03-22-2020, 03:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-22-2020, 03:24 PM by Thalia.
Edit Reason: can't spell
)
It was oddly invigorating to meet someone truly a visitor. Sometimes when she looked upon Grim a resonance stole her attentions; divided them like a fork in a river, muddying up her thoughts and memories until she was not fully sure of where or when she was. Mara and Tristan incited the same, to various degrees; the former moreso, though the experience there was one of unyielding kinship and thus far more pleasant to withstand. She did not think Mara truly saw through the same eyes, but there was an equanimity between them that either did not need words, or simply did not become caught on the jagged rocks of misunderstanding.
So when the stranger, who stood quite firmly in the now, instructed her with wry patience not to become distracted by the kingliness of his presence, she laughed with true and unabashed merriment.
He displayed no hesitation, which also delighted her. After the wolf’s vicious mistrust, digging up all those buried bodies in her long, long past, it was quite comforting to discover acceptance. Not quite an absolution, but it pleased her all the same. She had promised Jon’s friend she would not hurt him, and given the object of that promise’s absence, her resolute nature made do with the ingredients she had instead. She would look after those denizens placed into her care. He was right to trust her!
She laughed, a mite confused, as the grip of her palms closed. “But why would I be afraid?”
The world rushed into a blur of colour, mixing like spilled paints into a dizzying array of confusion. It need not have been experienced like that, but perhaps she was trying to impress. When the detail resolved it was into dappled sunlight and the shade of an arching tree. Water churned somewhere nearby of course, but remained unseen through the forest that folded its vast arms around them. The trees themselves were huge, wide bellied, and spread great fingers to the sky. A secret place, or this spot of it at least.
Tristan might have liked it, at least if he could have shared it with better company, but it was not the sort of place she could share with Mara. The grimnir had little interest in such excursions without suitable motivation either, and she would never bring him here now anyway. Nim spent much of her existence lonely, and expectation lit up her expression for a reaction. When he said safe, this was the place she thought of. Not a memory of her waking self but something far more long-lived, with roots as old as she was.
[[Fanal, Madeira]]
So when the stranger, who stood quite firmly in the now, instructed her with wry patience not to become distracted by the kingliness of his presence, she laughed with true and unabashed merriment.
He displayed no hesitation, which also delighted her. After the wolf’s vicious mistrust, digging up all those buried bodies in her long, long past, it was quite comforting to discover acceptance. Not quite an absolution, but it pleased her all the same. She had promised Jon’s friend she would not hurt him, and given the object of that promise’s absence, her resolute nature made do with the ingredients she had instead. She would look after those denizens placed into her care. He was right to trust her!
She laughed, a mite confused, as the grip of her palms closed. “But why would I be afraid?”
The world rushed into a blur of colour, mixing like spilled paints into a dizzying array of confusion. It need not have been experienced like that, but perhaps she was trying to impress. When the detail resolved it was into dappled sunlight and the shade of an arching tree. Water churned somewhere nearby of course, but remained unseen through the forest that folded its vast arms around them. The trees themselves were huge, wide bellied, and spread great fingers to the sky. A secret place, or this spot of it at least.
Tristan might have liked it, at least if he could have shared it with better company, but it was not the sort of place she could share with Mara. The grimnir had little interest in such excursions without suitable motivation either, and she would never bring him here now anyway. Nim spent much of her existence lonely, and expectation lit up her expression for a reaction. When he said safe, this was the place she thought of. Not a memory of her waking self but something far more long-lived, with roots as old as she was.
[[Fanal, Madeira]]