A Story I Know Nothing About.
09-20-2016, 07:06 PM
(This post was last modified: 09-20-2016, 07:13 PM by Gnar.
Edit Reason: added translation
)
The Chainsmokers - Don't Let Me Down (Illenium Remix)
It was late. The sun had faded from the world and the moon taken it's place in the sky atop the heavens with all the stars dancing around it. One of those stars up there was him. Her father. She didn't know which one, but it was probably dancing with two others, his mother and her mother. The woman she was named after and the one that birthed her. Maybe he was finally smiling. But which ever one he was, she knew he was one of the ones overhead. His soul would return to this place, she was sure of it. Maybe it had followed her, been the wind at her back that blew her here with haste. Maybe it had come in with her. Such were her thoughts as she looked up at the sky through the clearing in the trees, a circle that gave way to the sky above. She bore his spitting image as she stood on the soil of Ardent, what had once been Alacritis. Save for the scars across his nose that she lacked, at least she had that. One way or another, He was home.
Such were the woman's thoughts as she sat before the pool, looking up at the sky. She was young. But despite her youth, her eyes, they just seemed so much older than she. There was an old aura about her. Even as she looked up at the sky, sighting down that brown snout of hers, she held the same expression that she always did. Neither friend nor foe, neither welcoming nor hostile. Neither warm nor cold. The stones around her that danced with strange markings, she'd seen ruins like this out in the wilderness, not often but once or twice. They were always beautiful. Her tail would give the occasional wag as she looked upwards, trying to find them. She'd been beautiful enough for him to name her after the woman, and she was tied to this place, and Serrah to him. So she was sure of it. The three of them were up there somewhere. Together as he longed for. It gave her a overwhelming sense of peace and ease. To know that they would never go back to that place where they went when their eyes went ten thousand yards down range ever again. They were free now.
Slowly, she brought her eyes back down to look at the white stones around her, dancing with the strange writing that they carried. Her voice would calmly fall from her lips against the stone. "шептать меня ваш Истории." Whisper Me Your Stories. And after a moment's longer gaze, she rose to her feet and slowly brought her gaze to the memory pool before her. Her head would aim towards it as she slowly began to walk a circle around it's border, the faint light rising up from it. So this was the home of her father. The place that he loved so dearly despite all the pain it gave him. All those stories about the world, and this was the place that he had tied his soul to. Her face never once changed as she looked at all the broken and fractured memories that swam before her, of many wolves over hundreds of years, generations on generations of Zaraidd who had taken up against the darkness and loved this world and all the light in it. Her linage. All culminating to a brown wolf with three scars across his nose standing atop a mountain looking down at Alacritis unfolding before him as the cold, snow kissed wind of the mountain blew through his fur. He was young, and full of life and light and energy. And the land he looked out on was so beautiful. She could see the appeal. Many might not say it, but Newol was Gnar's Hero. So he succeeded in his goals in that regard. The woman would find her name here, he'd said when he'd sent her on her way. And so here she would make her bed and find a home. One way or another. Sitting down again before the memory pool, she turned her gaze back to the sky. There was a soft urge to howl. But she hadn't sang once in her life, so her voice was meant for something special. She wouldn't let it loose here. She would save it for now, and simply bask in this quiet moment of hers. It had been a long journey here, and she was tired. But sleep wouldn't find her yet, she wasn't ready to surrender to this day just yet.
It was late. The sun had faded from the world and the moon taken it's place in the sky atop the heavens with all the stars dancing around it. One of those stars up there was him. Her father. She didn't know which one, but it was probably dancing with two others, his mother and her mother. The woman she was named after and the one that birthed her. Maybe he was finally smiling. But which ever one he was, she knew he was one of the ones overhead. His soul would return to this place, she was sure of it. Maybe it had followed her, been the wind at her back that blew her here with haste. Maybe it had come in with her. Such were her thoughts as she looked up at the sky through the clearing in the trees, a circle that gave way to the sky above. She bore his spitting image as she stood on the soil of Ardent, what had once been Alacritis. Save for the scars across his nose that she lacked, at least she had that. One way or another, He was home.
Such were the woman's thoughts as she sat before the pool, looking up at the sky. She was young. But despite her youth, her eyes, they just seemed so much older than she. There was an old aura about her. Even as she looked up at the sky, sighting down that brown snout of hers, she held the same expression that she always did. Neither friend nor foe, neither welcoming nor hostile. Neither warm nor cold. The stones around her that danced with strange markings, she'd seen ruins like this out in the wilderness, not often but once or twice. They were always beautiful. Her tail would give the occasional wag as she looked upwards, trying to find them. She'd been beautiful enough for him to name her after the woman, and she was tied to this place, and Serrah to him. So she was sure of it. The three of them were up there somewhere. Together as he longed for. It gave her a overwhelming sense of peace and ease. To know that they would never go back to that place where they went when their eyes went ten thousand yards down range ever again. They were free now.
Slowly, she brought her eyes back down to look at the white stones around her, dancing with the strange writing that they carried. Her voice would calmly fall from her lips against the stone. "шептать меня ваш Истории." Whisper Me Your Stories. And after a moment's longer gaze, she rose to her feet and slowly brought her gaze to the memory pool before her. Her head would aim towards it as she slowly began to walk a circle around it's border, the faint light rising up from it. So this was the home of her father. The place that he loved so dearly despite all the pain it gave him. All those stories about the world, and this was the place that he had tied his soul to. Her face never once changed as she looked at all the broken and fractured memories that swam before her, of many wolves over hundreds of years, generations on generations of Zaraidd who had taken up against the darkness and loved this world and all the light in it. Her linage. All culminating to a brown wolf with three scars across his nose standing atop a mountain looking down at Alacritis unfolding before him as the cold, snow kissed wind of the mountain blew through his fur. He was young, and full of life and light and energy. And the land he looked out on was so beautiful. She could see the appeal. Many might not say it, but Newol was Gnar's Hero. So he succeeded in his goals in that regard. The woman would find her name here, he'd said when he'd sent her on her way. And so here she would make her bed and find a home. One way or another. Sitting down again before the memory pool, she turned her gaze back to the sky. There was a soft urge to howl. But she hadn't sang once in her life, so her voice was meant for something special. She wouldn't let it loose here. She would save it for now, and simply bask in this quiet moment of hers. It had been a long journey here, and she was tired. But sleep wouldn't find her yet, she wasn't ready to surrender to this day just yet.