Uwaritace
07-29-2018, 10:10 PM
Taivas
I am not a life-giver.
Something, deep within the soul and spirit of Taivas knows this to be true. Looking at the emulsion of spirits, shadow, flesh, and bone, there is nothing within Kisamoa that speaks of life. Light does not reflect upon him like it does on other bodies, much less does it radiate from him. If she had not lost her connection to the spirits of the world, the starry eyed girl might have gotten more insight into the inner workings of the strange, beastial god before her. Instead, she is left to muse over his power on her own.
"But, I am," she whispers calmly, her face turning back toward the once pure ivory bark, running over the charred veins of flame.
Born to Talin of the Night Sky and Onni the Illuminant, Taivas had been birthed with the innate ability to mend and heal. Her teachings with the Elders had only bolstered that natural talent, given form through communication with the spirits. The thought that she could no longer hear them or call upon them would distress her if not for this fact. For, as she closes her eyes and breathes, she can hear another voice speaking to her with warmth and affection. It is the light we find in the darkness which shines most brightly.
Father. Oh, how she misses him.
For a moment, the weight of what she would take on begins to make her feel like a naive child. Surely, she could not be so strong and important as to heal the Mother Tree. She was not versed well in the lore of the woods. She had no right to think she could manage to accomplish anything. The effort was futile.
She opens her eyes upon hearing Kisamoa speak once more, his voice only affirming what she had tried to anchor within her own mind. That flicker of shame at her delusion of grandiosity and strength is quashed, allowing her to firmly accept the next task for her in this world - the Rift.
The tree who had offered her solace in the darkest period of her life would become the wind underneath her wings now. Every effort she would make would be directed toward the restoration of Uwaritace, so that the kindness and kinship could be returned to the ghost that simply refused to die.
You will need to put down your own roots, if you are to help her.
Smiling, the little moon appears thankful and warm for a brief moment before her face returns to the same, flat canvas from moments before. "Thank you, Kisamoa," her voice is delicate and soft, carrying with it the faded remnants of sorrow and helplessness. Now that she has a direction, she can easily follow it. For someone who is not a life-giver, Kisamoa has given much to the small shaman in her time of need. A kindness she would not soon forget.
"I will help you save the Rift, or stand with you at the end of all things."
Either way, Taivas would be content.
Something, deep within the soul and spirit of Taivas knows this to be true. Looking at the emulsion of spirits, shadow, flesh, and bone, there is nothing within Kisamoa that speaks of life. Light does not reflect upon him like it does on other bodies, much less does it radiate from him. If she had not lost her connection to the spirits of the world, the starry eyed girl might have gotten more insight into the inner workings of the strange, beastial god before her. Instead, she is left to muse over his power on her own.
"But, I am," she whispers calmly, her face turning back toward the once pure ivory bark, running over the charred veins of flame.
Born to Talin of the Night Sky and Onni the Illuminant, Taivas had been birthed with the innate ability to mend and heal. Her teachings with the Elders had only bolstered that natural talent, given form through communication with the spirits. The thought that she could no longer hear them or call upon them would distress her if not for this fact. For, as she closes her eyes and breathes, she can hear another voice speaking to her with warmth and affection. It is the light we find in the darkness which shines most brightly.
Father. Oh, how she misses him.
For a moment, the weight of what she would take on begins to make her feel like a naive child. Surely, she could not be so strong and important as to heal the Mother Tree. She was not versed well in the lore of the woods. She had no right to think she could manage to accomplish anything. The effort was futile.
She opens her eyes upon hearing Kisamoa speak once more, his voice only affirming what she had tried to anchor within her own mind. That flicker of shame at her delusion of grandiosity and strength is quashed, allowing her to firmly accept the next task for her in this world - the Rift.
The tree who had offered her solace in the darkest period of her life would become the wind underneath her wings now. Every effort she would make would be directed toward the restoration of Uwaritace, so that the kindness and kinship could be returned to the ghost that simply refused to die.
You will need to put down your own roots, if you are to help her.
Smiling, the little moon appears thankful and warm for a brief moment before her face returns to the same, flat canvas from moments before. "Thank you, Kisamoa," her voice is delicate and soft, carrying with it the faded remnants of sorrow and helplessness. Now that she has a direction, she can easily follow it. For someone who is not a life-giver, Kisamoa has given much to the small shaman in her time of need. A kindness she would not soon forget.
"I will help you save the Rift, or stand with you at the end of all things."
Either way, Taivas would be content.
moon dust in your lungs
stars in your eyes
you are a child of the cosmos,
a ruler of the skies
stars in your eyes
you are a child of the cosmos,
a ruler of the skies
