Ilana [SHEBA]
Oct 28, 2018 4:40:50 GMT -5
Post by L on Oct 28, 2018 4:40:50 GMT -5
dont feel pressured to respond until like... after 8 november or something because i'm gonna be loaded until then
The stars were falling.
They tumbled all around her like streaking lights, dashed across the heavens for all the world to see. Ilana thought that if she focussed hard enough, she could make out the faint figure of her father, frame youthful with new life, speeding towards the ground. Her mother, old and kind and tired, the constellations forming the shape of her body lying prone among the stars. She thought that if she wished - if she were once more a child, wishing upon shooting stars - to see them again, then surely they would break free of their faraway prisons and return to her side upon the earth.
But she was a mortal, and they were dead.
Ilana thought that she might be dreaming.
The precipice loomed over her; bearing before the wolf the hallowed entrances to the dens of the White Wolves. Mystical creatures this mountain had seen fit to bless with power unlike any mortal had ever before witnessed. She wondered, for a moment, what they had done to deserve the honour. Was it fate? Perhaps chance, fickle as the wind, bowing to a higher order ahead of them? How had they come to be? And why, of all wolves, had they been the ones to be proclaimed as gods?
The woman steeled herself. She was no disbeliever, but she was no starry-eyed pup either; she'd watched her mother slip away into dreamless sleep under her very gaze, and the gods had done nothing about it. And yet, that was the mind of a god - uncaring, flighty, perhaps even selfish. What did they care about the mortals underneath their mountain? Their lives were nothing to those unaging creatures, naught but dust in the sand of time. Her mother was only one of a hundred wolves in the valley. Her little family would be gone before a single tree cracked. They would be dust before the rivers ran dry.
...So why had she prayed, that night? Had it been out of a sense of misplaced security? For her mother to find safe passage after her death? Perhaps for comfort, letting her silent thoughts ascend unheard to a deity she had never seen before.
Ilana remembered the stars had fallen then, too.
Her lips quirked into a dry smile at the blatant parallel between this night and that.
On the night of the shattering stars, she pulled herself to her feet, and waited beneath the foot of Sheba's cave. The wind blew all around her, and even the sky was quiet.
IMAGE BY ANTHONY CANTIN ON UNSPLASH
ILANA
The stars were falling.
They tumbled all around her like streaking lights, dashed across the heavens for all the world to see. Ilana thought that if she focussed hard enough, she could make out the faint figure of her father, frame youthful with new life, speeding towards the ground. Her mother, old and kind and tired, the constellations forming the shape of her body lying prone among the stars. She thought that if she wished - if she were once more a child, wishing upon shooting stars - to see them again, then surely they would break free of their faraway prisons and return to her side upon the earth.
But she was a mortal, and they were dead.
Ilana thought that she might be dreaming.
The precipice loomed over her; bearing before the wolf the hallowed entrances to the dens of the White Wolves. Mystical creatures this mountain had seen fit to bless with power unlike any mortal had ever before witnessed. She wondered, for a moment, what they had done to deserve the honour. Was it fate? Perhaps chance, fickle as the wind, bowing to a higher order ahead of them? How had they come to be? And why, of all wolves, had they been the ones to be proclaimed as gods?
The woman steeled herself. She was no disbeliever, but she was no starry-eyed pup either; she'd watched her mother slip away into dreamless sleep under her very gaze, and the gods had done nothing about it. And yet, that was the mind of a god - uncaring, flighty, perhaps even selfish. What did they care about the mortals underneath their mountain? Their lives were nothing to those unaging creatures, naught but dust in the sand of time. Her mother was only one of a hundred wolves in the valley. Her little family would be gone before a single tree cracked. They would be dust before the rivers ran dry.
...So why had she prayed, that night? Had it been out of a sense of misplaced security? For her mother to find safe passage after her death? Perhaps for comfort, letting her silent thoughts ascend unheard to a deity she had never seen before.
Ilana remembered the stars had fallen then, too.
Her lips quirked into a dry smile at the blatant parallel between this night and that.
On the night of the shattering stars, she pulled herself to her feet, and waited beneath the foot of Sheba's cave. The wind blew all around her, and even the sky was quiet.
speech
OOC:
