Fimbulvetr

Nevermore

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Private darkened dreams

#1
Marrow


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Kismet watches the smattering of leaves that had already wilted into their colorful array, slowly twirl toward the ground. A pining ache settles deep into her soul at the way the leaves freely spiral and curl along the currents of air. Their dance to earth reminds her very much of the dancing she used to perform...except surround by flames of her own making. That locked away magic stirs under charcoal skin and her eyes spark with frustration. Inhaling sharply, she tries to draw the flame out from whatever sorcery dared to lock it away, but as usual nothing happens. Nothing beyond the increasingly irritating stirring of fire and warmth in her veins.

She shifts restlessly where she stands beneath an oak tree, the music she always hears inside her head when she dances playing in a teasing loop inside her head. Tears pool in her vision. Damn you, Marrow. She berates her estranged companion for bringing her to this horrible place and then shortly after disappearing to who knows where. Her mental bashing of his character comes to a screeching halt quickly; I am at fault just as much as he is. Having made no effort to find her friend, she realizes she assumed he would always be the one to look for her. My mother would skin my hide for thinking that.

With a self-deprecating smile, she leans against the tree and allows a few tears at her foolishness to track their way down her cheeks. In no time at all, she becomes engrossed in memories of their travel and her life with the rest of her gypsy family before Marrow found her. Soon enough, her musings take her back to one of her performances and a smile tinged with sorrow graces dark lips. She feels the beat of her uncle’s drums pounding out a rhythm that never failed to make her grin in excitement. Her left hind hoof begins to stamp out the beat she hears inside her mind and her head begins to dip in time to the music as well.

The wind kicks up, sending a swirling vortex of leaves that match her fiery hair to frolic around her. Kismet moves away from the trunk and begins to dance, each step one she mastered since youth. Thump, thump, thump. Hips sway for a half-beat and she spins in a graceful twirl on her right leg. Inaudible music plays and leaves twine themselves in her mane and tail. Her eyes close as she feels the blood pulse in her veins and the magic simmers, pushing against the confines of its invisible cage. Another tear makes it way down her cheek before she spins again and it flies into the autumn air.


Translation: --

Tag: @[Kismet]

#2

Marrow Camdene

i am dumb to tell the weather's wind

Marrow had been, as of late, plagued with a growing concern for his dearest friend. Of course, he had thought about her regularly in his trek north. Hell, she still had his cloak. It was a promise to return but when he had finally the means to do so... nothing. Kismet's stench had gone stale and the youthful prince wasn't necessarily one who had ever been adept at tracking. Her cinder perfume lost to the wind, Marrow determined that eventually - eventually - she'd return... right? At some point their paths had to cross again. They were not lost to each other for all of eternity.

At least, that's what he had told himself.

Finally he had awoken an autumn day and concluded he would find her before returning home. It had always been his job, after all. He got them hopelessly and irreparably lost in the wilds of foreign lands and when he wandered off he always managed to find her again. So he awoke a frost laced morning, blood coursing with the desire to run, to look, to wander, and find his dearest Kismet. Throwing himself into the winds, the runaway prince forged his path through the still green firs and evergreens of the northern realm. As the rhythmic cadence of his gait lulled him into a meditation Marrow considered that the central territories - where that lake had been - would be the best place to start. Afterall, Kistmet was never one to wander too far.

After the brisk, chilled morn hours had faded, his gilded hooves (dirtied now) had managed to carry him to the Slidr Lake. He stopped only once at it's short, nearly running into the blasted waters, to lap at the mirror-like surface and quench the unbelievable thirst he'd managed to procure gallivanting the mountains. Rejuvenated and the sun high to aid his investigations, Marrow shot off again, cresting the wide expanse of the mighty lake, his nose and eyes peeled. Guilt once or twice, or perhaps more, bubbled in his chest for the delay in his return. Ultimately, it had been his fault. Had he not already admitted that it was his chore to return? To take responsibility for his actions? But he'd never been one for responsibility... at least, not yet. But he concluded to his inner musings that this, this locating and securing of his dearest and closest of friends, would be the start of a new leaf. Besides, Ambrosius was lonely without her.

Into the day he search high and low, taking to the thick woods, following whatever smells interested him and he thought would help. Marrow, finally, skirting through the trees with a fatigued and lazy walk came to a halt. Dare he admit defeat? Was he once again failing her? A frown tugged at his velvet lips, and he sighed deeply. Perhaps it had been a fool's errand... But with the stillness came clarity. A dull thump, muffled by the trees and their rustling canopies, permeated through the natural choral of the forest. At first, he thought it simply another passing... but it stopped, before continuing. A melody formed in the thrumming, one Marrow distantly recalled. Audits shooting forward, his visage snapped in the general direction he heard the dance bounding, before trotting after it. He did not call because he feared it would stop the rhythmic song - and if he lost it, he'd lose her.

Sure enough, after enough pursuit through the shedding fall forest, her ebbing and flowing image broke through the trees. She was, in fact, dancing just has he had thought. So he took his approach silently, not necessarily a fan of sneaking up on her, but also holding no desire to stop her. Marrow hadn't seen Kismet dance in... well... had she ever danced again after they set on the road? He wasn't sure... so he wanted to steal the chance again. At the edge of her space, besides a great oak tree, he fell quiet and still at her audience. His audits flicked now and again, musing at what phantom tune was playing (and completely) the one she orchestrated now. But most importantly, he had remained quiet until her finish, her finale, where he finally said, brimming with smile, "Encore!"



TAGGED: Kismet
WC: 706
MUSE: 3/5
OOC: what a dweeb


coding © soupi
image © darkfidelity @ dA





powerplay excused
within reasonable limits!
always tag responses.
@[Marrow]

Tag: @[Marrow]