The shadow
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There was some piece of her that would be trapped there forevermore, like a leaf in the frozen surface of a pond. She remembered it all; that sky the color of wisteria blossoms and the warmth of a rose kissed silvery sun. Her once and future home, that of efflorescence scent carried by warm winds, and verdant verdurous hills. Arcady; a place wild and primal and breathtaking in beauty. There was a piece of her left behind there, and a piece of those otherworldly lands forever within her.
But like the ancient wild land she came from, she carried a shade within her heart and soul. The Faelands were not all shimmering petals and star kissed streams, vibrant butterflies and fairy folk dreams, and thus neither was she. Rapacious, voracious was the woman who had long since ceased to be properly human. Her life before being stolen away, was behind a curtain of thick ichor tainted fog, but when she dreamed, she dreamed of silver leaves and a rain of golden petals. She dreamed of an endless stretch of far too many stars, and three shining moons. She dreamed of the tang of blood both sharp and sweet, spattered on rocks and snow. She dreamed, she yearned, and day after day, continued this solemn masquerade.
Does not the pleasantness of this place carry in itself sufficient reward for any time lost in it, or for any such danger that might ensue? Do you not see how everything conspires together to make this place a heavenly dwelling? Do you not see the grass, how in color they excel the emeralds ...? Do not these stately trees seem to maintain their flourishing old age, with the only happiness of their seat being clothed with a continual spring, because no beauty here should ever fade?
Doth not the air breathe health which the birds (both delightful both to the ear and eye) do daily solemnize with the sweet consent of their voices? Is not every echo here a perfect music? And these fresh and delightful brooks, how slowly they slide away, as, loath to leave the company of so many things united in perfection, and with how sweet a murmur they lament their forced departure.
Certainly, certainly, cousin, it must needs be, that some goddess this desert belongs unto, who is the soul of this soil, for neither is any less than a goddess worthy to be shrined in such a heap of pleasures, nor any less than a goddess could have made it so perfect a model of the heavenly dwellings.
-Lope de Vega
Arcadia: Prose and Verse, 1598
Oh now feel it, comin' back again
Like a rollin', thunder chasing the wind
Forces pullin' from
The center of the earth again
I can feel it. I can feel it. I can feel it.
I....c a n....f e e l....i t
ALWAYS
Whisper Friendly
18+ IC/OOC
Quality > Quantity
1-1 RP
Magic
Supernatural Themes
Macabre Themes.
SOMETIMES
Violence
Lets say we did
Injury
2-3 group
PERHAPS
Romance
ERP/SMUT
NEVER
Rape
OOC Drama
Under 18+ IC/OOC
Mixing IC/OOC
