Uwaritace
Taivas
Yes.
A simple word confirms the gentle girl's suspicions, and she cannot help but droop with the demigod. To have lost her former home, arrive here, and be faced with the reality of losing yet another home... the reality made the gentle-hearted shaman want to escape from the world, if only for a few moments of respite. Running away would do little to absolve them from their current plight, however, and soon enough logic takes over the girl's mind. Even if she was often absurdly naive, Taivas was practical.
Irritation briefly engulfs the god for a moment, though it is entirely missed by the softly illuminated mare at his side. The silence which hovers between them, like that of an aggressor with a raised fist, does not bother the painted lady. She remains remarkably still and patient, thinking surely that Kisamoa would have the answers. That childlike naivety overrides the glaringly obvious fact that, if he had the solution, he would long since have put it in place. Instead of being clobbered by Kisamoa's biting words, the fist gives way without so much as a broken sigh. The weight of the Rift was crushing Kisamoa, slowly and steadily.
I don't know.
Taivas looks away from the deformed figure beside her, feeling his consciousness drift away, as one often does in deep thought. The shaman knew enough, at least, not to probe him further. Instead, compassion overrides her curiosity, having sensed that this issue was one that constantly dug into his psyche. He must be tired, tired of looking for answers, but most of all, perhaps just tired of carrying the burden alone. She remembers the softness of his features after those gathered agreed to spread the pieces of hope. Surely, this soul was unused to the cooperation of others to further his goals.
Her dark eyes find a new target to examine, giving the god much needed respite in silence. Uwaritace watches over their conversation, a lost soul and the ghost of the once magnificent Mother Tree. As her eyes run over the scars of the fire, broken by pure ivory bark, Taivas thinks back on the lore of the wood dwellers. Unlike those in the Fields, who worshipped the sky which spanned endlessly above, the wood dwellers firmly believed that trees held the source of power in the world. The shamans of the wood were very similar to her own peoples, in that they believed in spirits being the fundamental life force of the world. As such, Mother Trees like Uwaritace were instrumental in their teachings of balance, order, and life in the world.
She remembers the tale of the sister trees, Tasapaino and Voima. Much like Uwaritace, they were giants in the wood near the fields. Their boughs stretched endlessly toward the sky, their leaves as large as fully grown pegasus. Many of the Order of the Wood lived within the branches of the great trees, and thus the sisters were central to much of their teachings. On a visit to the woods, Taivas had visited with the Elder Whisperer - a tree-speaker. Back then, she had been very young, but she remembered his teachings well. Much like the verses which were chanted to the sky at night, the wood dwellers had developed communications with the spirits of the trees.
Tasapaino and Voima were the very first trees of the wood, and from them, all other trees were born. According to the Elder Whisperer, the life force for the entire forest hinged upon the survival of the sister trees, and he claimed that even the earth surrounding them depended upon the strong veins of their roots. The mystical energy of the spirits provided a life force, in much the way those of the Fields believed that starlight bathed the world in power and provided life.
Suddenly, a switch clicks in the brain of the shaman. Her head snaps toward Kisamoa, a flicker of excitement dancing across her face. "Uwaritace's spirit remains untouched and powerful," the girl starts, her voice moving quickly - unusual for the normally placid shaman. "If you were to restore her, she might be able to heal much of the damage done to the forests, if not even other parts of the Rift." Thinking back, she pictures the Tree of Light, the illusion created by the Matriarch and other Loricatruncs during the festival.
"Would it be possible to bring her to life again?"
A simple word confirms the gentle girl's suspicions, and she cannot help but droop with the demigod. To have lost her former home, arrive here, and be faced with the reality of losing yet another home... the reality made the gentle-hearted shaman want to escape from the world, if only for a few moments of respite. Running away would do little to absolve them from their current plight, however, and soon enough logic takes over the girl's mind. Even if she was often absurdly naive, Taivas was practical.
Irritation briefly engulfs the god for a moment, though it is entirely missed by the softly illuminated mare at his side. The silence which hovers between them, like that of an aggressor with a raised fist, does not bother the painted lady. She remains remarkably still and patient, thinking surely that Kisamoa would have the answers. That childlike naivety overrides the glaringly obvious fact that, if he had the solution, he would long since have put it in place. Instead of being clobbered by Kisamoa's biting words, the fist gives way without so much as a broken sigh. The weight of the Rift was crushing Kisamoa, slowly and steadily.
I don't know.
Taivas looks away from the deformed figure beside her, feeling his consciousness drift away, as one often does in deep thought. The shaman knew enough, at least, not to probe him further. Instead, compassion overrides her curiosity, having sensed that this issue was one that constantly dug into his psyche. He must be tired, tired of looking for answers, but most of all, perhaps just tired of carrying the burden alone. She remembers the softness of his features after those gathered agreed to spread the pieces of hope. Surely, this soul was unused to the cooperation of others to further his goals.
Her dark eyes find a new target to examine, giving the god much needed respite in silence. Uwaritace watches over their conversation, a lost soul and the ghost of the once magnificent Mother Tree. As her eyes run over the scars of the fire, broken by pure ivory bark, Taivas thinks back on the lore of the wood dwellers. Unlike those in the Fields, who worshipped the sky which spanned endlessly above, the wood dwellers firmly believed that trees held the source of power in the world. The shamans of the wood were very similar to her own peoples, in that they believed in spirits being the fundamental life force of the world. As such, Mother Trees like Uwaritace were instrumental in their teachings of balance, order, and life in the world.
She remembers the tale of the sister trees, Tasapaino and Voima. Much like Uwaritace, they were giants in the wood near the fields. Their boughs stretched endlessly toward the sky, their leaves as large as fully grown pegasus. Many of the Order of the Wood lived within the branches of the great trees, and thus the sisters were central to much of their teachings. On a visit to the woods, Taivas had visited with the Elder Whisperer - a tree-speaker. Back then, she had been very young, but she remembered his teachings well. Much like the verses which were chanted to the sky at night, the wood dwellers had developed communications with the spirits of the trees.
Tasapaino and Voima were the very first trees of the wood, and from them, all other trees were born. According to the Elder Whisperer, the life force for the entire forest hinged upon the survival of the sister trees, and he claimed that even the earth surrounding them depended upon the strong veins of their roots. The mystical energy of the spirits provided a life force, in much the way those of the Fields believed that starlight bathed the world in power and provided life.
Suddenly, a switch clicks in the brain of the shaman. Her head snaps toward Kisamoa, a flicker of excitement dancing across her face. "Uwaritace's spirit remains untouched and powerful," the girl starts, her voice moving quickly - unusual for the normally placid shaman. "If you were to restore her, she might be able to heal much of the damage done to the forests, if not even other parts of the Rift." Thinking back, she pictures the Tree of Light, the illusion created by the Matriarch and other Loricatruncs during the festival.
"Would it be possible to bring her to life again?"
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
[ ooc - I forgot that I was coming to work earlier today so I had some time to throw this up! ]
