#ed1717
1
0
1
Sept 9, 2017 19:51:41 GMT
5
Lev
191
August 2015
admin
|
Post by Lev on Jun 26, 2016 18:33:09 GMT
What is a soul? Is it a creation of the mind, like the feeling of bright light swelling in our bones when we catch the sight of a lover? An illusion that justifies the strangeness of a smitten gasp, or carelessness of a free fall? Perhaps it exists as a song; it weaves through space and time, invisible notes spurring emotions and impressing memory as real as the goosepimples they leave on our perishable skins. Or is it tangible? Does it live and breathe as a slave to mortal vessels, doomed to die when our fragile hearts see it time to stop beating? Theolandra pondered these things at the base of the temple stairs as her thin fingers roamed across the organic shape of the dull stone. Its color - a familiar shade of muted blue steel - had plagued her curiosity since the odd thing came into her possession. More than that, it pulled at her attention with a sentient power, a voice that transcended dreams or senses.
Before Theolandra came upon the curious rock, it had been in the investigative hands of Alterno Beel for near a month, with most of that time spent gathering dust during the recovery of the palace's most recent upheaval. Timore's siege struck a deep blow to morale and progress. But an inspiring hunger for understanding drove Alberto deeper into his studies than he had been in years. She wasn't sure if it was simple oversight or the possibility that she could find an answer, but when Theolandra appealed to his giving nature during her visit on that late summer morning, Alberto willingly surrendered the peculiar thing to her own study. His only caution was an unexplained tune that oft tricked his ears when the stone was nearby. The queen heard no tunes. A fortnight passed and the only thing Theolandra could hear was a voice, one voice, over and over during the night that drew her from her bed and to the door. Time after time she would check for a visitor that was not there, and listen at the walls for a sound that was always too far away to hear...
It was just a possibility. In theory it might work. If there were a living thing trapped inside of the stone she might have the ability to draw it out or communicate with it. Guilt was stopping her, planting her bare feet to the cool rock outside of the empty temple. Arthur was the only one she had ever stripped down to bare essence, witnessed in the plane of raw unfiltered spirit, and been seen the same. It felt wrong to even consider performing the ritual with another person. The shame of it estranged her from the holy ground... until now. One deep breath loosened the roots and lifted her up the steps to Sympati's Well.
It was comfortable in the shade, but the cover of the arched temple housed a coolness that was ahead of the autumn season. A wintry chill had settled inside. The tile floor had an untouched glossy sheen like the surface of frozen water, and Theolandra stepped lightly across it. A bitter-sweet pang stung her eyes.
"Hello, Arthur," she mumbled mournfully under her breath, absentmindedly clutching the blue rock closer beneath her breast. She cleared her throat and paused a moment before starting again, trying to push painful memories away from her current objective. "I call to my Fathers, their almighty hands guide me with strength unmeasured. May my Mothers enlighten me. I am blessed with their knowledge, and shape her children with their love and wisdom."
It was a possibility. In theory it might work. A soul could be as attainable as an idea.. It could be as reachable as a handshake, an embrace; so she tried. Theolanra let loose her warmth within the frigid shelter. Her form melted away like snow under the glare of Summer sun, and for a time everything was swallowed by an all consuming light.
|
|
#2007f0
3
0
1
Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
3
Dymion
129
Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
|
Post by Dymion on Jun 29, 2016 18:04:06 GMT
Light, pure and simple, filled the small room of the open temple, cascading in rivers of energy as a powerful filled the space with a warmth few could understand. Only one had experienced this moment in its fullest beauty, and so it would remain as Theolandra tapped into the raw energy and spirit that had resided, hibernating, within the core. As light and wonder filled the strupture, so too did it fill the small blue toned sphere. Then, the soul trapped deep inside awoke.
Its concious existed first as a surge of energy, the power trapped within exploding outwards as the warm light grew to seemingly envelop the temple. Tones shifted within, and in mere moments, the once pure, white light was now filled with constantly shifting colors: red, blue, green, brown, yellow, silver, all existing in multiple shades and variants as they swarmed on the light's surface. Then, from the edges of the cursed core, the dark magics that had sealed the essence inside was blasted away, the resulting detonation creating a pulse that cascaded through the Waters of the World while the bursting presence of the the freed being began to reign itself in, the raw spiritual energy of it and Theolandra returning to the way it was before the individual had awoken.
For the queen, it was undoubtedly a new experience, but there would be a taste of familiarity within it all: The true identity of the trapped soul would be revealed to her: Arthur Midas, former Guardian to Etirath.
|
|
#ed1717
1
0
1
Sept 9, 2017 19:51:41 GMT
5
Lev
191
August 2015
admin
|
Post by Lev on Jun 29, 2016 23:00:11 GMT
Warm. Inviting. Skin dissolves, and bones float away like feathers on a wave. Come out. I see you; I feel you there. Meet me at creation and let me see You. Theolandra coaxed the soulful presence patiently, dangling a lure of hospitality at the edge of detection where it lingered. She projected her aura forward, navigating through the amorphous plane like a child under sun-drenched bed sheets of white and gold. Then a rainbow of color boomed forth from the second being. Moods and shades of character swirled around the two, encircling them in an orb of vibrant illustrations, gaining heat under the brilliance of the burning colors. Gold, silver, red, green- a gorgeous emerald straight from the mossy belly of the forest floor. Blue streaks that matched the dull steel of the stone. She knew these colors. Kindred feelings made the air buzz with a pins and needles.. but before Theolandra could chase them an odious magic began to bleed into the hues like poison through blood. The sickly ink blotches started to spread across the pure canvas.
Chains that bind you, Theolandra thought and spoke at once. Be free of them.
The godchild called upon her ancient power and exploded like a flash of white hot lightning. Its force eradicated the devilish magic and violently expelled Theolandra and the spirit from the heavenly plane. It felt like falling out of a dream; one moment wandering in weightlessness above yourself, and the next jerking straight into consciousness.. Unexpected.
She could hear the ruffled clapping of water outside. The relaxed pools echoing their frustrations over the sudden blast that riled them. There was also a thing slicing sound of shuffling parchment that snapped Theolandra's heavy, blurry eyes to attention. First a stone and now a book? It was lying open a few inches in front of her, lazily licking the soft gusts of wind with the edge of its pages. She reached out to close it, propping herself up with her other elbow and straining to read the title as it came into focus. Correction of Pottery? Correlation of- Poetry. Collection of Poetry!
"I lost my book," she croaked softly.
Her throat was seized by an iron grip, breath caught behind closed lips and building in her chest until it was forced rapidly from her nostrils like midnight bellows. For those few stretched moments she dared not to move. Every ounce of hope for his return was matched by a cup dread. If she turned to look for him and found an empty room..
"Arthur," she called out. "Arthur Midas.."
|
|
#2007f0
3
0
1
Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
3
Dymion
129
Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
|
Post by Dymion on Jun 29, 2016 23:48:52 GMT
Life, vibrant and powerful, coursed through veins formed from once throttled energies, and with a sudden gasp, cool air was plunged into lungs that had formed only mere moments ago. A brief pause, and eyelids snapped open to reveal a world of colors and shapes, a peaceful scene to one who'd been locked away in the darkness. Another breath, this time releasing the trapoed air, and vibrant, emerald irises began to focus, feeling spreading through the newfound figure as muscles and nerves awakened throughout. He was on his knees, forearms placed firmly on the temple's floor as eyes took in the light that played off the stone, reveling in the sense of freedom that pervaded him. Fingers flexed, clenching into fists, and he inhaled, the motions becoming a pattern as he learned to breathe again. Eyes shut, then opened, and the semblance of a heart pulsed within, the prison that once held him pumping with his new life.
At first, he was petrified; his mind didn't want to work, to process the world around him. But in the pit of his stomach, a resolve began to grow, and for what felt like the first time, his muscles bent to his will, pushing up and away from the stone as he sat back, his body seemingly weak, until finally, he knelt in the open temple, eyes taking in what was before him. A work of stone, crafted by artists of some unknown form, lay out before him, perched in a true oasis of life. The trees rustled in the wind, cool, blue water lapped at the earth, and the scents of bountiful flowers pervaded the air. But none of these caught his attention as much as her, his ragged breating quiet as he tried to make sense of the space.
"Arthur, Arthur Midas.."
As her voice broke the steady silence, all thought and consciousness he could reign over came to one, poignant, solitary memory. He knew her. His head, empty of all memory except for the ways of speech, writing, and thought, remembered her. Theolandra, Queen, friend, possibly more, existed in the recesses of his mind, and now lay on the floor of the temple. Finding strength tof stand, he found himself moving, one silent step after another, towards Theolandra, and a rush of worry flooded his heart and mind, unsure of her state and what had caused it. Only a mere foot away, he knelt, a book between him and her, and with his left knee on the ground, and his right foot supporting him, he reached out towards her hand, his concern etched upon his face.
"Milady, are you alright?"
|
|
#ed1717
1
0
1
Sept 9, 2017 19:51:41 GMT
5
Lev
191
August 2015
admin
|
Post by Lev on Jul 1, 2016 6:46:34 GMT
His voice was like night owls and pine. It took her to the forest under moonlight, drifting in the sights and sounds of a secret world that bloomed in shadows. It drenched her in forgotten life like raindrops on brittle grass.. and it was clear then that without his sweet water, the fragrance of his drink, or the trickling sound of his voice- she would always be thirsty. The sound of him was overwhelming. The sight of him made Theolandra implode, curling over her lap into a weeping mess of joy and disbelief. Thin pale fingers covered her face for fear of letting in the light that might expose the moment as an illusion. Then his large hand reached for hers, and she wished for a chance to change her emotional appearance into something elegant like the woman - the queen - he remembered. After hastily wiping her eyes with the end of her sleeve, she lifted her chin to meet Arthur's eyes. Icy jewels in red pools locked with blue steel. It was him. Even through clouded vision she knew for sure.
"Udel take pity on me," Theolandra sniveled. "This must be a dream. You were d-," she looked away and swallowed a painful lump in her throat. The memory of his lifeless form was still fresh in her mind. "I saw you on the pyre," she started again, speaking mostly to herself in an attempt to organize her thoughts. Then she met his gaze again.
Was it instinct or impulse that guided her hand to his cheek? Confirmation or craving that tangled it in the bangs of his thick dark hair? She leaned forward on her knees, shivering a bit but staring at him with an unwavering expression. With a clearer voice she spoke again.
"How can I know it's really you? How do I know you're the same Arthur Midas and not-" Dark magic, she thought to herself. "Something else.."
|
|
#2007f0
3
0
1
Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
3
Dymion
129
Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
|
Post by Dymion on Jul 6, 2016 2:55:32 GMT
"Udel take pity on me. This must be a dream. You were d-,"
Theolandra's reaction was enough to answer the question he'd asked, thoughthe young man doubted her words had been addressed towards his concerned, searching, thoughts. A moment of hesitation seemed to wash over her, and he could feel his concern grow, her head turning away as he leaned in, trying to catch her gaze and let her know it was alright. His hand still extended, waiting, he hoped to comfort her, hoped to help her navigate the myriad of emotions that plagued her, unable to be expressed in clear, calm sentences. He cared deeply for Theolandra, and the queen's cracked voice evoked within him a want to help her through whatever she faced, for better or-
"I saw you on the pyre,"
The air in his throat seemed to catch, her words causing a sense of shock that washed over him like the waters of a northern ravine. She'd seen him, dead. That was what she had meant to say. Her shock, her calamity, her collection of inexpressible emotion was due to him, a ghost in her eyes, once void of life, now filled with blood and thought and... Her eyes turned to meet his, and now, understanding would fill his gaze, his body leaning forward as he allowed her to think, to act, to assure. She reached out, her hand slipping past his own until it met the skin of his cheek, a chill flying through his spine while his heart and body allowed emotion of its own to pulse through his veins. He now knew; he cared deeply for her. Warmth spread from her touch, her soft fingers slipping through locks of his hair, and he allowed his neck to tilt, head leaning into her hand, as he blinked, slowly, calmly. He focused again on her eyes, and could see the rising question, knew the assurance she desired.
"How can I know it's really you? How do I know you're the same Arthur Midas and not... something else.."
The question seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, Arthur, as he guessed he was called, struggled to find an answer. He could remember nothing, except for the existence of his queen in the life he'did lead before. Pain passed in his eyes, as he feared he could not assuage her fear, and in that moment a shift occured, the color in his eyes shifting away as a deeper, more sapphiric hue took the place of his steel blue irises. He allowed his lips to open, and anot her moment of hesitation passed, his hand subconsciously reaching up to gently touch hers. Finally, words formed, and as they left, his voice was soft, hesitant to deliver the unfortunate news.
"I-I don't know."
|
|
#ed1717
1
0
1
Sept 9, 2017 19:51:41 GMT
5
Lev
191
August 2015
admin
|
Post by Lev on Jul 8, 2016 7:03:54 GMT
Theolandra watched the blue waters of Arthur's eyes shift and swirl to a hue as dark and alive as the sky before a storm, awestruck by the familiar comfort of their handsome gaze. He never knew what he could do to her with a simple stare. Even then, the way he pressed his cheek so willingly into her hand, the feel of his warm hand laid on top of her trembling fingers.. He was pulling the heartstrings attached to her dreams in a way that seemed too good to be true. Theolandra desperately wanted to believe it was Arthur- the true Arthur. She shifted her position on the floor, tucking her legs underneath her to sit level with the reborn man. Her hand never broke contact with his skin. Instead, both palms wrapped themselves around the back of his neck in the thick tufts of his hair. They gripped two handfuls gently, but with a sense of sudden urgency.
"Tell me my name," she demanded. "What is my name?" The quiver in her voice betrayed the show of confidence in her plan. If he could answer her questions he could prove the truth of his identity, and then she could know for sure! Then she could.. but perhaps her name was too easy? So many people knew her person. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility, a copycat spirit having the correct answer. So she added, "And- and tell me something only I would know, only you could know. Prove it to me.. prove that you're him." She bit her bottom lip to stop herself from begging, from whimpering under the building pressure in her tense muscles. It was certainly going to appear unbecoming if she rambled on, so she waited, trying to keep her imagine as queen and composed leader from crumbling in his presence.
|
|
#2007f0
3
0
1
Apr 22, 2020 19:54:15 GMT
3
Dymion
129
Aug 13, 2015 23:35:49 GMT
August 2015
dymion
|
Post by Dymion on Jul 11, 2016 1:58:03 GMT
When Theolandra shifted, her legs moving under her, Arthur awaited in silence, the queen's slight movement seeming to bring her closer while her hands, her light, cool hands, shifted through his hair, reaching the back of his head while her icy irises met with his. His hand, however, remained still as her skin brushed by, until, as she gripped his hair, his other hand reached up, both lightly wrapping around her wrists. He wasn't sure how to respond to her movements, and an awkward sensation formed in his chest, his gaze searching for some sign, any sign, of what she wanted, expected, from him.
"Tell me my name. What is my name?" Arthur passed for a brief moment, his lips parting as he prepared to speak to his queen, but before he could, she spoke yet again, her tone echoing some sliver of the search he was facing within. "And- and tell me something only I would know, only you could know. Prove it to me.. prove that you're him."
She wanted to be sure... So did he, and as she watched him closely, Arthur allowed his eyes to close, searching his own mind for the memories he had. There was something there she needed, something she wanted, and if he thought hard enough, dug deep enough, he could find it. He couldid prove who he was. He was Arthur... Arthur Midas.
Eyes opening, he gazed into hers, a small smile spreading as he spoke to her softly, carefully...
"Theolandra... at night, before you close your eyes, you sing a lullaby to yourself, and in the morning, you love to walk into the garden, where you find your favorite flowers near the entrance, orange tulips. " He took a breath, the silence weighing heavily as he continued to watch her. There was an intensity in the air, and he could feel it pressing on him and her. "You also love to sometimes go to the Middle District, where you can find your favorite pastries: small biscuits shaped like cats and drizzled in chocolate, which can only be found at From the Mill." Arthur allowed a quick sigh as he closed his eyes again, remembering his talks with Theo. He could remember every detail, because it was her.
"Has spring started?" He waited a few seconds for a response, eyes opening to Theo's voice. "I was wondering if it was your birthday."
|
|