A Swann's Song - OOC Requiem Tales For your Entertainment.
Well, It's been some time now since the night of the Riots, and our young Daeva is finally realizing what it means to belong to the Night, and play the Danse Macabre. Changes are coming, it is certain, but will the Rose Deliah Swann wither in the lifeless dark, or bloom from her sepals to become a true flower of Thorns?
Ritual 3: Warrior Hide
The dripping of the faucet punctuates the seconds in my memory, binding me to this world.
I would be elsewhere than here, in this darkened loneliness.
The city is smothered in an iron grip, and I..
..I have done nothing to stop it.. have I?
I am a fool
The silver sheen of the keen blade glints in the moonlight, and memories slink in like spirits, unbidden.
Moving.. drawn..in the vicinity of the gallery.
The side of claw-footed bath resting against my spine is a cool solace tonight. In my place of opulence, I am alone. Much like my current existence. Thoughts return to that night. A mystery than remains unsolved.
What had he been like, the one who took my life? Wherefore had he taken -without question, without permission -that which was not his, and, having taken it, left it, discarded it again, like a child who, having finally acquired the much-longed for bauble, casts it aside to the gutter, unloved?
Steel softly kissed the silken bar before me, and I bid the river run.
He moves toward me. I cannot see his face. He takes me away from the Chaos ..Afraid for me? I was not afraid.. My lips murmur the unspoken question. It was too soon. Unplanned. Interrupted. His head lowers.
Soft words. Pain.
I had not flown for my life when it mattered.. Why did I now?
A glint of sliver. A ribbon of red.
Darkness. A volley of emotions.. Rapture. Desolation.. A desperate scrabbling to hold sand that slid through my fingers.. The sand that was my life's essence in metaphor.
A metallic sting. The smell of iron in the air.
Mist that covers my eyes dissipates momentarily, and I perceive the scene for what it is. The sodden carpet on the tile, waterfalls that had been the filling bathtub. A flickering lamp and shaking hands.
Odd. I had not resorted to such behavior since my adolescence.
The knife wavers over the now-shredded limb.
And stops.
Lowers.
Coward. Running again.
**No! I am NOT afraid!**
A mania, sweet and wild, almost forgotten, screeches out in rebellion.. A strong Lineage will not be smothered by my melancholia. In time, I will conquer.
The blade dances and twirls in the light.
Line after line, stream after stream, the runic pattern snakes up my limb, encompassing it's twin, engraving defiance for all to see.
No more. Fight this.. Hiding from the dark are the Ways of a child. Strength. Passion. Will.. I must beat my fear.. Honor. Resolve.. Sacrifice.. Nobility.. My shield.
A Dull scraping noise. The blade can cut no more.
**.. what?**
The flesh resists the flaying kiss, lying clean and unbroken. The once-crimson pools are clear. Symbols of the Goddess sit, shining white and scar-like upon me. A fluctuation of light in the corner of my eye flicks my head up to the glass, where the image of a face with the briefest of smiles now fades.
A woman, all knowing, with hair of frost and eyes like ice.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Ritual 3: Warrior Hide
The dripping of the faucet punctuates the seconds in my memory, binding me to this world.
I would be elsewhere than here, in this darkened loneliness.
The city is smothered in an iron grip, and I..
..I have done nothing to stop it.. have I?
I am a fool
The silver sheen of the keen blade glints in the moonlight, and memories slink in like spirits, unbidden.
Moving.. drawn..in the vicinity of the gallery.
The side of claw-footed bath resting against my spine is a cool solace tonight. In my place of opulence, I am alone. Much like my current existence. Thoughts return to that night. A mystery than remains unsolved.
What had he been like, the one who took my life? Wherefore had he taken -without question, without permission -that which was not his, and, having taken it, left it, discarded it again, like a child who, having finally acquired the much-longed for bauble, casts it aside to the gutter, unloved?
Steel softly kissed the silken bar before me, and I bid the river run.
He moves toward me. I cannot see his face. He takes me away from the Chaos ..Afraid for me? I was not afraid.. My lips murmur the unspoken question. It was too soon. Unplanned. Interrupted. His head lowers.
Soft words. Pain.
I had not flown for my life when it mattered.. Why did I now?
A glint of sliver. A ribbon of red.
Darkness. A volley of emotions.. Rapture. Desolation.. A desperate scrabbling to hold sand that slid through my fingers.. The sand that was my life's essence in metaphor.
A metallic sting. The smell of iron in the air.
Mist that covers my eyes dissipates momentarily, and I perceive the scene for what it is. The sodden carpet on the tile, waterfalls that had been the filling bathtub. A flickering lamp and shaking hands.
Odd. I had not resorted to such behavior since my adolescence.
The knife wavers over the now-shredded limb.
And stops.
Lowers.
Coward. Running again.
**No! I am NOT afraid!**
A mania, sweet and wild, almost forgotten, screeches out in rebellion.. A strong Lineage will not be smothered by my melancholia. In time, I will conquer.
The blade dances and twirls in the light.
Line after line, stream after stream, the runic pattern snakes up my limb, encompassing it's twin, engraving defiance for all to see.
No more. Fight this.. Hiding from the dark are the Ways of a child. Strength. Passion. Will.. I must beat my fear.. Honor. Resolve.. Sacrifice.. Nobility.. My shield.
A Dull scraping noise. The blade can cut no more.
**.. what?**
The flesh resists the flaying kiss, lying clean and unbroken. The once-crimson pools are clear. Symbols of the Goddess sit, shining white and scar-like upon me. A fluctuation of light in the corner of my eye flicks my head up to the glass, where the image of a face with the briefest of smiles now fades.
A woman, all knowing, with hair of frost and eyes like ice.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~