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Post by Koosh on Apr 2, 2013 18:08:40 GMT -5
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Wind, sluicing, caressing... Nought but a gently stirring touch against the upper echelons of the fingers. Lower on the trunk, a bird’s tiny hooks latched to the smallest indentations. Vibration, a call. A shrill precursor to flight. Near the base, the endless tendrils of bracing, balancing, life-carrying roots, rutted a boar in the mud. Ever, endlessly, the insistent slow drag of treesblood in every pore. Waiting, feeling.
Time’s passage was nought but the most distant glimmer of thought. Barely something worth a glance when the wind came in from the south. A cloud o’er the sun. Rain pattering, cooling, drying. Relentless upward growth, and downward. Feeling. There was none like the cool press of earth from all directions, the weightless open wonder of the sky above and around. Flying could not compare, for all the birds squalled and squawked about it.
Sighing, sloughing loose hide. Groaning, breaking under a harsher wind. Leaves a-turn from harsher fall than rain. But the openness! Roots cross, minds mingling from tree to tree trunk to trunk to leaf and core and soul; all in one and none in all. All but one. The solitary watcher lost to the world before. Waiting watching feeling being. Peace with the world and careless without. Not even a name remain’d for what tree has need of such things? Like an eye on a branch, what good could that do, only to see what a tree already sees.
And so much more than seeing. Being feeling knowing connecting. Heartwood moves not but holds all, horseflesh moves far but keeps little; how could he have ever had another heart but the wood...? Beating, quickly pulsing growing stretching forgetting learning flying.
Water flushing in easy cycles between the roots, bringing in new loam new life; floods are life though death they bring to all but trees. Standing towering spreading - and watching.
Waiting.
status: complete words: 313 music: Journey OST - Austin Wintory tagged: Adda & Soupi. Closed. notes: Felt like free-versing it a little? Besides, trees don’t have any obligation to think in any linear sense. :U
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Post by ♛ Dova Soupi on Apr 10, 2013 9:35:30 GMT -5
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Adelaide had never come here. She had never had the need. Mother and father had once taught her in rhymes not to come to such a place as the Perilous Bog. Even the name itself was a daunting warning. Perilous. Everything about the word oozed with caution. Though, now, everything was different. She wasn't so naive to the world around her. No. She understood it more so than any other equine. Well, save for the other slowly blooming druids. Who would have thought that the maimed mare of Gascti would ever be provided the chance to witness the power herself? She was surely grateful. In the mornings she prayed to the Gods and Mighty Ones in thanks for bestowing her such a wonderful gift.
She could see everything, she could feel everything, she could sense everything. Without even opening her eyes, she knew the path her hooves should take to stay true and remain safe. The Tanglevine that wished to wrap her in their coils reeled with pulses of anger as she avoided them, lids closed, as she meditated. Every step was slow and calculated, without a falter to smolder the smooth transitions from step to step. Near by, a group of field mice skittered away from her heavy, daunting hoof falls. She could feel their racing hearts, pounding in their chests with absolute terror. Their small brains did not fathom she was not their enemy, though, this was of little importance. Instead, she focused on the slow, humming heartbeats of the many mangroves that towered above her like sentries, staring down at her with watchful, everlasting kinship. "Welcome. Adelaide.", "Druid. Hello.", "Treespeaker." They all greeted her, as if the sways they made in the light gales were true voices now, where they had once been but a fickle sound of the forest.
Thump, thump, thump. She moved ever onward, slowly, yet carefully, her golden eyes hidden from view. All the trees greeted her as warmly as a tree could, some remained silent with prickles of disdain for her. A shiver rolled over her bay pelt, as if she could feel their irritation. She supposed some of the trees assumed the Druids were not worthy of such powers. Adelaide remained neutral to them, and treated them with as much respect she could fathom. They brought her through the bog without worry, directing her safely, every soul connecting with hers, becoming one with hers.
Then there was a hiccup. This tree did not greet her. A low, swooning sense of detachment, as if it weren't awake. Adelaide stopped, her head instantly turned to the said tree, and her golden eyes flicked open, sparkling in the saturated sunlight that fought through the canopy. A large, impending mangrove stood before her, swaying lightly to the trained eye. Her eyes trailed the pattern in the trunk, and followed the branches to their leaves. Mentally, she could not get nearly as in sync with this mangrove has she had with the others. It wasn't reacting at all. As if... as if it was sleeping. Could trees sleep? Was that possible?
Without further hesitation, Adelaide stepped up to the mangrove, hooves lifting up over its tangled roots. Her feathering brushed against them, and unlike others there was no transferred images of tree life... Her head dipped momentarily to look at them curiously. They seemed like any other tree... It was strange. Curiously, Aldeaide craned her muzzle out, stretching her nape as far as she could, and pressed her nostrils to the trunk. "Wake up." What else was there to say?
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[/b][/u] complete WORDS:[/u] i dunno NOTES:[/u] WHOOOOO CODING & GRAPHICS:[/u] Scrimpy @ NAUGHTYCANBENICE STUDIOS[/ul][/size][/color][/font][/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote] [/td][/tr] [/table] [/center]
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Post by Koosh on Apr 24, 2013 22:19:23 GMT -5
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A touch.
That was all it took.
One small brush - the merest sensation - among a myriad of other sensory inputs, and everything changed. Time slowed down... but sped up at the same time. Swirling, twisting, tearing, a mind sucked from the world of vacuous semi-consciousness of a thousand years. It might have been painful, if not for the symbiote’s last tribute to its life-partner, at least in its current form. A surge of energy, the siphoning of all vitality from leaves and tendrils and hanging mosses and the deepest roots into the very core. The very being that now stirred in the heartwood.
Two spoken words, heard for the first time in the true sense of hearing since the transformation. Wake up. But no; why? Why awaken when the lives of trees sang a siren song through veins long burrowed into fertile, damp peat. Who was it to finally break this endless reverie of enlightened monotony, this sacred bond of tree and horse and time... and the Bog? There was a very audible groan as leaves began to shiver, to wither on the very branches that had put them forth, falling in a listless rain. Bark sloughed at an unprecedented rate; every fibre of it desiccated and dull. There was a stirring in the center, then; some ungainly form testing limbs a thousand years inactive against the quickly failing wood of its former cradle. Entire branches were falling now, slumping against other trees as the first shuddering beat of a long-still heart echoed like a handclap.
Three heartbeats, then five. A shuddering breath drawn like a stiff wind through mangrove branches into lungs newly reborn. It was with a staggering step that he emerged, all six legs jerking like a fresh-birthed foal’s. This movement disturbed and dislodged the last tangled detritus that had snagged across a broad, lightly-dappled dun flank. Less could be done about the plethora of twigs and bark fragments snarled into the mass of twisted dreadlocks that made up the staggering stallion’s mane, as well as the lengthy train of his coal-black tail. For all of the smaller debris that made his tresses appear discheveled, his coat was oddly smooth, and almost appeared slick with moisture and residual tree-sap. A sort of placental remnant, if you will. For a moment more he struggled with the placement and control of the eyebrow-raising six legs he stood upon, but as he shook free of the dying mangrove’s embrace, a much more bizarre sight became apparent.
Four feet it rose, spiraling from his withers in a stunning miniature replica of his prior resting place. A mangrove, real and and alive, with small, barely-unfurled little leaves on each branch and twig. Those small leaves rustled with a quiet hush as the stallion moved forward at last, his steps languid, vivid green eyes glazed in what might have been a disturbing manner. In all reality they were struggling to focus; a thousand years without using light for anything but a food source renders eyesight a bit difficult, after all. “Wh...?” Like sight, speech was like learning to walk again. All the stallion knew was that there was a figure before him, one with what looked like a tree-branch sweeping back from the crown to tower above. Some distant, less-clouded part of his mind surmised that it might be another Tree-Speaker, and so he felt tickled to try again. “Who...?” he slurred the word abominably, eyes blinking almost drunkenly as his mind battled to learn, to remember. “Who... are y... you?”
status: complete words: 600 on the nose. music: Journey OST - Austin Wintory tagged: Adda & Soupi. Closed. notes: Basically the entire trunk of the giant mangrove collapsed after shunting all of its energy into Hist to reawaken him, if that wasn’t understandable. xAx sorry for the confusing prose!! I kind of picture it like the scene in Princess Mononoke where the forest is suddenly withering and falling apart once the Forest Spirit loses its head, if you’ve ever seen it. ouo;;
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Post by ♛ Dova Soupi on May 9, 2013 21:47:19 GMT -5
adelaide dresner that feeling that doesn't go away just did [/color][/b][/i][/size] actions speech thoughts other Instant regret flooded every sensory output the mare had, flushing away all prior feeling of confidence. Whatever she had done, whether by her knowledge or without, seemed terribly, terribly wrong. Leaves shriveled and crisped. Droplets of moisture beaded on their skin before tumbling down like rain water. Every vine of the trunk coiled, toppling within itself, also blackening like some sick, infected root jutting out from whatever decay it clung too. Before the mare's very eyes a tree rotted, falling more and more within itself. Some branches snapped due to their fragility from the lack of water, tumbling down on her. Smaller twigs caught in her mane, whilst the shriveled leaves swayed down like tossed petals of celebration. Though, the chieftain couldn't help but feel this wasn't something to celebrate. What had happened? She'd never heard tale of such events occuring between Druid and tree. Had she done something horribly wrong? How would Aeon forgive her?
Horror contorted her facial features, and the mare took several steps backwards as the tree shrunk smaller and smaller, coiling and twisting on itself. All she could do was stare at it in disgust and awe. That was when she saw it, or at least, began to see it. As the tree broke down into whatever skeleton it was creating, there was a faint image Adelaide found recognizable through the entire chaos. At first, she thought it was some sick joke. Some sort of way for the tree to curse her in its afterlife. Though, the more and more the mangrove died, the more prominent the form became. A horse. A horse was materializing from twix the tree! Those were legs, and that the jowls lining the facade. Maw slightly agape, golden eyes widened in absolute, unbridled wonder. Could... could it be? Were the ancient tales of old actually fact? Time passed, and only did the truth become clearer. Before her stood not a mangrove, or what had been once a mangrove, but an equine - a Druid, long time passed a hibernation cycle. Vivid emerald eyes bore around the bog, clearly disoriented, as the first tumbling steps expected from a foal carried a six legged, handsome stallion forward, burdening the remains of the mangrove upon his shoulders.
"Wh....?
Oh by the Divines. It remembered how to talk.
"Who...? Who...are y-you?"
A lump halted all movement of her throat, and suddenly her mouth felt very dry. By the Gods, she'd nevered expected anything this extraordinary to occur in her lifetime. Yes, Aeon was a place of magic's and mysteries, but something of this degree was... indescribably difficult to fathom, even for the confident, steady-headed mare like Adelaide Dresner. For several moments she just stood there, staring at him, as if she'd never in her life witnessed a stallion, let alone a horse, before. What was she doing?! She was Adelaide Dresner! Not some dumb ass, thick skulled, easily impressed mare from across the pond! Eyes fluttered, and head snapped back a bit, physically attempting to chase away all signs of wonder and shock. Shoulders rolled, her wings cripplingly tense as they hung at her sides, longest feathers grazing the moist grounds. Clearing her throat, she straightened herself so she was far more presentable. Who knew who this stallion had been, or was, for the matter. The tales of Druids hibernating as trees had long faded from stories, therefore Adelaide didn't know when this stallion could have possibly came from. Nonetheless, respect and dignity. She must show respect and dignity!
"I am Adelaide Dresner, a Druid, much like yo'self."
Well, it wasn't exactly the best of introductions, but what else was there to say? With a frog in her throat, and a stallion who obviously had no idea where he was, it wasn't like there was a ton of clarity. They were making history, after all.
s t a t u s :: complete w o r d s :: 000+ t a g s :: hist (koosh) o o c :: epic beginning, derp ending
and I walked a thousand miles to prove it [/color][/b][/i][/size] the color of my blood is all I see on the rocks [/color][/b][/i][/size]
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Post by Koosh on Jun 18, 2013 18:18:00 GMT -5
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Shriveled leaves were still falling like some kind of sick, twisted snow, blanketing the soggy ground while the cracking of dead wood faded back into silence. A suspenseful hush drew over the surrounding. Trees leaned in as if bowed in mourning. Or benediction.
Standing amidst the rubble - well, swaying, more like - the dazed stallion tried to grapple with this latest drastic shift in his perceptions. Going from the heart of a tree to standing on his own trembling legs an understandable enough stressor, but the divorce of minds was downright traumatic. Inevitably, the stallion felt almost shrunken, withdrawn from the towering reach of branches and roots to the contained, limited form of an equine. The senses, too were different; touch was diminished, and sight was an altogether new experience after over a thousand years.
As he stood there, struggling with his own neural pathways, a small part of the creature’s mind noted the retreat of the other, the slow backing away of someone startled, or perhaps horrified. Sluggishly, his heavy head lifted, vivid green eyes scrolling across the scene. Everything lagged, like the image feed was on a delay; it took the stag a drawn-out moment of staring for him to truly see the sight of his former shell scattered like so much blasted flotsam. An accent-heavy voice dripped into the air, and the stallion’s dark ears pricked with curiosity. A Druid. A Druid. The title brought back a surge of emotion, a feeling of loss, touched with deep pride and even deeper sadness. There were most certainly a good deal of things missing, but his role as a Druid was central to his identity, the the very core of his being.
“Hisss...” he made a stab at speaking, at dropping the first word to come to mind. After all, a lady had greeted him, offered her name and position, and it would be outrageously rude to remain silent. “...ist. H... Hist.” Clumsily, the single sibilant syllable fell from his lips, and he bobbed his head in a reassuring gesture. “I, am... Hist. Dru... id. Druid, yeh.” He coughed, trying out his legs again with a slightly more confident step forward. This time, he barely wavered. “Ya woke me, yeh? Frahm druid’s... sleep. Yeh have me thanks.” Blinking away the last of his bleariness, Hist dropped his head respectfully to the other Druid, both left forelegs stretching forward in the gesture.
status: complete words: 403. music: Journey OST - Austin Wintory tagged: Adda & Soupi. Closed. notes: really, really rough muse on this, eurgh. hoping to get back into the swing of things.
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Post by ♛ Dova Soupi on Jul 8, 2013 10:29:08 GMT -5
adelaide dresner that feeling that doesn't go away just did [/color][/b][/i][/size] actions speech thoughts other Swaying, as if he were still stuck in the mental fog of a tree, the stallion attempted to collect the world around him, absorb what had just transpired. All of his movements were heavy, sluggish, and took their time. Adelaide could hardly believe the trauma he had just endured, being ripped from the only lifeless, mundane world he knew back into the everyday struggle of an equid. Vivid emeralds glanced up to Adelaide, staring at her, examining her, as if his brain could not fathom the idea of a living creature, or at least the idea of seeing one. Inhaling, the chieftain calmed her quickly firing nerves that had crippled her muscles with tension, allowing it freedom slowly and steadily, succeeding in her personal affair. Had he meant harm, which she hadn't even considered until now, the stallion would have had much more vigor or desire, possibly even attempting a sloppy try at her.
"Hissss.......ist. H... Hist. I, am... Hist. Dru... id. Druid, yeh.”
The trees around them shook with both anger and celebration. While there were the that were enraged to lose their long time Druid symbiotic friend, others rejoyced that he was returned to the world in which he was born, to live the life he was denied whilst in his eternal sleep. They fogged Adelaide's mind, a pounding headache resulting in their massive onslaught of thoughts and calls causing her pain. Eventually, Adelaide slowly shut down her mental net, apologizing to the trees, and shut them out until they settled, at least.
“Ya woke me, yeh? Frahm druid’s... sleep. Yeh have me thanks.”
With a slow dip of her facade, Adelaide provided the stallion with a genuine physical sign of appreciation. The familiar sound of the Aeonian's thick brogue brought some relief to Adelaide, knowing that they shared in their homage and motherland, seemingly making their connection as a druid stronger. She'd yet to share time with a fellow with similar powers, therefore he was all the more intriguing to her, whom knew the extensive powers of the Druids, and surely would not flee.
"Der is no need ta thank me, Hist. For all I knew, yo did not want ta beh awoken."
[/b] s t a t u s :: complete w o r d s :: 400+ t a g s :: hist (koosh) o o c :: so late ;-; [/color][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size][/font] and I walked a thousand miles to prove it [/color][/b][/i][/size] the color of my blood is all I see on the rocks [/color][/b][/i][/size]
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Post by Koosh on Jul 9, 2013 20:02:12 GMT -5
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For the stretch of several long, almost awkwardly quiet moments, Hist stood - still swaying slightly - while the deep brown mare seemed to consider the situation carefully. The druidic stallion was only just starting to realize exactly how odd, how alarming his “birthing” scene might have been to her. Adelaide. Not just “her.” Some small part of his mind considered his own personal state, surprised that he was doing as well as he seemed to be, all things considered. Taken as he was from such an immersive existence with the flora of the bog, and so abruptly, there ought to have been some mental, some emotional trauma. But perhaps it was the remnant of his previous host; the smaller mangrove twisting, seemingly thriving, out of his own body. Beneath that, too, was the remainder of his connection to the other trees, the given ability of a druid. Even now, the trees spoke to him, their whispery voices lent more power after the dramatic collapse of their former brethren.
They clamored noisily, and Hist found himself instinctively “turning the volume down” on the connection, letting the murmurs lap gently against the back of his mind. It was peaceful, soothing, and familiar enough to put him at ease. The stallion sighed, letting his attention wander back to Adelaide. Her voice washed over him, triggering his ears to perk and eyes to brighten as her thick accent dripped into the air like molten honey. It tugged at his memory tantalizingly, to hear the way she clipped hard consonants and drawled certain sounds. His own voice, when he spoke, carried similar nuances, though altered, almost distilled, by the thousand-year gap in their ages. “It be a pleasure t’ meet ya, Adelaide.” Conscious that she may yet mistrust him, Hist eased forward a handful of steps toward her. “T’ own da truth, Ad, I never knew I was a-sleepin’. Bein’ wif da trees, yeh, it be... different.”
Tickled as his mind was by the sound of her native Aeonian accent, the stallion’s head tilted while a pair of names, and the connotations behind them, drifted into his mind’s eye. “Tell me, now -” he carefully put a smile onto his mug, though the expression felt stiff and unfamiliar, “- who be Lords o’ th’ Clans? Gascti? Loxacin? Are da Tree-Speakers still livin’ in da Deep Bog?” His curiosity about the Clans was barely rudimentary; all he recalled of their ways was violence and dissidence, foul things that their intrusion brought into the once-peaceful realm of the druids. And while he couldn’t precisely remember their leaders’ names, perhaps being reminded might spur his memory further. What he was really after was knowledge of the name that remained lodged in his mind, niggling like a loose tooth. It had to be important. A vital clue that needed uncovering. But whether Adelaide could help him, he didn’t know.
status: complete words: 499. music: TA.TA.RI.GA.MI - Princess Mononoke OST (Joe Hisaishi) tagged: Adda. notes: no problemo darlin, take your time! :3
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Post by ♛ Dova Soupi on Sept 3, 2013 18:33:25 GMT -5
adelaide dresner that feeling that doesn't go away just did [/color][/b][/i][/size] actions speech thoughts other Ghostly, looming steps brought the stallion forward after regaining his composure. The world fell into an illusion of speed while Adelaide regarded the lumbering creature. The flitting birds seemed to dart with increase fever, the winds coming quicker than was typical. Even the rustling of other creatures frequented at a noticable rate. In the center, the Sleeper, awakening after what must have been years of Druid's time, lost in a limbo only known to their kind. Eventually, he spoke, claiming ground between them. Adelaide Dresner merely stood still, and strong, in response.
“It be a pleasure t’ meet ya, Adelaide. “T’ own da truth, Ad, I never knew I was a-sleepin’. Bein’ wif da trees, yeh, it be... different.”
His lack of knowledge didn't fall surprising, though Adelaide would be lying if she stated she knew exactly what he was transcribing. Perhaps it was an inner understanding from her powers that allowed her to follow with such empathetic reasoning. Golden flecked eyes glanced him up and down one more time, debating the idea if she wished to open up her mind to the foliage around, though she feared their uproar. Regardless, Adelaide offered him a nod of acknowledgement and understanding, though her expression transformed into an intrigued neutrality.
“Tell me now, who be Lords o’ th’ Clans? Gascti? Loxacin? Are da Tree-Speakers still livin’ in da Deep Bog?”
Well, that answered some questions. He knew of the clans, good, he was not so ancient as she had fleetingly considered, but he had been sleeping enough to lack the knowledge that the Deep Bog druids has disappeared many years ago, far before even her father had found his purchase upon these lands - perhaps far longer than his own father. She had only heard stories. And, during those times, there were just the two clans - obvious, that he failed to mention the others. Adelaide instantly knew that this would be a delicate subject to tread. Though he'd dealt remarkably well with such a traumatic experience so far, it was not clear that he would take to the vast amounts of changes as lightly. Rolling her shoulders, her stunted and mutilated wing adjusting at her sides, the dark bay mare settled her mind and lifted her mug ever so slightly.
"Deh clans are still prominent, yis. Loxacin is currently under the rule of Beautiful Disaster, long lost out of Azazel's family. Gascti is mine own. I am chieftess, and have been for some time. Zequatel's rule fell to a Loxacin raid."
She paused a moment, studying his expressions for a reaction, and allowing to let the current information sink in. She would be surprised if she knew any of the names she spoke.
"I do apologize, der are no longer Treespeakers in da Deep Bog, at least, none ta be seen. Dough, der are a'so more changes. T'almic and Selisona have emerged among the tribes, some time 'fore I was born. Dey are ruled by Aristotle an' Grimoire 'Eart, respectively.
Once agains she fell silent, drawing her wings closer as well as lower her lead slightly, her golden eyes sparkling slightly, waiting...
⦿ s t a t u s :: complete ⦿ w o r d s :: 400+ ⦿ t a g s :: hist (koosh) ⦿ o o c :: to long of a wait to even apologize for
and I walked a thousand miles to prove it [/color][/b][/i][/size] the color of my blood is all I see on the rocks [/color][/b][/i][/size]
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