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Falling: An Epic Fantasy

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posted on Jun, 5 2017 @ 10:04 PM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd

Yay I got caught up! Wonderful entry dear Shep!!!!

posted on Jun, 6 2017 @ 09:14 AM
a reply to: Night Star

Thank you, Night Star. Shall we see what happens next?

posted on Jun, 6 2017 @ 09:16 AM
List of Characters in Falling
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88 - Not For Anyone

“You are right, of course, Maera. Thank you.”

The two of them worked quickly to arrange Siere’s hair and see to her appearance. Discreetly Siere removed the day’s dirt from the hem of her dress with
tamborae. Strictly speaking, she was not supposed to use tamborae in such a vain fashion. While it didn’t technically violate the Precepts of the Covenant, Meioshi Caran was adamant about reserving the use of tamborae for “efforts worthy of the Merciful Father’s precious gift.” What the Meioshi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him in this instance.

In short order, they were ready for Lord Deneral. They made their way to the parlor, and Maera left to retrieve Siere’s guest.

She paced.
Don’t pace. She sat down. No, that would wrinkle her skirts. She stood up. Unable to stand still, she paced again. She shouldn’t pace. She would seem nervous. Or worse, upset. She started to sit down again. Stop it, Siere!

When Maera returned, she stepped inside as she opened the door wide. “My Lady Meron, Lord Eibal Deneral to see you,” she said formally.

“Thank you, Maera. That will be all.” Her stomach fluttered, and her breathing was fast and shallow.

“Of course, my lady.”

Eibal smiled as he entered. “Lovely as the dawn, Lady Meron, as always.” He shook his head slightly. He seemed wistful to Siere, gentle and quiet today. His
kir shined dully in the light of the late afternoon sun.

“Please, call me Siere, and thank you, Eibal,” she replied pointedly. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

Eibal hesitated. “I – I was in the area, and thought I should call.”

He seems nervous. Then an idea hit her. Dear Aomm, have Lady Deneral and Mother worked out an arrangement? Her heart skipped a beat. A proposal? Today? Lady Siere Meron im Deneral. She floated in the thought.

“That is most fortunate. I was thinking of you--”

“I have been thinking--” he said at the same time.

“Please, you start--” They both offered.

Siere chuckled, and Eibal said, “I insist, you first.”
He must be very nervous, he won’t meet my eyes for more than a moment.

“Very well. All day today, I’ve been thinking of the times you and I have spent together. You make me laugh, and we have – we have fun together. And, well, I realized –“ She hesitated.
What on Geaomm am I saying? I am rambling. “I – I realized that, ah –“

“Siere --”

“Please, let me finish. I realized -- that I –“
Why does this have to be so bloody hard? He’s going to propose! Tell him!

“Siere –“ he interrupted again.

“I love you, Eibal. I do.” There, she had said it. “You are wonderful to me, you make me feel --”

“Siere, our courtship cannot continue,” he said in a rush.

“So very –- what did you say?”

“Our courtship cannot continue. I don’t love you. Not like that. I -–“ he trailed off. “I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

Siere’s breathing went shallow. She felt a surge in her chest.
I will not cry here! I am not some silly girl! Her throat tightened as her eyes started to betray her with tears, but she fought them like a cornered hillcat. She turned toward the double doors leading to the courtyard anteroom, away from him, and gently used tamborae to wipe them. The gentle brush of air felt like angels’ feathers on her eyes.

“Oh,” she got out, softly, “I see. Of course, you must follow your heart.”

I could Compel him, she thought, force him to… No. Steel formed inside her, cold and bitter, and she straightened. No! She had power no man could dream of, and this boy was not even her equal by station. She would not show weakness in front of any man. A deep, silent breath, filling her lungs with cool evening air. It would not do for him to hear her calm herself. She would show no weakness. Not for him. Not for anyone.

She turned and looked him square in the eyes. “Thank you for being honest with me. You may take your leave now, Lord Deneral.”

“Siere, I –“ he began.

“You will address me as Lady Meron, as is proper. Good evening, Lord Deneral.”

Not for anyone.

posted on Jun, 6 2017 @ 11:56 AM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd

posted on Jun, 6 2017 @ 12:23 PM
a reply to: Night Star

LOL - such an awesome pic.

This episode is sort of a defining moment for Siere. She is hurt by Eibal's refusal, more than she is willing to admit. Wait until the next episode - the aftermath of Eibal ending his courtship with Siere is not quite complete, yet.

posted on Jun, 6 2017 @ 12:27 PM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd

Oooooh, I'll be waiting patiently.

posted on Jun, 7 2017 @ 09:00 AM
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89 - A Stern Rebuke

She didn’t remember much else of the afternoon after Eibal’s departure, other than locking herself in her room and sobbing silently into her pillow until she was summoned to come down for the evening meal. She knew she would not sleep well so she resolved to attempt treatment on some of the patients in the infirmary, in the east wing of the manor, after retiring that evening. Eibal had married a daughter of one of the other Holds not long after that. There had been a scandal where he had been caught with the girl, and her mother made a demand that he be given to their family. So it was with nobility in the Eastern Holdlands. The Book of Voices was a big part of life back home, and there were very strict rules about such things.

Siere’s mother had burst in on her that night after dinner. Siere remembered being unnecessarily harsh to the estate’s staff, and Eveleta had surely come to deliver a stern rebuke.

Siere attacked the tome Meioshi Caran assigned with a vengeance after dinner. She still seethed at the indignant faces of the servants she had dressed down that afternoon. She expected them to do their bloody jobs. There would always be someone else who could perform their duties correctly if they could not or would not.

There was a perfunctory knock just before the door to her apartments opened and her mother entered.

“What is the matter with you?” she began subtly. Her mother was from a deeply traditional family, and spoke with a light Caimree accent.

“Good evening, Mother,” Siere responded, expressionless. “Nothing is the matter.”

Siere knew her mother was fascinated with
tamborae. Right this moment, though, she had no sympathy for her mother’s curiosity. The constant questions and pressure for details - how could she explain it to someone who had no ability with tamborae to understand any of it? At times, you could almost feel Aomm the One. She reread a few lines, then reached out with tamborae.

“What are you doing?” Eveleta asked somewhat less acerbically now.

Siere ignored her, her mind deep in the examination of one of the patients.

“Siere, what are you doing?”

After a few more moments, Siere’s mind returned to her body, and she focused on her mother.

“I am trying to heal one of Meioshi Caran’s patients in the east wing.”

“From here?”

Tamborae’s reach is far, Mother. Is there anything else?”

“Yes, what’s wrong? You are upset.”

“Nothing is wrong, Mother. What makes you think I’m upset?” She looked down at the book again.

“Don’t evade me, girl. I know you better than you know yourself.”

“I hardly think that is true, Mother. Or have you suddenly developed talent in Aomm’s Gift?”

Siere raised her eyes to her mother flatly. She may as well have slapped Eveleta in the face, and she knew it, but she didn’t care right now. Her mother’s shocked eyes narrowed, considering Siere. “Siere, this is not you,” she said, the edge in her voice fading.

“How would you know what is me?” she snapped. “You don’t know me. No one does!” Anger had blossomed in her heart. She didn’t know where it came from but she could not tame it.

“Tell me what is wrong.”

“I told you.
Nothing is wrong. Please leave me alone. I have work to do!” She let her voice rise. Something terrible inside her wanted to break free, to be released.

“Siere,” Eveleta started toward the table. Siere stood abruptly, shoving her chair back. She didn’t want comfort, she wanted to destroy, she wanted to scream. Her mother’s approach somehow seemed threatening. Part of her wanted to attack, and part of her wanted to run.

“Child, what has happened?” Eveleta asked, alarm bright in her voice.

“I am
not a child! Nothing has happened! Go away! Can’t you just let me work?” She shouted.

“Not like this. You can help everyone but yourself, can’t you?”

“I DON’T NEED HELP!” She screamed, and the dam broke. All her hurt poured out in raging torrent. “I DON’T NEED YOU, I DON’T NEED ANYONE! WHY WON’T YOU LEAVE ME ALONE?” She burst into tears.

Eveleta rushed in to engulf her daughter in a great embrace. It was as though her hurt and anger were the only things keeping her upright, but they had collapsed and she sagged in her mother’s arms. “Shhh, child,” Eveleta said, standing and holding her, slowly stroking her long dark hair.

“He doesn’t want me, Mama,” she sobbed into her mother’s shoulder. “Why doesn’t he want me? They always go, all of them. Am I so awful?”

Eveleta had held Siere in the quiet of the night, long after First Moon had risen. While Siere slept, she had stayed in her room that night, fending off servants to protect her daughter from prying eyes and minds. There was not much else she could do, of course. A mother’s love could not mend a broken heart. But Siere knew that she was not forgotten in perfect Baelina’s large shadow.

She found herself there more than just that time, also. There had been other suitors, other men. Her mother had always been there, every time, even years later when Siere had returned from her mission in Hundal, devastated and mourning, heartbroken once more. It had been her mother, more than anyone else who picked her up, who put her pieces back together. She had always been doted on by her father, she had always been Alaniten’s little princess - they were alike in many ways, that was true - but it was her mother who taught her what it meant to be a woman, strong, resilient, unbreakable. “A woman is stronger than a man because she is pliable, child. She knows when to bend, when to flow around obstacles. We are like the red goenen tree. Its roots go deep, and can break rock apart in time. It bends when the wind howls, but does not break. Men are rigid. They are like the ironthorn. They stand tall, and straight, and their wood inside is hard and resists the carpenter. But when the storm comes, they crack and fall. Men can be broken.”

What would she do without her mother? The walls of her world were coming apart, as if the cement that held them together was no longer viable. Silently, she began to weep.
edit on 6-7-2017 by PrairieShepherd because: (no reason given)

posted on Jun, 7 2017 @ 12:47 PM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd

Oh that was wonderful! I could really feel her emotions as though I were there, as though I was her.

posted on Jun, 7 2017 @ 01:14 PM
a reply to: Night Star
Thank you, Night Star.

It's interesting - I originally wrote that scene from Eveleta's perspective - Siere's mother. But it didn't work in the storyline since it was Siere's scene and we haven't even really met Eveleta yet. So I rewrote it from her perspective - I think it works both ways.

But this way, you get to see a very human element of Siere - she has all this power, talent, and even good looks, but still thinks somehow something is terribly wrong with her and that others do not want to be around her.

posted on Jun, 7 2017 @ 02:24 PM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd

Which I think turned out perfectly. Glad you went about it with that perspective.

posted on Jun, 8 2017 @ 12:41 PM
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90 - Caan and Ashu

Gaalen and Seeress Meron sat on one of the stone benches ringing the training yard. It was about halfway through their morning training, and Gaalen had called a halt to take water and a short rest. This morning, he had put the Seeress through a rigorous set of exercises designed to push a cadet to their limit.

Her exquisite pale skin was flushed, and her sweat made dark patches on her training attire. The early-autumn heat wave was making the morning oppressively hot and humid already. It would be a day for light work and plenty of drinks.

“I am grateful to you, Lord Captain, for training me as you do,” she said, sweat dripping down her cheek.

“Truly, your Grace, you are an excellent student,” he assured her.

“Someday I would repay the favor, if you are willing. I do not like being obligated to anyone,” she said.

“Seeress, you owe me nothing, I consider this part of my duty,” he said matter of factly. “Besides, I’m no Worker, so what is it that you can teach me? I already know basic field medicine. Unless you’d like to lecture on the Book of Voices?” he asked with a smile.

“So you know everything, do you? What about tamborae? What do you know about Aomm’s Gift?”

“More than I really care to,” he said with a grimace, tapping his kir.

She studied him for a moment. Then abruptly, she took on a teaching tone.

“There are two forms of tamborae. Caan is the physical form – it can affect the physical world as we know it. Caan can be used to move earth, to harden air, freeze water, and to sculpt sand into glass. But caan can also capture lightning, channel thunder, and harness the sun’s light. To use caan, you must study the natural world to understand how Aomm’s Garden works, then you can apply it correctly.”

Gaalen listened politely, but his mind wandered. He imagined catapults launching thunder at the enemy, or fortress walls made of lightning. It seemed impossible.

“The second form of tamborae is ashu. This is the spirit form. It affects the world of the Unseen, the world of Aomm, his dominions, and angels. With it you can view faraway places, see the thoughts of others, and defend against Ngak and his spawn.

“But the greatest achievements can only be done when they are combined. With caan and ashu together, you can heal others, defend against the spiritual minions of Ngak, and discern the possibilities for future events. Some ancient texts claim you can even bring life back to the dead, and travel across the world in an instant, or travel to other places not in this world. There are scrolls depicting a city in the clouds, guarded by chariots of glass, driven by tongues of fire. A world with mountains of itu crystal, where gold lies on the riverbeds. And there are other places, horrible, evil places where Ngak’s demons walk in daylight, places of fire, of ice, and death.

“You see, tamborae is a tool, nothing more. Temple doctrine imposes daan extan rules on those of us who can work. You may not kill with it, iro extan Aomm. Neither may you enslave others. You must protect life, and you must oppose evil when you encounter it. These are called the Keystones, or sometimes the Cornerstones. These are Temple precepts, given to Seers by Aomm himself, and they bind all of us. Any who violate them lose the authority given to them by God. Use tamborae to control the thoughts of another being, and Aomm will take tamborae from you.”

“The first rule - that you may not kill - that is why in the hall during the Water Drummer’s performance, you created a shield instead of just killing the gith-gesaarm, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. Even an animal should not be killed with tamborae. Now, gith-gesaarm were created by Ngak, but they are still animals. Savage and cruel, but they are still ultimately animals.”

“Ngak. You’re saying gith-gesaarm are demonic?”

“Yes. If you Worked, you would know that. You can feel it. There is darkness about them, it flows from them.”

“You said daan extan. That means, ‘forever existing’, yes?”

“Roughly translated, yes. It is a way of saying it’s an unchanging law the Temple Workers are bound by.”

“But you also said you may not enslave others. If that’s the case, how come I and every other man in this country have a kir?”

posted on Jun, 9 2017 @ 05:43 PM
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91 - Falling

She looked down for a moment, seeming to collect her thoughts. “This is a fine point of theology, and not well understood. The process in creating a kir is unusual; I don’t know the exact mechanics, but however it works, it is not a violation of the precepts.”

“How can that possibly be? You’ve never questioned it?”

“As a matter of fact, I have,” she said defensively. “Clearly it does not violate the Keystones or every Seeress and Seer in the temple would have Fallen. We have all created at least one. You have to do so in order to be installed as a Seeress.”


“When you violate Aomm’s laws for using tamborae, the ability is taken away from you. We call that Falling.”

“By whom? Who takes it away?”

“Aomm, of course.”

He shook his head. “Do you really believe Aomm and Ngak are real? Isn’t it more likely that we made them up, and discovered tamborae for ourselves?”

“Absolutely not,” she shook her head. “You cannot describe it to someone who has not held tamborae. But there is darkness and light, a tangible thing. Those who can work develop a sensitivity to it - almost as though you are given another sense. Just as you can taste, or smell, you can feel the power of, well,” she spread her hands, “light and dark, or good and evil. The words may differ, but it is real, it is there. Let me ask you - have you ever seen a flock of buyanhos? They wheel and change direction all as of one mind. Now, how can a bird whose body is no bigger than the palm of your hand do that?

“Those birds are connected, connected in spirit. There is more than just this stuff,” she plucked at the skin of her forearm. “Much more. tamborae allows a worker to glimpse a part of the more that is there.”

Her eyes shined. This was her passion, he could see it. Eagerness lit up her face, and her speech had quickened, especially when talking about the unseen, the unknown. It seemed to Gaalen that she wanted to discover, to explore.

“It seems limitless, even with the precepts. Then things you could accomplish,” he mused.

“Yes, but it is not easy. A Worker is only so strong. Working the tamborae – sculpting it, shaping it how you wish it to be – takes energy from your body. It is akin to performing the a’karana over and over without rest. You can only take so much before muscles give out, and the pain from your body forces you to stop. But also, like exercise, the more you Work the stronger you become. Nor does it suffer the ravages of age – strength in tamborae does not weaken as the Worker gets older.”

“But I thought you said that if takes energy from your body? Doesn’t that decline as you age?”

“Have you ever met any people of the Acanyan tribes?”

He nodded. Juk Igoljiklok, one of Bryn’s scouts, was of the Acanyan.

“Their territory is just south of the Eastholds. My father used to take me along when he would negotiate trade with them. They always held a feast for us when we came. There was an old man there, gray hair and wrinkles, and his skin looked like paper. As part of the feast, they would have a footrace. That old man won the footrace and the bow contest every year. Age does not have to limit you, as one would think. Those who Work live longer. It is not clear why, but our lifespans are extended somehow.

“But doing even simple things requires an immense quantity of tamborae, even starting a small campfire. And it is not without penalty. Push yourself too far, your body will rebel. Push too far into the World of the Unseen, and you may not return. You can guide or channel the forces of nature with caan, but you may end up crushed by the same forces you seek to control if you are not careful. You do not get second chances, sometimes.”

“Second chances are rare for everyone, I think,” he said softly. “Is it true you have to abdicate any claim to a noble inheritance if you can Work?”

“Yes, the combination of nobility and the ability to Work tamborae is too much power for one person. So there are limitations imposed by both God and by the Crown.”

“You mean beyond the - what did you call them - the Keystones?”

She nodded. “The Crown dictates that you must abdicate any right to noble inheritance. You still have the title, but you cannot own a principality. Aomm’s limit is,” she paused, “different.”

posted on Jun, 10 2017 @ 10:14 PM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd
Oh wow dude. Your story short story here is one of the most purplest short stories I have read in a while, it reminded me of a lot of other things, mostly your other inspirations, as some are clear in the way you write and subjects and ebb and flow, but mostly it reminded me of grapes.

Since it was super cool what you did in this thread. I can only say that, well aside and besides my other criticisms, but to the point. If you try to describe every single thing going on in the world and to the charters, at one point it becomes not world building but a constant reminder and explanation for why they are there, kind of like you have to constantly come up with an excuse for them and the whole thing to exist to begin with.

Which off course sort of kind of messes with the whole point of telling a story, if you have to constantly reinforce and remind the reader ie me and everybody else of everything that is going on. Becomes kind of of a drag, that just drags on instead of flows.

But anyways, carry on my purple writing internet stranger dude.

posted on Jun, 10 2017 @ 10:42 PM
a reply to: galadofwarthethird
Hi Galad -

Name taken from WoT perhaps?

Thank you for your thoughts on this. Yes, it is a large story. I began posting it in the Shed, and used purple as a way to distinguish the story from the other posts in the Shed. That tradition carried on here when I broke it out into its own thread.

You are correct, that there is a very fine line to walk between too much information, and enough information conveyed to the read to understand clearly what's happening. Many fans of the Wheel of Time seemed to feel that his descriptions became burdensome or tedious, and bogged the story down in the middle books - particularly 7 and 8. The way I write tends to come from visualizing each scene in my head. For example, in the scene where Siere heals the girl in the Temple, I could draw you a map of the room it occurs in. Same with the layout of the library where Gaalen meets with Uwen and Siere. So when I write, I write what I see in my head.

Anyway, thank you for reading - I'm glad you tolerated the grapey words.

I may see of the mods can change my handle to PurpleWritingInternetStrangerDude - will have to pontificate on that a bit.

posted on Jun, 11 2017 @ 10:50 PM
a reply to: PrairieShepherd

Actually don't even know what WoT is, or if I do I don't keep that information on my conscious thought as its not relevant. And to tell the truth only read the first few pages of this thread, not sure what I will think of all this if I would have kept reading on. Maybe less criticism? Maybe more? Who knows right.

And actually the Wheel of Time is one of my favorite books, don't know if its because it was one of the first books I foraged into the lands and realm of fantasy writing, or because its a really good story, I think both reasons equate. But ya! It does gets tedious and annoying with all the skirt pulling skirting through sceneries and etc etc, but if anything I would say in those books it worked, one of the few I suppose.

And yes I do think there are very few purple writing going on around, don't know why, I think in certain instances even changing the color of the words may be, well lets just say an upgrade. And be glad you chose to write in purple, now if you were to choose lime green? I may be so inclined to say this whole story is sort of a lemon. Bad inclinations there right?

You may carry on writing and such dude. Just a passing by.

edit on 10pmSundaypm112017f0pmSun, 11 Jun 2017 22:53:55 -0500 by galadofwarthethird because: (no reason given)

posted on Jun, 12 2017 @ 07:53 AM
a reply to: galadofwarthethird

LOL - you do, in fact, know what "WoT" is, my friend, you just don't realize it: Wheel of Time.

I was pretty sure your handle was taken from Galadedrid Damodred, but I don't like making assumptions (in RL I'm a computer programmer. We don't like assumptions.)

Yes, there ended up being pages and pages of "sniffing" and arms "folded under bosoms" in the Wheel of Time, which slowed the pace immensely in the middle. But starting around the fight at Shadar Logoth when Rand & Nynaeve do the thing with the Choedan Kal and all the Forsaken attack in Winter's Heart, it begins to pick up the pace again. Some of my favorite moments in the entire series are in books 4 & 5, and 10-12. Nice to find another Wheel of Time fan.

edit on 6-12-2017 by PrairieShepherd because: (no reason given)

posted on Jun, 12 2017 @ 10:27 AM
Came in to catch up on the purple story.

I usually write in teal, but in my collaboration with Lucid, he used the teal and I used...purple. Raises glass to purple stories. Cheers!

posted on Jun, 12 2017 @ 11:25 AM
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92 - Free

“’Different?’ What is Aomm’s limit?”

“Men and women who Work cannot have children,” she said, looking out into the distance. “Even if one of the couple doesn’t have Aomm’s Gift, they will still produce no offspring. That is a law of Aomm. In the third volume of the Book of Voices, the Book of the Gift, scripture says he made it that way so that dynasties of power based on tamborae are prevented. No mother will pass her power to her daughter, and no father to his son.”

“Perhaps that is best for humanity in the end. Those with power will eventually abuse it. Sometimes I think a person should have power over themselves and no one else; not even their child.”

Siere looked at him from the corner of her eye. “Perhaps,” she said. “A tamborae-based dynasty could become tyrannical, that is true. But we need leadership, yes? Without someone to lead, people - not just men - will fall into barbarism, don’t you think? A child with no one to teach them better will think of none but themselves, for that is how we are made. Aomm made a special bond between parent and child,” she held up a hand as he started to protest, “even if our society abuses it. A healthy relationship between parents and children is a powerful force, Lord Braeghe.”

Gaalen made a non-committal sound. “Men should be free.”

“Free men become savages. I thought you knew that.”

“That’s not what I meant. People should be free - free to make their own choices, to pursue their own destiny. Besides, look at us. Control and restriction can be just as brutal. Are we truly any less savage than the creatures out there? You don’t see them killing their own kind over some shiny metal.”

“Or, perhaps there must be a balance of freedom and authority. Something that guides people, that brings them together. Clearly, we can do more united than we can do alone, but forced unity is simply tyranny in disguise.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, then a thought occurred to Gaalen.

“Seeress, is it worth it?”

“Is what worth it? Working tamborae?” She looked at him, dark eyes penetrating.

He nodded, and she looked off into the distance.

“It is not an easy life, I admit that. Nor is it for the faint of heart, but then again, what life is, in our world? You make sacrifices - your time, your talent. Those who are noble will sacrifice treasure too - you give up the potential to own land and reap the rewards of that land’s production. There are other sacrifices as well . You cannot pass on your Gift, and you give up much freedom for the sake of the Temple . But yes, Lord Captain,” she said, smiling shyly in his direction, “when I can help someone, truly heal them, that makes it all worth it.”

“You are a special woman, Seeress. You have a talent that I cannot understand, and could never have.”
She was still for a moment, almost as if frozen in time, her eyes unfocused and staring out across the yard.

“I think it is a skill,” she said abruptly, “like learning the sword or ro-ti. Here, let’s try. Maybe you are a Worker, Lord Captain! Close your eyes,” she said.

He looked at her askance. “Seeress, I don’t think --“ he said, slowly.

“Oh stop. Humor me. I have put up with your coaching and instruction,” she teased him, “now it’s your turn. Close your eyes, Lord Braeghe.”

Sensing she would not be deterred, he obeyed.

posted on Jun, 13 2017 @ 01:10 PM
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93 - To Touch the Greatmoon

“Now, let your mind relax. I want you to think of a rock eagle. You are standing on a mountain cliff. Feel the granite underneath your talons, smell the clean air. Far below you are tall, straight pine and fir. The sky is blue and there’s a gentle breeze. You spread your wings and launch your body in to the air, floating free. Feel the wind underneath your wings, and let your mind soar. Feel the heat of the sun on your back,” she continued. Her velvety voice was soothing, and in his mind he was able to imagine being one of the great gray-blue birds.

She continued speaking, taking him through different images and exercises, each somehow connected to the sky, the sun, or the Greatmoon.

“Now, feel the Greatmoon, feel its pull. That’s it, that’s good. You are vast,” she said, in another exercise. “You are an angel like Kei’arai, tall enough to reach into the heavens. Reach and touch the Greatmoon. Take your hand, and Gather just a handful of the Greatmoon,” she said hypnotizingly. He had visualized himself as the statue in the i]Gerat Kuhjinoe, but immense, standing with a foot on the land and a foot in the sea. He reached out his imagined hand, and dipped a finger into the purplish haze of the Greatmoon. It seemed he could see some of it stick to his fingers, turning them a glowing purple-white.

“That’s good, you are doing very well,” she said. “Now, take a bit more,” she continued.

His thoughts drifted, and her voice faded. He dipped his hand again into the Greatmoon, deeper than before, and pulled out a handful.

“Excellent,” a soft, melodic voice said. It seemed it was actually a chorus, one speaking, and others singing. “A little more this time,” it said.

He reached out, both hands this time. He was so immense, he placed his hands on both sides of the Greatmoon.

“Not that much,” it said, but he was drawn to the glow. He wanted to pick it up --

“No! You’re not ready!”

-- to embrace it --

“Lord Captain!” the voice was sharp. “Lord Braeghe, you must stop!”

The Greatmoon seemed to melt in his hands, and the sky receded away from him. He inhaled, gasping.

He opened his eyes and saw dirt. There was a person near him, and a hand on his back. He was on his hands and knees, looking at dirt.

“Lord Captain, are you alright?”

“What happened, Seeress?” he said weakly. He felt as though he had run from Avaanse to Lake Naonn without stopping. The world seemed to slow down, and he sat back on his haunches, still kneeling.

“You were more adept at some of those exercises than I anticipated,” she said, a slight quaver in her voice. “Not many can concentrate that well, Lord Captain. I am impressed.”

She stood, raised her waterskin, and took a long drink.

“It is getting late, Lord Captain,” she continued after a moment, “I have an earlier class than normal today. I should be going. Tomorrow then?” He noticed the artery in her delicate neck pulsing quickly, and her manner was abrupt.

“Certainly. I have something special planned. If you wait just a moment, I can escort you to the Temple. I just need to catch my breath.”

“No need, Lord Captain, Sir Etruesdan is just there, I will be perfectly safe.”

Grateful for the rest, he sat back on the stone bench, still trying to catch his breath.

posted on Jun, 13 2017 @ 05:40 PM
Finally, caught up again. Whew! Carry on my friend!

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