Re: Down in the Den
Posted: Sat Jan 11, 2014 1:20 am
She sat alone upon the hill; she'd found that many of these pockets of insight occurred while she was alone. Songhue wondered at that, to some extent, and yet on another level merely accepted it. Perhaps she could best hear her guide when all was still around her. Perhaps she could best hear herself, in the same moments.
Creatures went missing all the time; that was the way the multiverse worked. Sometimes, they were simply gone. No bodies, no farewells; vanished. In some places, within some cultures, they would be searched for; in others it wouldn't even spark a thought.
She was wondering which she might be, should she vanish. Would anyone seek her? Would there even be notice?
It was a fair question and at least slightly more than vain. In was her way that while she could be fond of other creatures, could even love them, she did not lose sight of who they were. She saw them in their entirety; every difference, every perceived flaw, all aspects that came together to make this being what it was. It was merely how she was; she kept the scales, held the balance. None would get so close as to lose the sharp edge of reality. Even her own cubs; they were not merely her precious younglings. They never could be.
In some way they would always mean no more to her than the young of any other, their appeal based solely on ability and behavior.
It was a fact that did not often trouble her; and yet she realized that, in light of the balance, she may not be able to grow as close to others as she may have. Her own natural reserve could easily hinder having anyone truly, blindly care for her. Would this mean that should she be missing, her absence would merely be accepted? In all honesty, she wasn't sure what she thought of such a possibility.
The valley spread out beneath her as she pondered, the shimmering starlight seeming to ripple in time with her shifting thoughts. It was a beautiful land; her aunt's land, deceptively simple looking. For a time her aunt had faded from her life; her mind twisted at the memory, unable to make any sort of sensible impression of the time. She'd thought of her aunt, of course, for a time. But only for a time; eventually she thought the great weaver of community to be sleeping, a rest so deep and long that she forgot herself and all else. It happened; they would enter a realm and become so enamored with their little games of passing through the land that they forgot their reality.
Some went so deep as to never wake up.
She'd thought such was the case; that her aunt had foregone being a Strangeling. So she released her from her mind. Let her sleep, as long as she had peace. Not all wished to hold to their history. Not all had such strength.
Even still she wasn't entirely sure she'd been mistaken. Although found again, the old ties reforged and strengthened, having thankfully never been severed, retaining a talent was not the same as remembering. But it was more than resting dangerously deep.
Songhue loved her aunt; she knew that. She remembered being young and begging for another story. Remembered when anger and confusion were quickly mollified by a simple touch from this monolithic figure of talent. Once in particular, she'd tried to prove herself capable of taking care of herself during her wanderings; she loved to explore while young and would often wander too far in her study of herbs and energies, following the whispers of the wind. She failed spectacularly of course; the memory brought a wry grin to her lips as she considered it. She was decent for her age, and yet the sudden perspective of just how different she still was from those who had fully grown into their abilities had unsettled her.
It was her aunt that had steadied her. She was a bit spacey even then, always with one ear to the stars as she kept a fiercely protective watch over everyone. She could settle any dispute; or so the young Songhue believed. Nothing was beyond this creature's abilities.
Yet she'd simply accepted this cherished figure's absence. There was nothing quite so much as pining for her, which is what she assumed was meant when one referred to 'missing' someone. She noted the absence and would spare a thought upon occasion, little more. The absence simply was; take the fact and move forward. Build a Clan that would take an active interest in more than drifting and playing dressup. She tired of this ill-fitting meatsack, whichever one she wore for whichever realm currently lent her strength; perhaps there were others yet who wished for more than oblivion.
So she wondered; were she missing, had she slept, would she be missed? Did she matter in earnest, or did she drag along those few left to her in her attempt to have a proper home? Would her absence, the lack of such efforts, be counted a loss?
Or could she also be so easily released, a fact to observe, accept, and move beyond as they went ever onward?
A damp bit of moisture struck her shoulder, though she didn't stir; she knew who had found her, even as the questions stirred deep in her stomach. Few could track her down so easily; Kri'Kahli, the Thunder Horse. The mare seemed reluctant to leave her to such moments of solitude; perhaps fearing what introspective occurrences may develop.
The mare didn't speak; she had no need. She, like the Strangelings, had no use for properly formed words. Sensations, emotions, impressions, half-formed ideas wavered through the air, as easily understood as the touch of the wind.
I wonder as well, they said, the emotions sinking straight into Songhue's being as if she herself experienced them. After so much loss, could the absence of one more soul be noted?
The thought came to her that, perhaps, it was the previous loss that would highlight another's absence. Perhaps it would be that another to vanish would be sorely felt indeed, one of precious few. The concept floated in the air, easily picked up by her companion as the massive mare folded her legs to lay next to the Strangeling she'd chosen to serve.
A sense of companionship settled with Kri's blue-gray bulk; each realized that, if naught else, the other would hold their memory. It wasn't being missed, didn't tell them if they mattered in the end. But at least they would not be forgotten, washed away by the tides of time.
They could have that. They could be held on to by their memory, through one another and perhaps still others.
With barely a flicker of movement Songhue rested one long fingered hand on Kri's shoulder as they sat and watched the starlight ripple across the valley; a silent thanks. The pondering had been turned from morose to intimate through her friend's companionship, something that was becoming a bit of a regular event. Part of her considered interference from her Guide; but no, it was her Guide who helped her to make such discoveries. It was Kri who helped to steady her.
It seemed she always needed someone to steady her, be it aunt or others. She smiled, just slightly; she was okay with that. It was what they were for, to rely on one another. She relied on them for perspective more than anything else, something she found no shame in.
Maybe she didn't matter, maybe there would be no withered souls or shattered hearts should she suddenly cease to be; yet she was loved, for all of that. And she was okay with that, too. She'd need little more.
Creatures went missing all the time; that was the way the multiverse worked. Sometimes, they were simply gone. No bodies, no farewells; vanished. In some places, within some cultures, they would be searched for; in others it wouldn't even spark a thought.
She was wondering which she might be, should she vanish. Would anyone seek her? Would there even be notice?
It was a fair question and at least slightly more than vain. In was her way that while she could be fond of other creatures, could even love them, she did not lose sight of who they were. She saw them in their entirety; every difference, every perceived flaw, all aspects that came together to make this being what it was. It was merely how she was; she kept the scales, held the balance. None would get so close as to lose the sharp edge of reality. Even her own cubs; they were not merely her precious younglings. They never could be.
In some way they would always mean no more to her than the young of any other, their appeal based solely on ability and behavior.
It was a fact that did not often trouble her; and yet she realized that, in light of the balance, she may not be able to grow as close to others as she may have. Her own natural reserve could easily hinder having anyone truly, blindly care for her. Would this mean that should she be missing, her absence would merely be accepted? In all honesty, she wasn't sure what she thought of such a possibility.
The valley spread out beneath her as she pondered, the shimmering starlight seeming to ripple in time with her shifting thoughts. It was a beautiful land; her aunt's land, deceptively simple looking. For a time her aunt had faded from her life; her mind twisted at the memory, unable to make any sort of sensible impression of the time. She'd thought of her aunt, of course, for a time. But only for a time; eventually she thought the great weaver of community to be sleeping, a rest so deep and long that she forgot herself and all else. It happened; they would enter a realm and become so enamored with their little games of passing through the land that they forgot their reality.
Some went so deep as to never wake up.
She'd thought such was the case; that her aunt had foregone being a Strangeling. So she released her from her mind. Let her sleep, as long as she had peace. Not all wished to hold to their history. Not all had such strength.
Even still she wasn't entirely sure she'd been mistaken. Although found again, the old ties reforged and strengthened, having thankfully never been severed, retaining a talent was not the same as remembering. But it was more than resting dangerously deep.
Songhue loved her aunt; she knew that. She remembered being young and begging for another story. Remembered when anger and confusion were quickly mollified by a simple touch from this monolithic figure of talent. Once in particular, she'd tried to prove herself capable of taking care of herself during her wanderings; she loved to explore while young and would often wander too far in her study of herbs and energies, following the whispers of the wind. She failed spectacularly of course; the memory brought a wry grin to her lips as she considered it. She was decent for her age, and yet the sudden perspective of just how different she still was from those who had fully grown into their abilities had unsettled her.
It was her aunt that had steadied her. She was a bit spacey even then, always with one ear to the stars as she kept a fiercely protective watch over everyone. She could settle any dispute; or so the young Songhue believed. Nothing was beyond this creature's abilities.
Yet she'd simply accepted this cherished figure's absence. There was nothing quite so much as pining for her, which is what she assumed was meant when one referred to 'missing' someone. She noted the absence and would spare a thought upon occasion, little more. The absence simply was; take the fact and move forward. Build a Clan that would take an active interest in more than drifting and playing dressup. She tired of this ill-fitting meatsack, whichever one she wore for whichever realm currently lent her strength; perhaps there were others yet who wished for more than oblivion.
So she wondered; were she missing, had she slept, would she be missed? Did she matter in earnest, or did she drag along those few left to her in her attempt to have a proper home? Would her absence, the lack of such efforts, be counted a loss?
Or could she also be so easily released, a fact to observe, accept, and move beyond as they went ever onward?
A damp bit of moisture struck her shoulder, though she didn't stir; she knew who had found her, even as the questions stirred deep in her stomach. Few could track her down so easily; Kri'Kahli, the Thunder Horse. The mare seemed reluctant to leave her to such moments of solitude; perhaps fearing what introspective occurrences may develop.
The mare didn't speak; she had no need. She, like the Strangelings, had no use for properly formed words. Sensations, emotions, impressions, half-formed ideas wavered through the air, as easily understood as the touch of the wind.
I wonder as well, they said, the emotions sinking straight into Songhue's being as if she herself experienced them. After so much loss, could the absence of one more soul be noted?
The thought came to her that, perhaps, it was the previous loss that would highlight another's absence. Perhaps it would be that another to vanish would be sorely felt indeed, one of precious few. The concept floated in the air, easily picked up by her companion as the massive mare folded her legs to lay next to the Strangeling she'd chosen to serve.
A sense of companionship settled with Kri's blue-gray bulk; each realized that, if naught else, the other would hold their memory. It wasn't being missed, didn't tell them if they mattered in the end. But at least they would not be forgotten, washed away by the tides of time.
They could have that. They could be held on to by their memory, through one another and perhaps still others.
With barely a flicker of movement Songhue rested one long fingered hand on Kri's shoulder as they sat and watched the starlight ripple across the valley; a silent thanks. The pondering had been turned from morose to intimate through her friend's companionship, something that was becoming a bit of a regular event. Part of her considered interference from her Guide; but no, it was her Guide who helped her to make such discoveries. It was Kri who helped to steady her.
It seemed she always needed someone to steady her, be it aunt or others. She smiled, just slightly; she was okay with that. It was what they were for, to rely on one another. She relied on them for perspective more than anything else, something she found no shame in.
Maybe she didn't matter, maybe there would be no withered souls or shattered hearts should she suddenly cease to be; yet she was loved, for all of that. And she was okay with that, too. She'd need little more.