FOLKLORE


contemplation
#1

俺は戦場で光る。ー鷹真田
Gentle humming vibrated in his throat, but it would not be heard for the hushed melody was but a candle in the hurricane of the falls. His steps were idle as he strolled through the sparse grassland, mud and grass mercifully solid underneath his paws, hard-baked by the scorching sun. The heavens were tinged pink and purple, a harbinger of twilight, colouring the spun gold of dried grasses rosy and his ebony pelt copper. Drifting glance would wander towards the line where the earth ended and where one, if they dared to peer over the edge, would see the rushing water crashing into the pool at the bottom.

His gaze then glanced at the ascending moon and stars, wondering if he should seek shelter for the night. His humming died as he halted his walk, reluctant to start looking. Instead, his form reclined into a sit and his head turned to where the cliffs broke the earth, his mind blissfully blank. Last few weeks had been difficult, a heavy, depressing burden upon his shoulders, and he wondered if it was possible to run far and far away from his troubles, when they only pained him. He felt lonely. Funny that, for he had been alone many times in his life and rarely if ever, felt the sting of loneliness. It was crueller than he had imagined. In his isolation, he sang again, the vibrating melody soothing to his own ears.


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@Anaïs
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#2

honeysuckle
for your pleasant dreams.
Sapphire stares unflinchingly at the depths below the cliffs, watching as the waters from that place tumble over the edge with a cacophonous roar. She dares not look behind her in fear that she might stir up the vivid, unwanted memories of the day when she left him. Ever since, she had never returned and with the settlement of some pack, it gave her all the more reason not to revisit it. The mere thought of the Tears has a bitter taste forming on her tongue and with difficulty, she swallows.

She remembers the first time she had visited these rapids, mere days (or perhaps it had been weeks) after. She remembers wanting to follow the path downwards. She remembers Lachlan. And she remembers falling.

A sharp laugh punches out of her as she compares herself then and now. Nothing has changed, not really; except then, she had not known Lachlan. Her residence with him is a transaction; they aren't friends; how could they be? At the end of the day, she is still the same, weak and alone.

How did it come to this? she asks herself. What had she done that had led to losing everything? Raising her head to look at the dimming sky, she wishes so very deeply that she could return to the moment where she had made that wrong choice and change everything.

But she knows that that is impossible and she must face the consequences. Galadriel is gone; she had lost him once when she left him; then once had become forever. ( She chokes when the truth hits her for the umpteenth time, still unable to handle it. )

She gathers herself, however. Despite her own inability to become better, there is hope. Lachlan had made her a promise and things are different as she stands upon the edge. She will not fall tonight.

The rushing of the rapids suddenly carry the faintest of tunes beneath the atonal noise as moments pass by. It is unclear as the voice fades in and out but in her own silence and adjustment to the loud crashes of water, she is sure that someone is singing. Her ears flicker, searching for the source as she looks both ways along the margin. It takes a few seconds before she spots him, the remaining light of day betraying his location before he is engulfed by the darkness upon his pelt.

His deep countenance would explain why she hadn't noticed him thus far, she remarks internally as she squints to see him better. Slowly moving towards the male, she tries to scent him, only to catch very little of anything important.

Drawing nearer, she stops a few lengths away, hoping that it would be enough to see who he is. He seems familiar, but she can't pinpoint anything conclusive. For a split second, she thinks it is Lachlan, the dark pelt and amber eyes clear signs that it would be him but on second look, she realises it isn't.

( Of course it isn't. Why would Lachlan be here? And singing.)

Perplexed, she wants to call out but to interrupt his song would be a shame...
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@Sanada
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#3

俺は戦場で光る。ー鷹真田
Wordless melody flowed from his lips, following the rhythm of private music, and it filled the emptiness of his mind. The familiarity of it parted grey clouds that seemed to hang over him, bringing forth a gentle fall of sunlight to warm him. Memories of his mother's lullaby drifted over him; the soft cadence of her voice rose to liven the empty night, lulling her sons to sleep. He had not been lonely then, with the comfort of his mother's body curling around him and the sounds of his brothers' breathing in his ear. Sensations of life, and of companionship. Oh, how he had taken it for granted. His melodic tones dipped as words of his mother's lullaby came forth in whispers.

In his song, he painted a world as envisaged by the Mother, filled with lush greenery, starry skies, and harmonious lives. Her children living idyllic days under a warm spring sun. He sang of a peaceful world.

His voice slowed to a halt, however, when he felt an eerie sensation of being watched. Turning his head towards a lone wolf dressed in golds and creams, a tiny frown would appear upon his expression as the sight stirred his memories but he could not immediately recall her face. Just as she had stared, he stared at her. Only when eyes of orange brushed against blue would memories come rushing towards him. The bear hunt, of course. That day was when he first encountered Cairo and Nassar Tiamat. But their faces were unimportant at this time; only this woman came forth, yet her name escaped his reach. "Uh, I remember you," he canted his head sheepishly, wondering if she would remember him as well, "but not your name."


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@Anaïs
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#4

honeysuckle
for your pleasant dreams.
He sings a song that she is unfamiliar with—not that she had heard that many in the first place, but the foreign melody holds her in quiet contemplation. His lyrics are hopeful and the vision he conjures strikes a bittersweet chord within her as she tries to imagine it. An idyllic life of the Mother and Her children... What would that be like?

The mention of the Mother piques her interest, recalling that she falls under Her supposed radiance if Ash's words are still to be trusted. Even now, she admits flippantly, she does not understand the significance of the stars and what strange influence they have upon the inhabitants of Cyrileth. Although in saying that, if they could live in a world as perfect as the one he evokes, it would be lovely. Head lifting to look at the sky, she searches for some resemblance to anything that could be described as 'motherly' and finds nothing in the scattered mosaic. Exhaling through her nose, she wonders sceptically, how does one even tell what is 'The Mother' anyway?

The question goes unanswered when her attention returns back to the male who has stopped his song. Orange catches blue and she blinks, a sudden sense of recognition passing through her. Eyes narrowing slightly, she frowns as she scents the air. Memories begin to return at the familiar bouquet and her expression brightens when the one of the hunt resurfaces. He seems to have realised the same when he speaks first, confirming that, indeed, they have met before. Twice, in fact, as she begins to recall even more of their encounters.

"Oh," she breathes, flustered nonetheless at the impromptu meeting. "Yes, hello." An awkward but genuine smile curls crookedly on her face, curbed by the unexpected inflow of happiness and nervousness all at once. "Anaïs." she offers, tongue almost catching on her own name in her haste to introduce herself. "And you?"
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