Allura walks slowly across the desert toward Varshikar. A thousand thoughts race through her head - most about Maliss. Zhauvalea had come at her today. Angry woman, she was. She should have known better. Allura doesn’t want Stephen, only Maliss. And she might have let Zhauvalea attack her, if only the bloody woman did so knowing the truth. However, the way it was, she didn’t deserve the satisfaction. Stupid fools walking the isle, thinking they have sense. And she had been fooled, thought Z was one of those people who actually had something working inside their heads. Allura had been wrong on that account.
Allura thinks back to the last night she had seen Stephen - before the ridiculous rumours began. She had told him she loved him.. she did, really. But she was not in love with him. She had told him he couldn’t leave Bailey, no matter how much they had been on each other’s minds. After she had left his presence that night, she had cried. Hard. Cried for losing with him what she never had, what she never really wanted. And mostly, she cried for losing Maliss. Had she ever really had him, either? She had thought so, oh how she had thought so.
His words echoed in his head of the second last time they were together. When they fought over Stephen. She should have known better than to try and defend Stephen, but she would not see Seridwen happen again in the body of Stephen. “I am pleased for what you have discovered; a glowing world where you are surrounded by love and care and moved by it. However, I cannot follow you into it." But he had. He already had, he had to know that. "I didnt ask for this love yet now having it, I am forced to contend with its ability to wound.” Is that why he left? She thought it had been ended, they had argued long, but it had been solved. Had it not? He had stroked her hair until she had fallen asleep, her name on his lips.
The very last time she saw him... she had been with Mairead. That child of her heart. What had they spoken of? She doesn’t know why she asks herself. She knows what was spoken, every word, every gesture. Vaguely the other faces that drifted about their small group that day. Forgiveness. A declaration of a love renewed.
“To know the world, is to understand how it is weaved. You are your own keeper.” She asks herself for what must be the millionth time if that is what made him leave. But she cannot seem to make it make sense. The stinging last words “I shall not be far, my dove. Be well”. Not far? But there was space between them. Leagues and leagues. Both timewise and distance. He was not near. And oh, how she needed him to return to her.
Memories and Yearnings
Moderator: Gamemasters
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Allura
- Posts: 134
- Joined: Sat Oct 08, 2005 4:53 am
- Location: Bending my mind to crawl through perversions and riddles.
Allura moves silently through Varshikar’s town square, past the fountain. Dusk settles thick around her, and her gray-blue eyes see little of it. Everything is turned inward. She moves to the castle and sits just outside the door, her back to the cool, but welcoming stones. Drawing her knees to her chest and letting her head rest against the wall beside her, she sighs. So much would have been different. What if she had just turned away? Many memories stood out in her mind, not the least of which was the first night she met him. Nearly a year ago...
It had been especially cold that night. Allura had entered the shop, her black cloak pulled tight around her. She remembers looking for a place to sit, eyes travelling the room and all therein. At the table closest to her sat an elf. He had looked up to her with his single eye and nodded politely. Though the hair on the back of her neck stood up, or maybe because it did, she moved to the table with the elf. She had offered him a small smile with her crimson lips, her cheeks no doubt as red as her hair from the cold. When first he spoke to her, a shiver tore up her spine and she could not help but smile at the voice, so like her Seridwen’s. Strange, how a simple “Be greeted” in voice as cool and melodic as a mountain spring could make her tremble inside and strain to want to hear more. She remembers the awe she felt when taking in his appearance that evening. Even though he was sitting she could tell he was tall. Well over her own six foot height. His hair was red, auburn, really, his skin pale and perfect as marble. He is fine-boned in his face, but only the left side of his face displays it. On the right is a terrible scar and it is apparent to Allura that he is missing his eye. His remaining eye is striking: glacier blue and seldom still. Though she felt a creeping knowledge in her head that she should be taken aback by his ruined face, she was not put-off.
From the first he had pushed her back, stinging words that flared her temper. And her biting reply was apparently what he wished to hear.
He continued to speak quietly with her for a long while. He had been the first person in 300 years to whom she admitted playing the harp. Her intrigue begged her to remain in his company. Perhaps as an elfess she should have known better than to let her curiosity hold her.
Even after his warnings about his nature and her choice of company, she had stayed. So much would have been different.
“I shall risk confessing I’m enchanted. Speaks like a bard and thinks like myself. Why what manner of lovely creature might I be...” He had trailed off there, giving her a truly graceful smile, a shade of the charm he must once have possessed coming through.
A single tear escapes from her eye, leaving a wet trail down her porcelain cheek. “Maliss”.
It had been especially cold that night. Allura had entered the shop, her black cloak pulled tight around her. She remembers looking for a place to sit, eyes travelling the room and all therein. At the table closest to her sat an elf. He had looked up to her with his single eye and nodded politely. Though the hair on the back of her neck stood up, or maybe because it did, she moved to the table with the elf. She had offered him a small smile with her crimson lips, her cheeks no doubt as red as her hair from the cold. When first he spoke to her, a shiver tore up her spine and she could not help but smile at the voice, so like her Seridwen’s. Strange, how a simple “Be greeted” in voice as cool and melodic as a mountain spring could make her tremble inside and strain to want to hear more. She remembers the awe she felt when taking in his appearance that evening. Even though he was sitting she could tell he was tall. Well over her own six foot height. His hair was red, auburn, really, his skin pale and perfect as marble. He is fine-boned in his face, but only the left side of his face displays it. On the right is a terrible scar and it is apparent to Allura that he is missing his eye. His remaining eye is striking: glacier blue and seldom still. Though she felt a creeping knowledge in her head that she should be taken aback by his ruined face, she was not put-off.
From the first he had pushed her back, stinging words that flared her temper. And her biting reply was apparently what he wished to hear.
He continued to speak quietly with her for a long while. He had been the first person in 300 years to whom she admitted playing the harp. Her intrigue begged her to remain in his company. Perhaps as an elfess she should have known better than to let her curiosity hold her.
Even after his warnings about his nature and her choice of company, she had stayed. So much would have been different.
“I shall risk confessing I’m enchanted. Speaks like a bard and thinks like myself. Why what manner of lovely creature might I be...” He had trailed off there, giving her a truly graceful smile, a shade of the charm he must once have possessed coming through.
A single tear escapes from her eye, leaving a wet trail down her porcelain cheek. “Maliss”.
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Allura
- Posts: 134
- Joined: Sat Oct 08, 2005 4:53 am
- Location: Bending my mind to crawl through perversions and riddles.
Though her thoughts are never far from Maliss, the world begins to draw her out again. Too many people and activities to wallow in one's misery for long periods at a time, no matter how often they return for a visit.
Jeremy had been helpful to her. Listening to him helped her with her own troubles. And she was grateful.
Athian had been absent from her happenings for a long while and she hoped she would cross his path soon.
Aristeaus always took her mind off worrying things to encourage misbehaviour. After this day she sees why he and Quin fit together as intricately and easily as two partnered pieces of a puzzle.
There were others who knew little of her situation, but whose presence she was grateful for. Marie, Shandariel, Pharun, Orlo... and now Bailey.
Allura ponders for a minute where she sits with her back to the castle wall. "Bailey..." How strange a twist fate took two nights ago concerning Bailey. Allura had been avoiding The Bane for a while, and also Bailey, for fear that revenge was on the lady's plate. And yet it seemed it was not. Bailey proved much more intelligent, reasonable, and honourable than others who stood for her. And a personality that ran circles around Allura's mind. They had parted on good, however strange, terms. And Allura was shocked to come across her sitting on a boulder just outside the castle in Varshikar after so short an absence...
Jeremy had been helpful to her. Listening to him helped her with her own troubles. And she was grateful.
Athian had been absent from her happenings for a long while and she hoped she would cross his path soon.
Aristeaus always took her mind off worrying things to encourage misbehaviour. After this day she sees why he and Quin fit together as intricately and easily as two partnered pieces of a puzzle.
There were others who knew little of her situation, but whose presence she was grateful for. Marie, Shandariel, Pharun, Orlo... and now Bailey.
Allura ponders for a minute where she sits with her back to the castle wall. "Bailey..." How strange a twist fate took two nights ago concerning Bailey. Allura had been avoiding The Bane for a while, and also Bailey, for fear that revenge was on the lady's plate. And yet it seemed it was not. Bailey proved much more intelligent, reasonable, and honourable than others who stood for her. And a personality that ran circles around Allura's mind. They had parted on good, however strange, terms. And Allura was shocked to come across her sitting on a boulder just outside the castle in Varshikar after so short an absence...
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Allura
- Posts: 134
- Joined: Sat Oct 08, 2005 4:53 am
- Location: Bending my mind to crawl through perversions and riddles.
Allura stood like a porcelain figure, painted and clothed, at the ocean's edge North of Varshikar. The seabreeze assaulted her cheeks with cold, salty, clumsy fondling. It picked her red curls from their resting place over her shoulders and down her straight back, up into it's dance, tugging and knotting. It seemed nature itself disputed her reason for standing there, was warning her against the betrayal she was to commmit. Ever so slowly one of her lily-white hands reaches into her belt, withdrawing a folded piece of parchment. Her fingers shake only slightly as she opens the letter to view the flowing script, marred only by some ink blotches throughout the lines - the result of folding the words upon each other so soon after being written. Lifting her chin, she reads the letter into the wind, her singer's voice being sucked away from her ears immediately to travel over the expanse of the ocean.
Dearest Maliss,
I have spent night after night awaiting your return. I have shed tears enough to overflow a hundred times the void I can feel in my heart. I have wondered how I should act, what I might do to spark your return. I have thought on what it could be like if you would return of your own accord. Thoughts have birthed, spun, and died in your absence - most of them on the subject of your disappearance. Finally I know what my decision must be.
My emotions to you shall turn cool. I will aim to be in as solid in cold isolation from you as you displayed on issues that caused you to ache. It is your calm and often frigid voice that I will hear echo in my heart at the name 'Maliss'.
The only things I cannot cool are my memories - for I know them to be as warm, welcoming, and 'home' as your embrace was to me. I know you would be happy with how I choose to remember you. In words I heard you spoke so many times before, "as you are, so shall you remain".
I will not waste any more time in contemplation on your leaving, nor will I ponder on who and what you may now be. You are forever to me as I saw you that first night and as I saw you on our last. My Maliss, with cool and melodic voice, wizened and simultaneously biting words, warm and comforting embrace, deep thoughts, and nearly unreachable affection and love.
This is your 'Dove' saying good-bye to you. And now at this crucial point, how do I feel? As I am so shall I remain.
~Allura~
As she finishes, her name emerges from her crimson lips in a near-whisper. It hadn't been enough, it hadn't been all she wanted to say. But it would remain all that was said. She releases her grip on the page and the wind snatches it quickly, pulling it into the lapping waves before her. She watches with gray-blue eyes as the current shepherd's it away, just as it had no doubt provided travel for Maliss. She watches as long as her elven vision allows, seeing the ink bleed from the parchment as she had bled tears from her heart. However, she would do that no longer. As she turns, the tear that slips from the corner of her eye is not one of pain, but one brought on only by the cold, relentless wind in her face.
Dearest Maliss,
I have spent night after night awaiting your return. I have shed tears enough to overflow a hundred times the void I can feel in my heart. I have wondered how I should act, what I might do to spark your return. I have thought on what it could be like if you would return of your own accord. Thoughts have birthed, spun, and died in your absence - most of them on the subject of your disappearance. Finally I know what my decision must be.
My emotions to you shall turn cool. I will aim to be in as solid in cold isolation from you as you displayed on issues that caused you to ache. It is your calm and often frigid voice that I will hear echo in my heart at the name 'Maliss'.
The only things I cannot cool are my memories - for I know them to be as warm, welcoming, and 'home' as your embrace was to me. I know you would be happy with how I choose to remember you. In words I heard you spoke so many times before, "as you are, so shall you remain".
I will not waste any more time in contemplation on your leaving, nor will I ponder on who and what you may now be. You are forever to me as I saw you that first night and as I saw you on our last. My Maliss, with cool and melodic voice, wizened and simultaneously biting words, warm and comforting embrace, deep thoughts, and nearly unreachable affection and love.
This is your 'Dove' saying good-bye to you. And now at this crucial point, how do I feel? As I am so shall I remain.
~Allura~
As she finishes, her name emerges from her crimson lips in a near-whisper. It hadn't been enough, it hadn't been all she wanted to say. But it would remain all that was said. She releases her grip on the page and the wind snatches it quickly, pulling it into the lapping waves before her. She watches with gray-blue eyes as the current shepherd's it away, just as it had no doubt provided travel for Maliss. She watches as long as her elven vision allows, seeing the ink bleed from the parchment as she had bled tears from her heart. However, she would do that no longer. As she turns, the tear that slips from the corner of her eye is not one of pain, but one brought on only by the cold, relentless wind in her face.