04-15-2020, 03:58 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-15-2020, 06:44 AM by Rowan Finnegan.)
Rowan stood before a lake, Armande was to her right; Vale, her sister, was to the other side of Armande. A gentle breeze picked up from the North, pulling and tugging the white silk of her dress. The fabric billowed and danced in the wind. She didn’t bother fussing with it. White was the only color she had worn since leaving the compound. It was not prescribed, but Rowan had always been one for showmanship. She was now the ‘White Eye,’ why should she not embrace the title?
The dress in question was plainly cut, although form fitting around the torso, the bottom half was full and excessive; it had thin straps and nothing in terms of ornamentation. The silk that it had been made with was light and breezy – not like satin, such vile fabric. Rowan stood barefoot, which she had taken to since leaving civilization. A white, long fringed shawl of the same silk sat loose in the crooks of her elbows. Rowan wore no jewlery, save for the Opal.
Ah. The Opal. That had certainly been a spur of the moment decision. On the road, Rowan had insisted on stopping to purchase a new wardrobe. Armande resisted her for a time, but she had ultimately won out, if only thanks to Vale. It was some little city – Rowan couldn’t even remember the name – that they happened to have passed through. It was no great metropolitan locale, but it was populated enough to have a decent little strip of shops. There were more than enough boutiques to supply Rowan with a respectable trunk of clothing. (Yes, she had bought a trunk.)
Armande reluctantly agreed to foot the bill, but Rowan wasn’t one for charity. With a few well-placed phone calls, she had access to her… ‘offshore accounts’… Really, skipping out on taxes was abhorrent, but Father insisted she have a little cash stashed away for a rainy day. Thank the Goddess she had listened to him. Using the money from those trust funds, she was all but untraceable; her main holdings would have to languish on the vine for now.
What should have been a pit stop, quickly turned into a ‘day with the girls.’ Vale was exciteable when it came to life ‘above ground,’ so it was not hard to get her into the spirit of things. The pair had ended up dragging Armande up and down the little strip of society, visiting cafes, bookstores, and boutiques. Rowan had bought an entirely new wardrobe, all in pure white, and had even supplied her sister with an equally impressive array of clothing. They had ended that day in a jeweler’s shop. No surprise there. While drifting among the shop’s many glass cases, Rowan had come across an opal that had been cut into the shape of a perfect sphere. It wasn’t large. In fact, it was about the size of an eyeball.
That had been Rowan’s final purchase of the day – that opal. Once the trio had gotten back on the road, Rowan had used her magics to place the opal into her empty eye socket. Vale seemed to take it in stride, but Armande had expressed at least some surprise when all was said and done. Rowan had acted like it was the natural thing to do, so why should either one of them question her? Her reasons were her own. This stone represented so much in the way of her new path. It was fate that she had found the opal.
Such a perfect gemstone, the opal, it was known as the prism within the aura. It brought the full spectrum of Light energy into the body’s etheric energy system, soothing and clearing the emotional body, boosting the will to live and the joy of one’s physical existence. Its gleaming surface enhanced the cosmic consciousness inherent in all, bringing about flashes of intuition and insight. The opal was protective and enhanced work with the shadow self. Too perfect. Its arcane energy seemed to pulse as Rowan first laid her eye upon it, calling out to her very soul.
Even though the Power helped her insert the opal into her eye socket, it could not replicate the ability to see. It was better that way – oh there were medical advancements that could restore her vision, but that was going against her sacrifice. This opal was meant to represent the White Eye that she had become since that ritual with her sister. It was not a pretty sight, gazing upon the lifeless stone inside of her cranium, but that was partly the point. This way, Rowan could not hide who she was. This way, Rowan could wear her new title as a badge of honor. Dressed in white, and having a literal white eye, all would know what she was.
The water lapped upon the shoreline. Rowan moved away from her partners and inched closer to the water, letting her toes wiggle around in the warm liquid. They had been standing there for a long while, staring out across the horizon, in silence. The feeling of the lake on her toes helped to ground her mind. The present resettled itself in her third eye, chasing away all fleeting thoughts of dresses and gemstones. They were at Lake Baikal, in Siberia. Rowan had never heard of the place, although she had done some light research on the location since Armande had decided that this was their destination. This lake was said to be the world’s largest and deepest. Whatever they were searching for would probably be sunken at the bottom. That’s how life worked, right? No doubt, they’d have her using magic to descend into the deep.
Rowan would gladly do so if that was what had been required of her.
The heat was starting to get to Rowan, despite her light gown. She tied the thing up around her thighs, no matter how ungraceful it made her appear, before kneeling upon the shoreline. She stuck her hands in the water and cupped them together, splashing some of the water upon her face to cool down. It was beyond refreshing. A long sigh escaped her lips as she wetted her face a second time.
“Sister, come, you must cool yourself,” Rowan called cheerfully over her shoulder.
She reached out a third time, not bothering to see if Vale did as Rowan bid, splashing the water upon her own face again.
The world went black.
The dress in question was plainly cut, although form fitting around the torso, the bottom half was full and excessive; it had thin straps and nothing in terms of ornamentation. The silk that it had been made with was light and breezy – not like satin, such vile fabric. Rowan stood barefoot, which she had taken to since leaving civilization. A white, long fringed shawl of the same silk sat loose in the crooks of her elbows. Rowan wore no jewlery, save for the Opal.
Ah. The Opal. That had certainly been a spur of the moment decision. On the road, Rowan had insisted on stopping to purchase a new wardrobe. Armande resisted her for a time, but she had ultimately won out, if only thanks to Vale. It was some little city – Rowan couldn’t even remember the name – that they happened to have passed through. It was no great metropolitan locale, but it was populated enough to have a decent little strip of shops. There were more than enough boutiques to supply Rowan with a respectable trunk of clothing. (Yes, she had bought a trunk.)
Armande reluctantly agreed to foot the bill, but Rowan wasn’t one for charity. With a few well-placed phone calls, she had access to her… ‘offshore accounts’… Really, skipping out on taxes was abhorrent, but Father insisted she have a little cash stashed away for a rainy day. Thank the Goddess she had listened to him. Using the money from those trust funds, she was all but untraceable; her main holdings would have to languish on the vine for now.
What should have been a pit stop, quickly turned into a ‘day with the girls.’ Vale was exciteable when it came to life ‘above ground,’ so it was not hard to get her into the spirit of things. The pair had ended up dragging Armande up and down the little strip of society, visiting cafes, bookstores, and boutiques. Rowan had bought an entirely new wardrobe, all in pure white, and had even supplied her sister with an equally impressive array of clothing. They had ended that day in a jeweler’s shop. No surprise there. While drifting among the shop’s many glass cases, Rowan had come across an opal that had been cut into the shape of a perfect sphere. It wasn’t large. In fact, it was about the size of an eyeball.
That had been Rowan’s final purchase of the day – that opal. Once the trio had gotten back on the road, Rowan had used her magics to place the opal into her empty eye socket. Vale seemed to take it in stride, but Armande had expressed at least some surprise when all was said and done. Rowan had acted like it was the natural thing to do, so why should either one of them question her? Her reasons were her own. This stone represented so much in the way of her new path. It was fate that she had found the opal.
Such a perfect gemstone, the opal, it was known as the prism within the aura. It brought the full spectrum of Light energy into the body’s etheric energy system, soothing and clearing the emotional body, boosting the will to live and the joy of one’s physical existence. Its gleaming surface enhanced the cosmic consciousness inherent in all, bringing about flashes of intuition and insight. The opal was protective and enhanced work with the shadow self. Too perfect. Its arcane energy seemed to pulse as Rowan first laid her eye upon it, calling out to her very soul.
Even though the Power helped her insert the opal into her eye socket, it could not replicate the ability to see. It was better that way – oh there were medical advancements that could restore her vision, but that was going against her sacrifice. This opal was meant to represent the White Eye that she had become since that ritual with her sister. It was not a pretty sight, gazing upon the lifeless stone inside of her cranium, but that was partly the point. This way, Rowan could not hide who she was. This way, Rowan could wear her new title as a badge of honor. Dressed in white, and having a literal white eye, all would know what she was.
The water lapped upon the shoreline. Rowan moved away from her partners and inched closer to the water, letting her toes wiggle around in the warm liquid. They had been standing there for a long while, staring out across the horizon, in silence. The feeling of the lake on her toes helped to ground her mind. The present resettled itself in her third eye, chasing away all fleeting thoughts of dresses and gemstones. They were at Lake Baikal, in Siberia. Rowan had never heard of the place, although she had done some light research on the location since Armande had decided that this was their destination. This lake was said to be the world’s largest and deepest. Whatever they were searching for would probably be sunken at the bottom. That’s how life worked, right? No doubt, they’d have her using magic to descend into the deep.
Rowan would gladly do so if that was what had been required of her.
The heat was starting to get to Rowan, despite her light gown. She tied the thing up around her thighs, no matter how ungraceful it made her appear, before kneeling upon the shoreline. She stuck her hands in the water and cupped them together, splashing some of the water upon her face to cool down. It was beyond refreshing. A long sigh escaped her lips as she wetted her face a second time.
“Sister, come, you must cool yourself,” Rowan called cheerfully over her shoulder.
She reached out a third time, not bothering to see if Vale did as Rowan bid, splashing the water upon her own face again.
The world went black.