Post by Rae Moonsilver on Nov 4, 2007 20:19:36 GMT -5
Being aware that there would be pain was far different than actually going through it, she would muse later on. Yet the surreality of the event had been so great that the pain though intense and unwavering like a blade that had been heated in coals pressed against tender skin had been quickly lost to the full wonder of it all. She was aware of the chill of the room yet she was not, such a fleeting impression for her as what felt like flakes of snow fell from her skin as she had first risen up and her lashes had fluttered like golden fans when her eyes had fully opened as if again for the very first time.
It was rather like being born after all. That comparison had not been a surprising leap to come to as she felt in ways like a new born filly, shaking where she stood upon legs grown suddenly weak and her amber eyes, always one of her more beautiful features, were so wide as to seem to consume all the features of her lovely face. The sheer sensory rush of all she felt was more than enough to overwhelm her in that moment and she might have fallen had He not been there to hold her up, the gentle amusement in his voice the prelude to his always and forever glorious laugh. She had always, always loved his laugh, even when he laughed at her.
She felt a sensation of coolest silk flow over her bared skin, had she truly been naked up until that moment? Perhaps she had, in his mercy for her he’d stripped the soft lawn linen gown she slept in from her hypersensitive skin to replace it with drowish spider silk that would be kind to her tender state, knowing that everything would be so heightened for her that regular cloth might well prove agonizing. She felt the iron strength in his muscles as one arm circled her waist and the other brushed back the loose fall of her golden hair to rest upon her forehead, the poetry of his whiskey laced with crystal voice there in her delicately pointed ear, echoing into her mind.
“There, there my Aurora, do not fear. Instead rejoice in what treasure I have given you, I have taken you away from all this Death.”
The words were spoken with strange tenderness and she knew he would not let her fall as she tilted her head trying to discern what it was that she was trying to hear but was not when she could hear the minute brush of a Luna moth’s wings just outside the window to the room that had been so familiar to her and now was so exotic and strange. With a start it came to her even as his words did, her honey tone holding an admixture of wonder and terror as the hand on her forehead smoothed back through her hair in a touch that made her arch against him like a kitten.
“It was … it was my heartbeat that used to be beneath all I ever heard, the rush of blood in me … that is what I do not hear now?”
His laugh rang out then as he agreed with her.
“We are no longer bound by such, the metronome of days.”
He moved with her to the balcony, sweeping back the curtains as she relearned what it was to walk and felt for the first time the stirring echoes of the strength that would soon be hers. He was still explaining things to her, not the least of which what he would teach her this night. His words she would remember and keep dear to her forever, because he had not simply turned her and left as many of their kind did, he had stayed enough to show her favor and make sure she would be there when he wished for her to be there. Even if it were mere afterthought, he had planned for her success in this life and he knew above all else that her loyalty to him which had never wavered could not be swayed from him now no matter what coin of purchase might be offered to her.
As for her she rejoiced throughout her new self for it had been him that she had loved which gave her this now, and she already knew just who would first suffer to slake the thirst which even now was building within her fair and slender form. It would be those who had called her tainted for years for allowing his Kiss, for bearing his mark upon her neck with love and pride rather than cringing with shame over being tainted. As if she ever had had a care for being taken from the chance of Arvandor! What was the chance of Heaven compared to love? It was nothing but ashes in her mouth and had been so for decades.
He showed her then what she could do and she was just as rapt with his teaching as she had always known she would be. Let others wonder how it was that Mintiper Moonsilver could be two places at once, but she knew. Favored by the Lords of Air and Dark, he could move not only through Shadow but Dream as well, which gave him even more unfathomable powers that the enemies he faced knew nothing about.
And then of course, Jausserande Moonsilver woke screaming, not from a nightmare she had been rescued from but from the sheer loss of waking with her heart beating in the background as it always had, from the anguish of blood rushing through her veins, from the terror of life drowning her in the prospect of Death without Eternity. She slid from her bed to crumple to the floor, her delicate fists beating the stones as her sobs rang out into the stillness of the night air. It would be quite some time until she calmed, drawing her wrist over her face to wipe away the evidence of her tears. A sudden comforting thought flitted through her then, because with her dreams were not always dreams, sometimes they were more. Sometimes they were precognitive flashes buried in the language of sleep, and she knew that was all the comfort she would have this night at the least.
It was rather like being born after all. That comparison had not been a surprising leap to come to as she felt in ways like a new born filly, shaking where she stood upon legs grown suddenly weak and her amber eyes, always one of her more beautiful features, were so wide as to seem to consume all the features of her lovely face. The sheer sensory rush of all she felt was more than enough to overwhelm her in that moment and she might have fallen had He not been there to hold her up, the gentle amusement in his voice the prelude to his always and forever glorious laugh. She had always, always loved his laugh, even when he laughed at her.
She felt a sensation of coolest silk flow over her bared skin, had she truly been naked up until that moment? Perhaps she had, in his mercy for her he’d stripped the soft lawn linen gown she slept in from her hypersensitive skin to replace it with drowish spider silk that would be kind to her tender state, knowing that everything would be so heightened for her that regular cloth might well prove agonizing. She felt the iron strength in his muscles as one arm circled her waist and the other brushed back the loose fall of her golden hair to rest upon her forehead, the poetry of his whiskey laced with crystal voice there in her delicately pointed ear, echoing into her mind.
“There, there my Aurora, do not fear. Instead rejoice in what treasure I have given you, I have taken you away from all this Death.”
The words were spoken with strange tenderness and she knew he would not let her fall as she tilted her head trying to discern what it was that she was trying to hear but was not when she could hear the minute brush of a Luna moth’s wings just outside the window to the room that had been so familiar to her and now was so exotic and strange. With a start it came to her even as his words did, her honey tone holding an admixture of wonder and terror as the hand on her forehead smoothed back through her hair in a touch that made her arch against him like a kitten.
“It was … it was my heartbeat that used to be beneath all I ever heard, the rush of blood in me … that is what I do not hear now?”
His laugh rang out then as he agreed with her.
“We are no longer bound by such, the metronome of days.”
He moved with her to the balcony, sweeping back the curtains as she relearned what it was to walk and felt for the first time the stirring echoes of the strength that would soon be hers. He was still explaining things to her, not the least of which what he would teach her this night. His words she would remember and keep dear to her forever, because he had not simply turned her and left as many of their kind did, he had stayed enough to show her favor and make sure she would be there when he wished for her to be there. Even if it were mere afterthought, he had planned for her success in this life and he knew above all else that her loyalty to him which had never wavered could not be swayed from him now no matter what coin of purchase might be offered to her.
As for her she rejoiced throughout her new self for it had been him that she had loved which gave her this now, and she already knew just who would first suffer to slake the thirst which even now was building within her fair and slender form. It would be those who had called her tainted for years for allowing his Kiss, for bearing his mark upon her neck with love and pride rather than cringing with shame over being tainted. As if she ever had had a care for being taken from the chance of Arvandor! What was the chance of Heaven compared to love? It was nothing but ashes in her mouth and had been so for decades.
He showed her then what she could do and she was just as rapt with his teaching as she had always known she would be. Let others wonder how it was that Mintiper Moonsilver could be two places at once, but she knew. Favored by the Lords of Air and Dark, he could move not only through Shadow but Dream as well, which gave him even more unfathomable powers that the enemies he faced knew nothing about.
And then of course, Jausserande Moonsilver woke screaming, not from a nightmare she had been rescued from but from the sheer loss of waking with her heart beating in the background as it always had, from the anguish of blood rushing through her veins, from the terror of life drowning her in the prospect of Death without Eternity. She slid from her bed to crumple to the floor, her delicate fists beating the stones as her sobs rang out into the stillness of the night air. It would be quite some time until she calmed, drawing her wrist over her face to wipe away the evidence of her tears. A sudden comforting thought flitted through her then, because with her dreams were not always dreams, sometimes they were more. Sometimes they were precognitive flashes buried in the language of sleep, and she knew that was all the comfort she would have this night at the least.