Green Labyrinth
08-03-2017, 11:57 PM
The little honeybee girl had never ventured into the Labyrinth when it’d rested amidst Helovia’s pathways. It hadn’t been a discovery, a sojourn, an adventure for her – perhaps too far away, perhaps too unknown, or she’d saved it for the here and now.
Had she of known about it, she likely would’ve never stepped within its green fortress.
The mists were instantly overwhelming, and she was dazed, rattled, confused by the fog’s directions, seemingly everywhere at once, making her scowl, making her squint, pulsing over her senses until they were on edge, on fire, ardent and ferocious. Sila squirmed from her nest of wings and feathers along Melita’s back, and together they tiptoed into the carnivorous wake, hoping for a sign, a reason, for daring the unknown (before, there wouldn’t have been anything but impulsiveness, sheer notions of because I can; however, here, in the dark, dreary wake of eldritch things, there had to be purpose, there had to be drive).
She could hear others, shouts, bellows, and strived to get nearer, tiny footsteps making only dulcet motions, pleading she’d somehow escape notice, not become another caught in the abysmal webs, but all that changed in an instant. From the corner of her eye, she saw her.
Her mother – draped in that finely spun gold, her ivory dragon on her shoulder, every bit as gentle and serene, every bit as protective and wondrous as the last time she’d seen her. The child’s heart beat in frantic, sublime intricacies, a cacophony to her ears, building with every step she took towards her dam’s image, tears running unfettered, unbound down her cheeks, her voice a beautiful, zealous tune. “Mom!” She was safe, she was whole, she was untouched by the dangers, by the treacheries, of this ridiculous place-
But as she grew closer, as she stepped over fields of enigmatic design, as she swarmed in delight, her mother’s tranquil figure lost its repose, its tangibility, it’s peaceful complexion. Her smile was replaced with an eerie, bewitching grin, a haunting, striking line set upon ruins and ruins of ash, of ghosts, of wraiths and phantoms. All the delight Melita had managed to conjure in the wake of tenacity, because her dreams had come true and they were reunited, collapsed; and only infernal trepidation swallowed, consumed her, nearly robbed her of everything she’d ever craved as her dam’s image became purely demonic. It was ghoulish, it was fierce, it was poised like daggers, like knives, like cloaks and catacombs, and she couldn’t run from it, couldn’t do anything but be devoured in its essence. “Mom?” She asked on a dreadful whisper, and Sila bristled, electricity and sparks, but it wouldn’t be enough to conquer this dastardly foe (it can’t be her). The only thing she could do was back away, features contorted in horror, in pain, in misery, for the deceit clawing its way through her mind – “Please don’t,” she murmured again, terrified and tortured, trembling and quivering, incapable of consecrating anything but a plea for liberation and deliverance.
Had she of known about it, she likely would’ve never stepped within its green fortress.
The mists were instantly overwhelming, and she was dazed, rattled, confused by the fog’s directions, seemingly everywhere at once, making her scowl, making her squint, pulsing over her senses until they were on edge, on fire, ardent and ferocious. Sila squirmed from her nest of wings and feathers along Melita’s back, and together they tiptoed into the carnivorous wake, hoping for a sign, a reason, for daring the unknown (before, there wouldn’t have been anything but impulsiveness, sheer notions of because I can; however, here, in the dark, dreary wake of eldritch things, there had to be purpose, there had to be drive).
She could hear others, shouts, bellows, and strived to get nearer, tiny footsteps making only dulcet motions, pleading she’d somehow escape notice, not become another caught in the abysmal webs, but all that changed in an instant. From the corner of her eye, she saw her.
Her mother – draped in that finely spun gold, her ivory dragon on her shoulder, every bit as gentle and serene, every bit as protective and wondrous as the last time she’d seen her. The child’s heart beat in frantic, sublime intricacies, a cacophony to her ears, building with every step she took towards her dam’s image, tears running unfettered, unbound down her cheeks, her voice a beautiful, zealous tune. “Mom!” She was safe, she was whole, she was untouched by the dangers, by the treacheries, of this ridiculous place-
But as she grew closer, as she stepped over fields of enigmatic design, as she swarmed in delight, her mother’s tranquil figure lost its repose, its tangibility, it’s peaceful complexion. Her smile was replaced with an eerie, bewitching grin, a haunting, striking line set upon ruins and ruins of ash, of ghosts, of wraiths and phantoms. All the delight Melita had managed to conjure in the wake of tenacity, because her dreams had come true and they were reunited, collapsed; and only infernal trepidation swallowed, consumed her, nearly robbed her of everything she’d ever craved as her dam’s image became purely demonic. It was ghoulish, it was fierce, it was poised like daggers, like knives, like cloaks and catacombs, and she couldn’t run from it, couldn’t do anything but be devoured in its essence. “Mom?” She asked on a dreadful whisper, and Sila bristled, electricity and sparks, but it wouldn’t be enough to conquer this dastardly foe (it can’t be her). The only thing she could do was back away, features contorted in horror, in pain, in misery, for the deceit clawing its way through her mind – “Please don’t,” she murmured again, terrified and tortured, trembling and quivering, incapable of consecrating anything but a plea for liberation and deliverance.
Melita
diamond in the flesh
{scary ghostly image of her mother has Melita backing away and shaking. ;D}
