears she will drown if something doesn't appear soon.

Nudging him into a steady trot, branches float by and she keeps her body low, growling angrily in her throat at how unsteady she feels on the back of the beast. Before this new body she was one of the best horsemen in the nations, but now she finds herself falling at a steady intervel. It seems it is just another strange concept of reincarnation, and she pushes herself forward with tense thighs and gleaming eyes.

Xena seems to carry on for ages, letting the motions and the cool night air lull her into a state of semi-contentment. The weight withing her heart seems to be growing more intense, tugging insistently in a specific direction. Her body straightens in anticipation as it morphs into a palpable feeling, crawling across her skin and through her hair, tying her tongue and making her fingers fidget with restless energy. The sword at her hip bumps gently into her thigh, the touch reassuring in the most unexplainable ways.

The clearing is where it happens. She speeds into the opening and spies the crumbling stonework first; gaping chasms and rubble spread out as far as the eye can see. Breath whistling in through her teeth, her gaze quickly scans the old devastation and the beginnings of new life slumbering quietly under the ground upon which Apollo's hooves rest. From what she can tell there are no guards, and his shining coat would have already been a beacon for hostile encounter. Yet, there is a shape, writhing in the grass. Xena cocks her head curiously and urges him forward slowly, one hand cautiously resting upon the hilt of her sword. The thing (a person, she recognizes, a girl) spreads her arms out to the sky and at that moment, everything stops.

It's the yank of her chest that spurs her back into action, almost tripping herself up in order to dismout her horse with her tattered black cloak swirling around her body in a frenzy, hood pulled up to shadow all but her jaw. She takes in the shimmering hair caught alight by the moonglow and the joyous expression and just everything, younger but still all her in a way that has Xena thanking all the gods that would listen to her prayers. They once said that their souls were so intertwined that they'd always find each other and of that she had no doubt, but as she takes her first step forward it is still surreal that after being apart for so long, they will gravitate together like no time had ever passed.

A name of docile familiarity but utmost importance slips from her mouth, whispering out into the open air. All her muscles are trembling and the weight on her chest vanishes and her lips they form a smile.

"Gabrielle."

[/size][/blockquote]

Last Edit: Sept 12, 2011 14:06:34 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 13, 2011 21:06:26 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Sept 13, 2011 21:06:26 GMT -5

. Lia . Veronica . Summarell .
Dream of sky and trees and grass,
Can't escape this world of glass.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

"Hush, Lia," she whispers, sitting as still as a statue on the bed near the window. I gaze at her from across the room, not impressed but unwilling to tell her so because of the way she stares at the outside world so longingly. For a moment, silence fills the air between us, and all I can hear is my own gentle breathing. I long to get away from her and do something fun, but Alana seems so determined to stay and I know there's no point in arguing.

And suddenly, I hear it. A high pitched note that pierces the air, soft and barely detectable but certainly there. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I open my mouth to ask Alana about it, but she holds up her hand and my mouth shuts again. I listen closely, and I hear another high pitched note. And then, suddenly, it's a series of high pitched notes, making a song like I've never heard before. Something beautiful and definitely not made by people. A melody that cuts the air, yet is gentle and soft and one that I know I'll want to hear again.

"Birds," whispers Alana, her eyes soft. "Those are the sounds they make."

"It's... beautiful," I say, unsurprised that the magnificent creatures Alana tells me about are the source of the lovely music. "How do they do that?"

"Does it matter," asks Alana, smiling. "The music is there, and it's beautiful, and it's something worth hearing. Why waste time wondering how they sing when we could just be enjoying the song?"

I nod, and for the next fifteen minutes, that is exactly what we do.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

"Gabrielle."

The sudden noise is this beautiful peace startles me. My eyes snap open, my arms drop to my sides, and for a second, I remain stiff and motionless, hardly daring to breath. I hadn't imagined the voice, but the entire situation feels so unreal. Could it really be her? I knew she would come back, because she promised, and Alana always keeps her promises. Still, so much time passed... it seems so impossible that this is her, standing behind me, with that small smile on her face and that slightly playful glint in her eyes that is somehow sad at the same time, with a wild mane of dark hair that I always brush as soon as she gets here.

I guess I never realized how broken I was when she left until now. Sure, it hurt, but now that she's back, I feel as if a part of my heart has flown back into my heart. After that night, there were no tears, but I was as fragile as a thin glass window, and someone had just thrown a rock at me. I pieced my world back together, but suddenly, I was drifting through life. There was nothing to anchor me to reality- I was living my life as a happy little ghost of my former self, and I mistook emptiness for joy. But now, I know what real joy feels like. It blooms in my chest as I spin around, a broad smile spreading across my face, my eyes lighting up when I see her familiar black curls. She's here. It's all okay. My eyes focus on her face, searching for that surpressed happiness that hides there every time she sees me after a long time. And immediately, I feel myself break all over again.

I have never seen this woman before in my life.

It's as if the weight of the sky has been dropped on my shoulders, and my smile vanishes and is replaced by a look of pure disappointment and sorrow. Despite the fact that her face is hidden in shadow, I know this is not my best friend- Alana holds herself differently, and her smile is more guarded and cautious and uncertain. My eyebrows draw together slightly, and my mouth opens ever so slightly to form the silent word 'what?'. This isn't right- this is supposed to be Alana, not some stranger who pretends to be Alana. Who looks like her, but isn't. I shake my head, and take a step back. "You... I don't-" I cut myself off, going over the vision in my head. This doesn't make any sense- this is supposed to be Alana. It was her voice I heard. Unless...

"And you'll never be alone, Lia- you will find friends who will protect you, and you'll find them hiding in the strangest places."

My expression shifts once again, this time to one of sudden understanding, but immediately hardens. A friend- but where has she been? I've been waiting for years, taking their cruel comments and letting the abyss inside of me swallow them so that they shatter at the bottom of nothingness. For years, I've had nothing to and no one to guide me- I've been so lost. My eyes narrow dangerously, and I can think of only one question to ask her. "Where have you been?"

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: Sept 14, 2011 17:01:46 GMT -5 by Stare

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By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 14, 2011 17:24:33 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Sept 14, 2011 17:24:33 GMT -5

Xena of Amphipolis

BEING SPEAKING THINKING HEARING SINGING

[/size]

♏ Showing me where it all began ♏[/center][/color][/size][/font]

sleeping, lost, and numb
so glad that I have found you
I am wide awake and heading home
[/font][/color][/blockquote]

She knows as soon as her eyes open that it's her, and the weight of the world seems to lift from her chest and her muscles shiver in joy. It speaks of purity and lost memories and time that they didn't have and she looks into the deep blue for a moment, seeing them flash a brilliant gray. Still, her face is off in its anger and Xena clenches her fingers anxiously to her sides, swiping the shawl that hides her face from the moon. Ice blue eyes hit the rays to make them burn but she doesn't even think of anything, licking her lips in thought because it looks like she understands, but even after all these years, it's difficult to have Gabrielle mad at her. It hurts somewhere that she can't quite decipher and doesn't want to, so instead she shifts nervously from foot to foot and tries to find a way to defuse her temper.

"I've... I've been..." She can't find the words because there are no words, so instead she swiftly strides over to where the girl stands. Without any trace of pride she sinks to one knee, armor clinking quietly in the joints. The leather creaks and the breastplate hangs heavy on her torso. Her head bows and the scabbard of her sword brushes the ground, chakram swinging on the other hip with a quiet swish."I'm sorry, Gabrielle." She murmurs, looking to the ground. It occurs to her that perhaps she goes by a different name now. Thalassa whispers her mind but she doesn't answer to that name anymore, content in who she's truly become (or used to be). "I lost my way for a long time. I've travelled all the way from the Capitol to find you, and now I finally have. I knew the Fates would bring us back together again, just like Aphrodite promised. I'm not sure if you remember, but I do."

For a moment she's lost among the rolling hills and fierce warlords, but a pang of homesickness brings her back to the future. Xena misses her mother and her son and even Ares, god of war (if for nothing more than being a familiar face) but over the years Gabrielle became home and it soothes the pains of travelling and hundreds - thousands? - of years apart. She gets glimpses into an eternity of lifetimes, always within sites is that flash of grey and lilting laugh that stays with her always. She smiles, then, for she knows that Gabrielle has never truly left her side.

Xena looks up and her and grins slightly, letting the weight of the past days slide off her back like oil and pool around the floor. She remains on the floor but straightens her back; her hair falls gently around her shoulders and her teeth glimmer as pale crescents in the darkness, drinking in a vaguely familiar face that holds all the things she will ever need. It's okay if she doesn't remember because she doesn't need to quite yet, all these things won't come between them and the friendship that has been harboured throughout the ages. "I'm so sorry. For everything. I know I've made you wait such a long time but I promise, like I will always do, that I'll never leave you." Her armor clinks lightly against and suddenly she feels like a knight pledging alliance to the most beautiful of queens who will chase all her nightmares away when they become too strong. The world is full of dangers and the Gabrielle she knew (Queen of Amazons, Keeper of her Heart) was capable of shrugging off the oppositions. This one, this fragile, birdlike thing has no such luck, and Xena's chakram sings murder for anybody who dare sully her brilliance.

With a swift motion she unclasps the cloak at her neck and lets it float to the floor, uncovering the backpiece that gleams a gorgeous gold. Dirtied by countless hours of moving but still bright as the setting sun, it is suddenly light as air in the face of her newfound determination. Gabrielle has this look about her, of somebody who understands the ways of heartache but also the joys of the endless dream, and Xena wonders if she was lost for such a long time that she forgot her way, too. It sets in her jaw the way that hopelessness has made her feel, and instead locks eyes once again in an effort to bleed across everything she ever wishes to say (they had that way, silent conversations. One glance meant the world).

"Please, my friend." She pleads, drawing her sword and laying it across her knee as proof of her sincerity with the other hand pressing gently against the razored edge, an ancient oath only done in the most pure intentions. "Take me again?"

[/size][/blockquote]

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 14, 2011 18:00:04 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Sept 14, 2011 18:00:04 GMT -5

. Lia . Veronica . Summarell .
Dream of sky and trees and grass,
Can't escape this world of glass.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I frown as she speaks the unfamiliar name again, for my name is not Gabrielle. I am and always will be Lia, the heartbroken girl who keeps from breaking by draining nonexistent strength out of a friend's loyal promise. But she seems so sure that I am the person she wants me to be, and it makes me slightly uncomfortable. My anger drops and it replaced by confusion as she speaks nonsense words of a loyalty I don't understand. I find myself taking a step back, startled, when she bows to me as if I am someone to be respected. The idea is almost laughable- people make fun of me because I'm not smart. They tell me that the reason I can't see colors is because I'm too stupid. In their eyes, I am no more than someone to laugh at. And while I've been managing to let these insults deflect off of me by putting on an armor of indifference, sometimes one particularly cruel sentence manages to slip through and surround my heart, filling it with the ghost of pain because I don't think any emotions they spark inside of me could ever compare the the feeling that filled me from head to toe the night she left ~~forever~~, with words of hope still ringing in my ears.

This sudden attention and the way she acts like I am someone worth caring about takes me aback, because it is like the care Alana held for me, only more intense and clearly expressed. The feeling should be welcomed, but instead it is frozen before it can reach my heart, because I don't know this woman or what she speaks of. These names are unfamiliar to me and so is the odd, shining weapon she balances in front of her. I'm beginning to be afraid and that's not right because I haven't been afraid in such a long time, and I don't enjoy the feeling. I'm about to tell her all of this when her eyes lock with mine.

And the vision comes.

A whisper in the dark. Hot tears pouring down my face. Anger, but not at her, because for some reason, I just can't be mad at her. A name leaves my lips, though I cannot detect it for some reason. My voice sounds choked when I say it, though, as if it is taking all of my effort to push sound out of a chest that feels so heavy it hurts. More tears. A flash of white. I say something more, though once again, I cannot make out the words. But I do make out the response. Simple, yet full of emotion and sorrow and what seems to almost be guilt.

"Yes," I breath, hardly realizing that I'm saying it. Returning back to the present time, with my head spinning, I turn to look at her, my eyes slightly unfocused. The word echoes in my head for a few moments before it actually processes. Yes? Yes. It sticks in my head, set in stone. Yes. I have almost no idea what I'm answering, but I know that I'm saying something that is important to this person, and somehow important to me. I repeat the answer with more certainty, gazing into pale eyes (I've never seen eyes as light as hers) with confidence. "Yes."

But then reality takes over again, and I frown, uncertainly gazing at her. She thinks I'm Gabrielle, and I'm not. What am I supposed to tell her? She is down on one knee in front of me, treating me as if I am actually important. In an unfamiliar world with an even more unfamiliar person, I feel so totally lost. My eyebrows come together further, and I sink down in front of her so that our faces are at an even height, because it feels so strange ~~(but oddly familiar?)~~ to stand above her as if I actually matter. "But... I need to ask you a question." I pause for a moment, trying to figure out a way to lay the words out in between us so that they aren't too barefaced. Unable to do so, though, I just blurt it out. "Who are you?"

[/size][/blockquote][/justify]

Last Edit: Sept 14, 2011 21:55:11 GMT -5 by Stare

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By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 15, 2011 12:07:08 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Sept 15, 2011 12:07:08 GMT -5

Xena of Amphipolis

BEING SPEAKING THINKING HEARING SINGING

[/size]

♏ Hold your light, Eleven ♏[/center][/color][/size][/font]

it took so long to realize that
you are the voice that's been calling me back home
[/font][/color][/blockquote]

Her eyes leave the world and grow distant, punctuated by quiet murmuring of the wind and the chirp of crickets. Xena goes to rise and bring back the girl made of glass, but her coherency returns so abruptly that it startles her.

"Yes." Xena's smile could light the heavens and her eyes seem to gleam, tightening her grip on her sword to the point of pain in order not to do anything rash. This version of her is timid in the ways that the original was not but it doesn't faze her, because in the barest of essences they are still the same person. She sees it when the move and speak, in the shine of their eyes and the twitch of their fingers. Even the bones are aligned in vaguely familiar ways, mapping constellations in the firmness of their skin. Xena remembers nights of holding her feverish hand and spinning stories of clouds so that she would drift into easier sleep, reflecting on the battles of gods and the way she held the quarterstaff so easily. "But... I need to ask you a question."

Anything her mind whispers but she keeps her mouth clamped shut and frozen in a content curl of lips, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. "Of course." She replies, shifting her weight to accomadate the girl's new stature as she bends down to her. Xena was never a guard so much as a best friend, and provided a guiding hand as Gabrielle learned how to stand on her own two feet. But it seems like this reincarnation requires a knight to guard her brilliance, and she will always be willing to aid her every call (her pride stays quiet at these thoughts, too overjoyed with her return to call protest).

She struggles with herself in the twitching of her lips and shifting of her brows, exposing the deep pools of blue to the moonlight. Xena is content to wait - she has waited so very long - and watches her features morph into determination. "Who are you?"

The warrior smiles sadly, understanding. Flashes of countless lives replay in her mind's eye and it shows that she didn't know every time, only following what her body told her and the strange nagging in her chest that she was meant to be near this person. At times Gabrielle approached her much as she's doing now, other times they collided upon accident. "I have had many names over many years, but you know me best as Xena." Something primordial in her hums its content, and she solidifies the feeling that this is who she truly is. All doubt flies from her mind, and she meets the tidal wave gaze with utmost confidence. "A long time ago, we were the best of friends. This was... lifetimes ago. Do you remember the grasslands of Amphipolis, my home, or the hills of Rome? Perhaps even the oceans that wound around our Greece?"

"I was - am - a warrior. They called me the Warrior Princess and I had an army. I conquered nations and killed many, many people. Just before I met you, I had sworn redemption; you helped me start towards karmic retribution." She licks her lips, wondering what else she should say. Xena remembers a conversation with the darsham that pushed hope into her heart as she took her last breath, promising Gabrielle they would meet again. Is it too soon?

She hesitates. No. If she was to bare all that she is to this girl that wears the face of the one she has been so closely tied to for eternity, she needs to know and no longer remain in shadow."We have lived many lives together under many guises. A prophet told us, once, that we would never be far apart. We have been sisters, best friends, rulers and lovers. Her term was... soulmates." Yes. It feels right, that quivering in her chest. Unable to resist the tugging in her navel any longer, she takes her left palm and swipes it deeply along the wicked edge of her drawn blade. There is pain, yes, but she barely feels it as a long line of scarlet blooms against her tanned skin. The oath lays heavily, pooling in her hand as she stretches it out towards the younger girl. The movement is so small, so familiar, that all the ghosts of other days rebound in her mind and fill her to bursting. "Even if you aren't Gabrielle in mind, you are part of her in spirit and she is part of you. A reincarnation. In your basest of essences, in yourself, can you feel it?" She smiles then, despite the sting of the gash along her flesh as it drips quietly to be soaked up by the grass.

"I will always know who you are because we are joined, but I still don't know your name. What do you call yourself now, my friend?"

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[OOC: If you're wondering, in ancient times they did something called a blood oath where they'd clasp bleeding palms because apparently it's the strongest bond that somebody could have. I figured that what Xena believes is accurate enough for her to offer that to Lia.]

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Last Edit: Sept 15, 2011 12:13:55 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen

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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 16, 2011 22:08:25 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Sept 16, 2011 22:08:25 GMT -5

. Lia . Veronica . Summarell .
Yeah, I'll reach up nice and far,
And dare to catch that shooting star.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

They tell me that I'm too stupid to see colors. They say that their world is so wonderful and beautiful, and full of things I can't even begin to understand. They say that there's more to the world than just black and white and gray- more than light and dark. They say that color is amazing, and that they feel sorry for me because I will never be able to understand it. And the thing is, I don't understand it. I can't wrap my mind around the idea that there might be more to my world than the shades I see. They talk about green and blue and purple and yellow, and how horrible it is that I can't see them. But the truth is, I don't care. I don't need to know about colors- they belong to a world different then mine.

Trying to wrap my mind about what she says is almost as hard as understanding colors, except this manages to intertwine with my life. The more she speaks, the more I feel like her nonsense words are wrapping around me, trapping me. I stare at her face because the look on her face is something that feels so familiar. Perhaps it is the similarity to Alana? Except she is more open and clearly confident. Alana simply radiated power- it was as if it was expected that people respected her.

When I see the blade begin to cut through her skin, my hand shoots forward to stop her. It is too late, however- the line fades from a brief pale grey to black and grows, rounding in her palm. I cringe sympathetically, and then look at her in confusion. How can I be anyone other than Lia? This... Gabrielle. She's not me. Is she? I feel like I should recgonize the name, or even the person. Even if I can't remember what she speaks of, shouldn't I at least feel something other than this? A name should trigger something, but she says several and I recognize one. She is so certain, though, as if she is explaining a lesson to me that I should already know (I know what that feels like. It's only happened a million times.) And how does she know that I am who she thinks I am? She must be insane. Sick, perhaps? She needs help. My help.

But part of me whispers that maybe I need her help just a little bit more.

"Lia," I say quietly, frowning slightly at the detectable uncertainty in my voice. I am Lia. I am not this Gabrielle that she speaks of. It's foolish of me to doubt who I am and what I am called because a stranger approaches me and tells me fantasy stories of lives that never happened. The life she speaks of isn't mine. I am Lia, the girl that they make fun of. The girl who can't see colors. The girl who's never been very smart. The girl who's lost her best friend. I repeat my name, clearer and stronger. "Lia Veronica Summarell." I want so badly to add on that I am not Gabrielle, more to prove it to myself than to her, but decide that I do not want to break her heart quite yet.

Xena. I long to say the name out loud, but part of me is afraid that it will feel familiar. That I'll suddenly remember a past that never happened. So I keep my mouth shut, though the odd name continues to echo around in my mind. It's funny, how I've managed to avoid reality for so long (because fantasy is always real, and reality never makes sense), but now this woman comes and speaks nonsense, and I find myself the most down to earth that I've been in a long, long time. But this reality isn't right- it's twisted into a ~~nightmare?~~ dream that I don't understand.

I look down at her hand uncertainly, and then back at her. "I... I don't understand. Why did you hurt yourself?"

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Last Edit: Sept 25, 2011 21:19:49 GMT -5 by Stare

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By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 22, 2011 10:55:13 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Sept 22, 2011 10:55:13 GMT -5

Xena of Amphipolis

BEING SPEAKING THINKING HEARING SINGING

[/size]

♏ I'll tell you what you already know ♏[/center][/color][/size][/font]

if I talk real slowly, if I try real hard
to make my point dear, that you have my heart.
here I go

[/font][/color][/blockquote]

Blood dribbles across her wrist and seeps down into the ground, waiting earth absorbing her promise with open mouths. Xena squeezes her hand into a fist and lets it spiral down, drawing whimsical patterns against the stained grass. Gabrielle (no, her mind whispers, she doesn't answer to that name any longer. She is Lia now Within her head, Xena realigns the letters with utmost care) looks stressed, watching the thick liquid be soaked up by the soft, damp ground. The warrior simply smiles and completes her tracing, hand opening and letting the still-running vitae run thick down her fingers. "It is to show my loyalty." she responds, voice deep from the aching throb that cuts viciously through her skin. When she presses her palm flat against the ground, she almost feels the hum of the earth from the countless people slumbering beneath them, unaware of the old magic taking place.

Reaching deep, the princess pulls all she remembers of ancient rites and sworn oaths from the back of her mind, fighting through thick cobwebs and brilliant battles that all run together. Sometimes she feels like a knight who has devoted everything he is to serving his master (and she has strange dreams and feelings of heavy plate and a glorious steed trampling through battlefields of gore, hearing a queen dressed in white whisper into her ear things of which she will follow without hesitation) but she is a warlord and will serve only herself, though crouched on one knee and head bowed, she isn't fooling herself anymore. Her life flows slowly into the already engorged ground and she shifts uncomfortably on her knees, scrounging up whatever she can recall of passages and pacts.

The words are quiet but ever so carefully growing in volume the faster she remembers, shuddering as a phantom tingle spreads from the gash in her palm. Others might try and erase what once was, but the traces of elder religion will always live on.

Mumblings of gods and ideas that are fuzzy but so very right to her spill forth, tangling together into a burbling stream that almost seems solid as she pours out her heart into the grass.

Xena waves her hand over the rough imitation of a circle before her and wonders absently if it will work. She has images of performing it so many times for people that all bear the vague resemblance to each other, but the outcome remains unknown. Her wound is beginning to slow but it still seeps stubbornly into the ground, staining the bare skin of her hand a sticky red.

With a final prayer it is done. Her chest buzzes and her head is light, but the warrior feels so very full with something she can't explain that banishes these minor complaints without thought.

Though she's barely been reunited it visibly pains her at the thought of being seperated once more, and Xena vows to herself that she will do whatever it takes to draw out the weariness that should not be painted on somebody so young. Some might call it foolish to pledge yourself so fully to somebody you've barely met, she knows and that is enough.

She blinks once, twice, and removes her hand from the ground. Not meeting Lia's eyes she stands on firm legs and stretches out to her full height, wincing slightly as the salt of her fingertips touch the ragged sides of her skin. Slightly dizzy but unwilling to show weakness, she carefully backsteps from the blades that still glitter a soft crimson and sheathes her own, reaching to her canvas backpack. Upon her travels she has found many bizzare things, and finds herself pulling out trinkets and baubels in order to find what she actually seeks. A wooden whistle, pamphlets from a Capitol play, a silver telescope. The last she places down with care, not wanting to scratch the lens and sully the image.

Xena wonders if the gods and goddesses of Olympus are looking down and guiding her, and she offers up her prayers despite the fact that she has slain gods, felt their immortal blood drain away as her arrows lodge deep and her blade strikes true. But that's what they are, immortal, and even though their bodies may perish they cannot cease to exist. Nothing ends until another begins, and she licks her lips anxiously at the remembrace of the virgin huntress, Artemis, falling under her barrage. Of betrayal and truth she is unsure, for she was their strongest champion and most difficult enemy. Even though it was loathe to come to pass, the gods knew that they could not escape Fate; it is everpresent and everknowing. The Twilight was to come to pass whether they wanted it or not and Archangel Michael coming to her was simply sealing their fates.

She is the Conquerer, the Godslayer, and yet she worries about simple things such as death and rebirth? Xena scoffs. They (Lia is included, she might not believe but the warrior sees it in the flash of her eyes) are living proof the no matter how hard God tried to erase all of the past, some things remain. Her home nestled in the outskirts of Greece calls to her, of ancient heroes and lore, but this strange new world has no room for any of that. She doubts that Amphipolis even still stands - if it does, it is no longer fit to be a home for anybody.

When the bandages touches her skin, she hisses. It brings about unpleasant memories of arrows and swords and multiple deaths only to be revived because Fate has still yet to believe her cause is finished. Not that she complains - Xena is ill-suited for the role of a spirit guardian. The world is something she can touch, taste, feel and not of demons and angels and flowing words that overlap into one another. She wraps it carefully around her palm, twining it together into an intricate pattern that binds her together once more before finally meeting Lia's gaze. For a moment she's caught in endless time and she clears the fog of her mind; countless nights of fireside conversations and fleeting moments reverberate loudly until she can't decipher reality from memory. Xena blinks and shakes her head, eyes drawn to the side when a nervous whicker comes from the shadows by the forest.

Apollo prances on the ground, hooves making soft whoomph noises in his distress. After weeks of nothing but forest and rivers, all these smells and noises hidden so deep beneath the earth must not sit well with him. The warrior walks carefully over to him, stroking his flank and threading her fingers through his mane. She hushes him with nonsense words and feeds him pieces of fruit she keeps in her bag, smiling when his muzzle tickles her fingers. It's all so very quaint that she loses herself for a moment, sword brushing carefully against her thigh and wind whispering of primordial ideals to the trees that always listen. As her knuckles graze his crude saddle, an idea sparks. Xena glances to Lia with a sly smile, leaning up against her steed and cocking her head back.

Yes, this will do perfectly.

She grasps his reins with her injured hand and guides him over to her, stopping a few feet away. The princess extends her other arm, fingers reaching out but not quite touching.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before, Lia?"

[OOC: Ugh, I don't know about this post. Next one will be better, I swear.]

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Last Edit: Sept 24, 2011 16:11:43 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen

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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Sept 26, 2011 16:38:36 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Sept 26, 2011 16:38:36 GMT -5

. Lia . Veronica . Summarell .

We will find friends who will protect us,
And we'll find them in the strangest places.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

My name is Lia. So you say. It is. I know it is. I've been Lia for as long as I can remember and longer. But her memory goes back even further than that, Gabrielle. No. Just because a hallucinating stranger comes out of the woods and tells me I'm Gabrielle doesn't mean anything. You gain nothing by lying to yourself. But I'm not lying to myself. It's true. I'm Gabri- I mean, I'm Lia. You are not as certain as you say you are. It doesn't matter. I'm confused. Confusion surfaces the most prominent things in our minds. We cling to what is true. What is true is that you are Gabrielle. No. I'm not Gabrielle. Xena believes you are. Xena's opinion does not matter. Just admit it. All your life, you've been a misfit. You have no idea who you are- other people tell you these things and you listen! Now, someone offers you an identity- a reason. Take it. I will never take what isn't mine. Alana told you your name was Lia, but she is gone. Xena says you are Gabrielle, and she is here. Xena came from far, far away because she knows. She knows who you are. It's time that you realize this. It's time you know the answer to the question you keep asking yourself. Who are you? I'm... I'm not sure. She's confusing me. You're confusing yourself. I'm Lia... right? Wrong. I'm Lia. No. You aren't. I have to be Lia. Who else could I be? You are now called Lia, but it is not your true name. Your true name is Gabrielle. Gabrielle? Yes. You are Gabrielle. And it will remain that way. Always and forever. I am Gabrielle.

<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I have no right to call her abnormal.

Perhaps the things she does and whispers are normal up here. And perhaps that is how people really dress. After all, how am I to know? Alana never told me of the people up here, except for that they could be very cruel. Really, I don't know much about the world up here (though I should). Perhaps this kind of attitude in a person is perfectly average. Maybe I'm the weirdo in this situation- having no idea what's happening, and looking blank and confused. As she begins to put bandages on (I can't help but notice how white they are), I remain silent, too confused to really say anything. Instead, I focus on the way the cool wind brushes against my face, and the endless sky above me. I have not yet adjusted to this foreign world, and while she has managed to momentarily distract me, I find myself once again drifting into wonder as I listen the the long branches of the mighty trees creaking back and forth in the whispering nighttime wind.

The long grasses bend over toward me like subjects bowing to their queen (why is it that this feels so natural, so real, so right?). I once again note the strange light the moon gives up, twisting my hand around and admiring the shifting shadows that creep forward and draw back on my palm. My eyes travel upward again, and I focus on the tiny lights that seem like small versions of the moon. I frown, because I feel as if I should know what they're called. Alana told me about them once. I turn back toward Xena, ready to ask her what they are, when I realize that she has moved away from me. I tilt my head to the side in curiosity. She moved as silently as a ghost, and now is whispering to something in the shadows that I can't quite see. Another person?

I take a quick step back, confused by the way that this possibility alarms me. Anything new out here alarms me, though- I have only seen this tiny portion of a world so large and, as Alana called it, amazing. I bite my bottom lip and try to focus on the thing in the shadows, for I now realize it's not a person- the shape is wrong. Suddenly, Xena's head turns back toward me, her eyes shining. I don't return her smile, but instead look at her cautiously and then eying the thing behind her. For an instant, there is only silence between us. An especially forcefully breeze whips my hair to one side, and makes the grass dance in ripples on the ground.

And then she leads the creature out of the shadows, and I gasp and stumble backward, falling on my backside with my elbows pressing into the earth. The grass is cool and somehow damp, leaving glittering droplets on my pale arms, but I am too shocked to notice. The creature is beautiful (white, my favorite color), but also terrifying. It towers above me, simply radiating power. And it walks on four legs instead of two, as Alana once told me many creatures do. She never told me they were this big, though, and I find that all I can day is sit there shaking as it advances, led by Xena.

A horse, she calls it. And one is supposed to... ride it? No, that can't be right. Why would anyone try to get on top of this beautiful yet dangerous animal? Yet, I feel the strange urge to try it- as if something amazing would happen if I did. So I slowly get to my feet, and take her hand, my voice trembling slightly as I respond. "No. No, I don't think I have."

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Last Edit: Sept 26, 2011 20:47:21 GMT -5 by Stare

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By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Oct 15, 2011 13:34:35 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Oct 15, 2011 13:34:35 GMT -5

Xena of Amphipolis

BEING SPEAKING THINKING HEARING SINGING

[/size]

♏ And the trapeze act was wonderful but never meant to last ♏[/center][/color][/size][/font]

so bright with cinder gray
and spray paint
who the hell can see forever?
[/font][/color][/blockquote]

"No? We'll have to change that, then."

And her world suddenly snaps into crystal focus when Lia takes her hand - a sign of utmost trust that sends shivers of pleasure down her spine - and places herself at the mercy of the beautiful creature. Apollo whickers quietly, dancing upon the damp grass in anticipation as the cool breeze plays primordial songs in his windswept mane. Xena smiles gently and helps the younger girl into the saddle, legs splayed awkwardly like one learning to ride a bike for the first time. It will take practiced patience but for as long as the warrior can remember, they have been teaching each other the most basic things in life. (Like love and happiness and simplistic ease that others strive decades to even taste.) For a moment she just breathes it all in; the way the moonlight fractures off Lia's halo of hair to make it gleam, the scared but awed glimmer to her eyes, how Apollo's hooves sound like distant drumbeats preparing for war. Smiling proud and true for the first time since remembering, she secures one foot in the saddle and hauls herself over with returning grace and steadfast confidence.

It hasn't come back to her quite yet, how to ride. Her muscles still strain in awkward positions and she's not quite relaxed atop her steed, but Xena is slowly learning the things she once knew so well. Hands, worn from the weeks of wielding the hilt like her greatest treasure, run along the horse's flanks and soothe the nervous tremor from his velvet skin with coaxing nails and soft words. When his prancing subsides she takes hold of the reins and digs her heels into his sides - gently, Lia wouldn't appreciate a gallop - so that his powerful limbs are spurred into a steady canter. The familiar feeling of moving and living return to her, so she loosens her shoulders and reaches behind to grasp Lia's forearm, tugging so that she holds onto the metal buckles of her backplate. The terrain is soft and rolling but the darkness hides crevices and boulders, treacherous dips and tucks that could send them both from atop their mount. Still, Xena surges forward with gently flowing hair and a smile that plays softly on the edges of her lips.

They pass countless trees and murmuring rivers, ducking under the grasping branches and flitting silently through the shadows. It amazes the warrior how such a beautiful land could hold such awful things; even in her homeland of Greece, the people were more friendly. As if they had more to lose. The few cities she has passed and those that echo in her thoughts are dense and dirty. Fences seperate them from the natural world and cage them within themselves - the rulers are tyrants to the ones with less to their name. Why torment the peasants that want nothing more than to live peacefully inside their enclosures? She has begun to think of them as sheep. Easily herded, easily controlled. Content with what they are given until it is taken away.

The terrain turns steeper and the climb more difficult. Xena urges him on with soft words and taut thighs, unconsciously reaching back with one hand to ensure Lia remains stable. Old habits die hard she muses quietly, swiping away grasping branches that trail like wizened fingers through her hair. When the trees thin out and Apollo slows to nothing more than a slow trot, Xena stretches out and pulls him to a gentle stop. The stars flicker overhead and the moon casts a dull glow upon the oceans of grass laid out before them, a midnight sky reaching as far as she can see. From their perch it feels like the world is sprawled out before them in rolling hills and countless treetops, splashed brightly with the incandescence of a crescent moon. "This is the world, Lia." She smiles, dropping down from the saddle and holding out her palm for the younger girl to take. Her scabbard touches against her thigh and her armor clinks quietly into the night air; for the first time in months, she feels at ease. Right. "You used to walk it like it was your own. And it can be again."

[/blockquote][/color]

Last Edit: Oct 15, 2011 13:35:52 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen

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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Oct 20, 2011 22:01:26 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Oct 20, 2011 22:01:26 GMT -5

❀ Lia ❀ Veronica ❀
❀ Summarell ❀

Why am I so afraid
To crush down and lose my heart again?
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

Friendship is a feeling.

It's been such a long time that I hardly recognize it as the warmth blooms in my chest like a beautiful flower finally opening it's petals to the sun's golden rays. Most friendships are developed over time, yet I instantly feel like I am safe as she helps me onto the thing that looks somewhat like a seat that rests on the horse's back. I suppose it isn't so hard to believe- if what Xena says is true (and I'm still not entirely sure it is), than our friendship has had millenia to flourish as each others' personalities become as familiar as the backs of our hands. I suppose that as we force ourselves through the difficulties of life, we intertwine together closer and closer until not even time can keep us apart.

As soon as the hose begins to move, I grip onto her for dear life- I'm sure that this is hardly fast in her opinion, but to a girl who has never rode anything before in her life, this is light speed. A scream forms in my throat but does not exit because though this is terrifying, it is also thrilling. The world around me opens up in a way that it never can in paintings- it becomes alive and so real that it's overwhelming. The air smells so clear and clean and my lungs open up and fill my body with life and suddenly I understand why Alana loved it so much up here. The stars are scattered above us like tiny water droplets glittering against almost black. I don't think I'll ever truly understand just how big the world is. A few damp leaves brush my arm, cold and soft. Is this what it would be like if I could see color? Every new object a wonder because none of this was real before? The horse's pale mane flutters as the air combs through individual strands of glimmering almost white. I can feel its muscles moving and try so hard to relax and move with it, but find that I cannot release my tight grip on Xena or force my stiff legs to become loose. Yet, despite my fear, if I had the option to ride behind Xena, seeing the wonders of the world for all eternity... well, I'd take it in a heartbeat.

Because I am slowly realizing that I have never truly seen until now.

And I'm not entirely terrified- something in the way Xena continues to reach back and make sure that I am still safe makes me feel a bit more comfortable. Even though I am a stranger in this stranger's land, she makes me feel as if I somehow belong. Maybe it's just how she cares in a way that no one has cared in such a long time. Alana cared, but now she is gone. My parents are too tired and busy and far away to care, although I will say that they try their very hardest. And everyone else... well, they don't even attempt to care. Even those who do not make fun of me never really attempt to form friendships. I will admit, there are others who are nice enough, like my music teacher, who's eyes always shine when I sing. But even he makes few attempts to care. I suppose I have been spoiled with love, for now I expect people to give it to me selflessly- a wish that will never come true, no matter how many stars I wish on tonight. But Xena is here and she treats me as if I matter. As if I deserve this kind of care and gentle consideration (I don't, as those back in District Thirteen constantly remind me).

The wind whistles against my my ice cold ears as we ride, and when we have finally reach our destination, I can only stare as a whispering breeze makes my locks tremble. Ripples move the grass so that it looks almost exactly like the paintings of things called oceans that I have seen- it would look exactly the same it it weren't for the texture. The sky is so vast that I feel as if I could fly up, up, up, and never reach an end. In the underground district, there are walls that keep us confined and and ceilings that keep us small, just as they want us- we do what we say without hesitation, and those who don't (such as myself) are strictly ignored by anyone in authority and mocked by all others. I've always been different because my mind, though lacking facts and equations, spreads out over miles and miles of imaginary lands and impossible skies and maybe, hidden underneath it all, colors. Yet to them, my beautiful work of art is sloppy and transparent, falling apart at the seams. But this... this scene makes my imagination suddenly solid and real and I wish so badly to just reach out and touch the physical form of my mind. Yet, I am also fearful that it will dissolve at my touch and I will gasp awake in my hard, uncomfortable bed.

She reaches out across centuries to take my hand, and I gaze at it in slight hesitation before finally slipping delicate, thin fingers into her strong hand and leaping down from what, to me, is a rather large height. Dust clouds upward around my feet when I hit the ground, and I straighten up quickly. "Alana always told me that the outside was beautiful," I whisper, staring at the scene before me in awe. "But I never thought... it feels as if this can't be real. As if this is some wonderful dream, but when I wake, it won't be here anymore. You won't be here anymore. And I'll... I'll be lost again."

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Last Edit: Oct 25, 2011 21:13:13 GMT -5 by Stare

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By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Oct 22, 2011 15:48:17 GMT -5

Post by sadniss everdeen on Oct 22, 2011 15:48:17 GMT -5

Xena of Amphipolis

BEING SPEAKING THINKING HEARING SINGING

[/size]

♏ and the soles of our shoes are all worn down ♏[/center][/color][/size][/font]

you and me
we've seen everything to see
from bangkok to calgary
[/font][/color][/blockquote]

"I'm as real as you want me to be."

The leaves sway with her hair and she smiles, glancing upwards at the sky that has been ripped open by the claws of celestial gods, scattering the lights of a million dying suns. Perhaps one day her path will take her far above and beyond into another plain entirely - things she would have never dreamed of have appeared as common, whimsical things in this lifetime. How many times has she breathed for this to appear?

Her and Gabrielle had never talked about mortality or death because they'd breached that divide so many times that it became trivial and unimportant. Time and space were their playground and even though it hurt so much to say goodbye, there was always the knowledge that hello waited around the corner.

"Xena, don't you dare leave me!" Frantic hands to press against pale skin, unresponsive eyes glaring out blankly into the void. What was she seeing? Gabrielle didn't know but didn't want to know, tangling her fingers in wild raven hair as she shook the body that remained immobile and limp. She understood the need for the warrior to go, searching to defeat the one enemy that had always remained out of her reach. But that didn't mean that she couldn't come back! If she knew that Xena's last breath would have been when she was letting her blood run thick over that altar, there would have been so many things she'd done differently. But the warrior had always been stubborn to a fault, and no matter the pleading, she had collapsed with the promise to return.

And she never, never broke her promises. (Except this time she did.)

The crimson was beginning to slow, rolling down the slick expanse of her leather garb to soak into the grass below. Gabrielle brushed her bangs back from her pale face with stained hands, cradling the larger body in her lap. Her skin was still warm and tingling with remnants of life in stark constrast to the biting winter chill atop the frosted hills of Greece. A few paces away, Naima gives a sad smile as she watches the smaller form come to terms with the vessel lacking the soul it once had. She will learn like the others that death isn't the end. The darsham has the word on the tip of her tongue (soulmates) but knows that the Amazon Queen will not hear her through her grief and simply watches as a shimmering cloud descends upon Gabrielle with almost tender care. Her head shoots up at the whisper of her name though Naima remains silent as a wraith.

Don't cry. This isn't the end. And looking at the body whose lips have somehow curled into a gentle smile, sorrow is lifted from her shoulders as if it is a palpable thing. Maybe she's right. There are many more lifetimes than just this one.

Xena shakes her head to rid herself of the memories that clash and collide against one another until they all slur into one continuous loop and instead trots out to the edge of the cliff. Letting her feet dangle down, she lays on her back and lets the hardships of the past months roll off her skin like grime. The world has suddenly aligned and appears brighter, better. She will not feel grief for many years to come. "The world never moves, you know. It will always be here." A smirk. "Though sometimes the way you moved made me think otherwise; like you could just snap your fingers and mountains would turn into rubble." The warrior sees the way this new incarnation moves; careful, cautious. Like there is something waiting around the corner that will rise up just to throw her back down. Even if it will take her years, she'll give her back the gait that used to defy the expectations of reality.

A flash of brilliance catches her eye and she grins, finger tracing a pattern in the stars. "Look, Lia!" she murmurs, cupping a palm as if to dip her hands in the fabric of the ether and drink from everlasting radiance. "Do you know what that is?" Xena chases the tail of the comet with her nails, reaching over to grab it just as another one appears. They flash and reflect in the younger girl's eyes and the warrior has to wonder why she'd ever go back to the underground with the lifeless walls so cut off from the sun. If she'd will it, Xena would take her so far away from this place that it would never taint her tongue again. She'd do so much that it would've scared her a long, long time ago (where your name meant something on the breath of strangers, Xena. You are nobody now)

[/i] but she's long grown used to the realization that what she used to know doesn't take shape in this new world.

Stretching out on the long grass, she unhooks the scabbard from her waist and places it carefully away from the edge, folding arms behind her head to watch the heavens explode in an array of searing yellows and reds. They paint her in colours she never knew she needed, violent brights and darks that give her feeling in the endless night. "I'll be your map, if you'd like. That way you won't get lost again."

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Last Edit: Oct 22, 2011 15:49:44 GMT -5 by sadniss everdeen

Stare
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and i will hold you tight / like the moon in the arms of the sky

By the Light of the Moon (Chaos) Oct 29, 2011 12:23:19 GMT -5

Post by Stare on Oct 29, 2011 12:23:19 GMT -5

❀ Lia ❀ Veronica ❀
❀ Summarell ❀

It's been so long, I can't even feel.
Can't even hope.
Can't even dream.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>

I shake my head slightly, tumbling hair swishing back and forth as I do so. The wind sings an ariose lullaby of the sweetest tune, yet in a language I have yet to understand. There are so many mysteries in this wide, wild world that is large and growing and alive. The riddles of time and space have yet to be deciphered, and now that the horrible walls put into place by the underground district have finally been torn down, who would dare try to stop me? And yet, I find myself cowering away from foreign things such as friendship and caring, because it's been so long. It seems like she is selflessly handing me her entire world, and yet I have nothing to give to her in return. I can do nothing but watch as she pulls the wonders of the world out of the earth and lets them sigh into me, sinking into a heart that has lacked proper nourishment for many years.

Lack of love mixed with the strict laws of the Wonderland district have worn me down, turning me into a child of glass. Simple ghosts of emotion swirl around inside of me, reflected in my eyes. I'm too distant to reach- the small handful who have tried ended up grasping translucent feelings and endless nothing. I have never been popular or even respected (face it, child. You are neither bright nor bold, and so you deserve to be tossed aside as a broken toy). She speaks of pouring liquid light into me, this mysterious thing called life that has evaded my grasp for many years now. But once I am all filled in and brought back from my graveyard, will things really have changed? Will I have changed? I was a scared little girl when Alana stood guard in front of me, so will I be little more now that Xena offers to do the same? "...but I'm not worth it, Xena. I'm not worth your effort or time or friendship, especially when I have nothing to give you in return."

The District Thirteen citizens (particularly my teachers, with the exception of Mr. Music Teacher) are constantly reminding me of how worthless I am. I am stupid and I am helpless and I am hopeless- an imagination will do me no good if it is not accompanied by a good, strong brain that can do pointless things such as multiply and divide letters or learn of our dull history. While others seem fascinated by the crimson horrors that stain our innocent textbooks, I have always thought of war as quite pointless and rather disgusting. Guns? Attacks? What about the elegant sword on sword battles with daring warriors and beautiful women waiting to be rescued? What about the brave acts of love and those who twist and suffer but always win because peace and happiness will always prevail?

They tell me to step out of my dreamland and face reality like a true warrior. Who am I to deny the fact that I am a weakling and always have been if so many people say it is so? Why would they lie about such a thing, anyway? I gaze in the mirror and see a lost cause- a girl that maybe, once, was worth rescuing but is now so lost that she is hardly recognizable. Mother's cracked, dusty mirror distorts my face slightly, and I like that. It flaws a normal picture, just like reality flaws my careful created fairyland. Perhaps it is time to give up on my childish imaginings, but Alana told me that they are my life preservers in the wild sea of District Thirteen (gray, dull, and filled with rules), and I should hand onto them for dear life. Alana was so wise and so complicated, far more so than those who live in our district, and so I follow her words until the end of time because she knew what they never could.

Her hand shoots skyward quite suddenly, and my eyes dart upward to follow a pointed finger. For a moment, I see no change. The sky flows onward forever and that eternal beauty will always captivate me (they say that simple things entertain me because I'm stupid, but I think simplicity in itself is far more beautiful than the horrid complications of life). And then I see it. Among the sea of dark and it's twinkling exceptions, there is a sudden streak of light, and I give a gasp, nearly backpedaling right into the horse. Wide eyes reflect more and more whispers of white against my beautiful land of forever near-black, and my mouth drops open in shock and fear as the color drains out of an already pale face. They must be the stars, and I turn my head toward Xena, the very picture of relaxation. The sky is falling before our very eyes and yet she remains completely calm, watching it as if it is a beautiful light show.

"Xena!" I yelp, pointing upward. "Xena, the sky is falling!"

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