Post by Curiosity on Oct 18, 2010 17:16:59 GMT -5
Characters Involved:
Nayeli, female cougar
Paoro, female cougar spirit
=== Stone Formations ===
It had been forever ago since she had cried as hard as she had. Ironically, also due to Kein, though this time there's the bitter taste of finality, as Nayeli feels absolutely certain that there will not be a dream to reunite them nor any parental guidance to help foster the reconciliation of their friendship. This time... it's finished. There's a weary depression that has replaced the shock and horror from earlier, with the unpleasant addition of bitterness. She's not entirely sure who she's more upset with, she or Kein, or even with Nyssa. Is it the other female's fault that she attracted Kein to this extent? But now the tears have dried, though the irony still runs strong; her paws have brought her here to the location where she once had a dream, both literally and figuratively. Perhaps a subconscious wish that history would repeat itself? Or perhaps it's a more pragmatic reason: the solitude. Unsure of what to make of her life now, the best remedy, as she remembers from long-ago lessons, is time and thought. Reflection.
In the many eons that Snowcrest Mountain has towered over the lowlands surrounding it, spanning far more generations than even the long-lived Amaranth tribe can dare to claim, its valleys and peaks have served as a temporary home for a number of spirits of creatures past, and the stories and rumors that accompany their occasional visits. The present is no exception, though there is a particular Guardian of the Mountain who now watches over the lands of her family. The ancient shaman's ghost has been stirred from her heavenly slumber once more by the feelings of deep anguish and sorrow of one of her own bloodline, and she does not delay in making herself known to Nayeli, appearing from behind one of the larger rocks found in this sacred place. Unlike the usually more ethereal form the spirit tends to take, this time she appears almost exactly like she did when she was still alive, with the exception of her pupil-less eyes, and a slightly translucent sheen to her feline frame. Perhaps Nayeli has cried herself to sleep, and she is dreaming? Or perhaps the more corporeal form is merely a stronger illusion than is usually perceived. "Granddaughter," the aged one intones, padding over with paws that scarcely touch the ground beneath them, "why do you cry?" Even though the tears are dried, Paoro can no doubt see beyond the mere physical realm, and into the matron's own heart and mind.
Maybe she really is dreaming. Irony strikes again, to dream, but of something other than what she was hoping for. And yet, would such a different dream be unwelcome or unwanted? Solace from her grandmother, spirit or not, would still be much-wanted comfort, and Nayeli feels the first glimmer of hope at hearing the other's voice. Even as long as it's been since their last contact, it's instant recognition and a glimpse--barely--of a smile touches Nayeli's maw. "It is.. good to see you again, Grandmother." She takes a deep breath, trying to bring her thoughts into focus. One can't exactly exchange normal pleasantries with a spirit, after all, familial or not. But how to answer the stated question? "I was.. informed-" There's a twinge of bitterness in the word. "-that Kein is not only expecting cubs with another Sister, but is leaving me to be with her." Her voice shakes. "It's /over/, Grandmother! I can't.. I just can't..." Is there a need to finish her sentence? The implication should be obvious enough.
Listening as she approaches, Paoro's first response is not a verbal one, but instead a loving embrace of her cheek against Nayeli's, though the other feels nothing more than a faint, warm breeze from the gesture. "You /can/, Nayeli. Your blood is strong, and both your mother and myself prevailed and endured even in the face of opposition that threatened to crush our very spirits. The issue is not whether or not you can or cannot -- it is whether you /want/ to." The spirit's muzzle spreads in the slightest of knowing smiles, as though to show that even if Nayeli does not, her grandmother will not be disappointed in her. Settling down on her haunches across from her descendant, the shamaness continues to speak. "We matrons are no strangers to heartbreak, my child. Try as I may to shield the Amaranth from tragedy, both in my life and beyond it, it is merely a facet of life. If we do not feel the pain of sadness, how can we ever feel the pleasure of joy?" Paoro pauses in her diatribe to lift a see-through paw to Nayeli's chin, and although there is no actual physical contact, perhaps the gesture is reassuring enough. "Your mother sacrificed herself for the good of the tribe when her mate threatened to shatter the heart of her family, and I feel the Amaranth as a whole is still recovering from that severe fracture. Kein is far from the fiend that took the life of his mother -- but he is just as deeply affected by that tragic course of events as you are."
Even as the ethereal form of her grandmother speaks to her, Nayeli can already see the referred-to scenes as though she were still there. Yes, the death of her parents was indeed a fracture, but it was her own faith in Paoro's belief that she and Kein were to be the healing of that fracture, the pair and team that would bring Amaranth through that dark time in its history, that caused her to pull through her sorrow over all the pain and sudden loss. The hints of affection bring another glimpse of a smile, though this one stays just a bit longer than the last. "Grandmother, I.. I don't.." She collects herself, then tries again. "I'm not trying to sound as though I'm the only one who's ever had a difficult time." The matron hesitates, then adds, "But you never had Ahiga leave you for another... right?" She hadn't initially intended for it to be a question, assuming that surely her grandmother would have told her a long time ago if such had occurred. Her ears flatten slightly and her tail twitches uneasily. She's already as much admitted that she doesn't know how to proceed from here, if not in so many words.
"No, he did not leave me for another...but he did leave, once. When the disease came to our lands, he disappeared, and I thought I had lost him to the plague. I did not find out until many moons later that he was indeed alive, having left the tribe without warning when he became ill, so as to keep his family from becoming ill as well." The wispy frame of the shamaness shivers in a passing breeze, then resettles once more. "I know that is far from what you are going through, but...it could be much worse, my child. Think of what your mother must have felt when she discovered her own chieftain's...'indiscretions' with Maulisho." Paoro says nothing further on the topic, knowing full well that neither of them particularly wish to relive that tragic part of their past. "I do not wish to belittle your heartbreak, Nayeli, but I must admit that, despite what the storytellers claim, I am not all-knowing in all things. I can only offer what guidance I can, and you must discover the rest yourself." Despite these seemingly concluding words, the ethereal form remains still, lingering among the stone formations for as long as her granddaughter desires her company and conversation.
So her grandmother's mate did leave, but for a noble reason, and it all worked out well in the end. That initial glimmer of hope that she might receive encouragement and instruction has now faded. Not that she doesn't appreciate what her grandmother is trying to tell her, but... there hasn't been a single word of advice or admonition yet. Only gentle reminders of how she's not the only one who's suffered. But... what now? How to proceed? Where to go? What to do? She's still just as lost as she was before this conversation, and it doesn't look like her questions are going to be answered, as the seeming doubt in Paoro's words only causes the matron's ears to flatten even more, and all traces of a smile are now gone. Guidance? "You're right, of course," Nayeli says dully, looking over at one of the stone pillars. "It could be much worse." Small comfort, if any.
Paoro, as always, seems to comprehend the unspoken as she now attempts to steer the subject away from the specific heartbreak of her mate's departure and towards the other, less obvious, matter at paw. "Earlier, you said that you 'can't'...can't what, my child?" The shamaness has an idea of what Nayeli might have meant, but she does not wish to put words in the mouth of one who is perfectly capable of speaking for herself.
Nayeli opens her mouth as if to answer, then finally just shrugs. "Like you said, it's not an issue." She can't meet her grandmother's eyes, afraid of what she'll see in the older cougaress' gaze. Disappointment? Reproach? Regret? But knowing that she's not going to be able to get away with that answer alone, she finally adds, bitterness once again lacing her voice, "I can't accept it." She won't. Can't. Kein may try and sugarcoat it with words of how he still loves her, despite his actions, and how this was all brought on by her words to him, but... regardless of the /why/, /he/ is the one who has done this. But no amount of rational conclusion can convince her to accept what has happened.
If anything, the intangible face of the revered shamaness holds a vaguely discernible expression of faint sadness, though not at anything Nayeli has said or done. "There are many things in the world that are so incomprehensible or bewildering that we refuse to accept them as true...the death of a child before our own, or even merely making a decision that seems right at the time that turns out to be a grave mistake later on." In Paoro's case, that mistaken decision directly led to the death of her own firstborn child. "But whether we come to accept it or not, life goes on, as it always has, and always will. The best we can do is try to move on with it." With a soft sigh, Paoro's eerily blank eyes focus on Nayeli's own before continuing. "Perhaps it is time for you to move on as well, Nayeli." Her words are not intended to be a subtle innuendo that the matron should step down, but merely an acceptance of her own of the consideration that it may be time for such a transition.
Time for her to move on? The matron knows that there's disbelief painting her features, but at this point in the conversation, she really doesn't care. "I'll never accept this," she mutters under her breath, more to herself than to her grandmother's ears. Her head slowly shakes from side to side as she repeats Paoro's words over and over again in her mind. Time for her to move on. Move on with it. Life goes on. She stops suddenly, as if realizing that the other is waiting on some sort of response. "This was not to be, grandmother," she says in a flat tone. "Either I have failed in my role as the tribe's matron and as mate to the chieftain, or else Kein has committed a betrayal of his family and of Amaranth." She doesn't vocalize her next thought, though she's sure Paoro no doubt would think the same: Like her father did. Maybe not quite in the same way, but still...
The ghostly form of Paoro lowers its head in woe, perhaps even defeat in response to Nayeli's statement. "None of this was, my child. When the spirits spoke to your mother while she was still carrying you within her belly, it was foretold that Misae, the pale one, would be Chosen. But, as you said...this was not to be." It's hard to read the details in the otherwise shifting, translucent expression on Paoro's face, but the clear lines of sorrow are hard to miss. The deviations in Fate's course, the lives that were taken, the spirits disturbed...all of the painful memories have been brought up far too many times in one sitting for either of their sakes, but if their broken past is ever to be repaired, it must be faced and confronted. "You have not failed, granddaughter. You were chosen to lead when you were not the /Chosen/ -- if Amaranth's spiritual path was irreparably fractured after that great, horrible wrong was committed by the last chieftain, it is hardly any fault of your own. Nor is it Kein's. He did what he could, and he protected the tribe he was named to defend."
Nayeli listens, but as devoid of any expression as if she were one of the great stone formations. Never once before in her life had she ever considered the possibility of one day disagreeing with her grandmother so strongly over something. When something this fracturing happens... /someone/ must be at fault. And if it's not her own fault, then it must be Kein. How else can the death of their relationship be explained? It might be a guilty outlet of rage were she to blame Nyssa for all of this and seek vengeance accordingly, but were Kein to truly be loyal and devoted to her, it wouldn't have mattered how hard Nyssa had tempted him. Or is it because Kein felt betrayed by her? Whose fault is it? Whichever the case, whoever to blame... she cannot accept this and just "move on". Never. "You're right, grandmother. Of course, Sketch could hardly have been called part of our tribe, despite being under our protection." Now she's just venting; of course Kein did the best he could, but he couldn't be everywhere at once.
Paoro has her own solid theory on who is to blame for where things went wrong, and were her grandchild to ask, she would speak the name 'Chesmu' without a heartbeat of hesitation. But Nayeli does not, and while Paoro may be wise, she is not a mind-reader. At the bitter words, the shamaness' fog-like frame shudders, briefly veiling the emotions (distress? regret? disappointment?) on her face. "I did not come to argue with my own blood, Nayeli." The reproach, while subtle (as is Paoro's way), is no doubt clear enough in the old one's tone. But rather than linger on such sour notes, the spirit moves on to other matters of importance. "Will you do me a favor, child? Send for my daughter, Tadewi. Let her know that it is time for her to return home." The Amaranth will no doubt certainly be in need of spiritual guidance in the moons to come. She won't say that her bloodline is tainted, or even cursed, but if Nayeli's heart and mind aren't in the right place, then the tribe is in need of proper guidance, something that even she cannot provide on a consistent basis.
"Of course, grandmother." The words are spoken formally, and it takes every bit of self-control Nayeli possesses to turn around without betraying the feeling of being lost and out of control, like a rock tumbling down the side of their great mountain. She wants to thank her grandmother for speaking with her, but gratitude is suppressed to the point where it would take more convincing than she's capable of to make Paoro believe that she really means it. But she can't just leave without.. /something/, can she? A pause. And a whispered, "Until next time, grandmother," --and Nayeli resumes her slow, stiff gait away from the formations and back toward the more densely forested slopes of the mountain. Finality has such a bitter taste to it.
Paoro watches her granddaughter turn and walk away, for better or for worse, with sorrow only half-hidden in her blankly-staring white eyes. As Nayeli walks away, the dreamlike figure she was speaking with only seconds before begins to dissolve, fading away from the bottom up as the dust comprising her temporary form scatters with the winter winds -- and, with a quiet sigh, the apparition is no more.
Nayeli, female cougar
Paoro, female cougar spirit
=== Stone Formations ===
It had been forever ago since she had cried as hard as she had. Ironically, also due to Kein, though this time there's the bitter taste of finality, as Nayeli feels absolutely certain that there will not be a dream to reunite them nor any parental guidance to help foster the reconciliation of their friendship. This time... it's finished. There's a weary depression that has replaced the shock and horror from earlier, with the unpleasant addition of bitterness. She's not entirely sure who she's more upset with, she or Kein, or even with Nyssa. Is it the other female's fault that she attracted Kein to this extent? But now the tears have dried, though the irony still runs strong; her paws have brought her here to the location where she once had a dream, both literally and figuratively. Perhaps a subconscious wish that history would repeat itself? Or perhaps it's a more pragmatic reason: the solitude. Unsure of what to make of her life now, the best remedy, as she remembers from long-ago lessons, is time and thought. Reflection.
In the many eons that Snowcrest Mountain has towered over the lowlands surrounding it, spanning far more generations than even the long-lived Amaranth tribe can dare to claim, its valleys and peaks have served as a temporary home for a number of spirits of creatures past, and the stories and rumors that accompany their occasional visits. The present is no exception, though there is a particular Guardian of the Mountain who now watches over the lands of her family. The ancient shaman's ghost has been stirred from her heavenly slumber once more by the feelings of deep anguish and sorrow of one of her own bloodline, and she does not delay in making herself known to Nayeli, appearing from behind one of the larger rocks found in this sacred place. Unlike the usually more ethereal form the spirit tends to take, this time she appears almost exactly like she did when she was still alive, with the exception of her pupil-less eyes, and a slightly translucent sheen to her feline frame. Perhaps Nayeli has cried herself to sleep, and she is dreaming? Or perhaps the more corporeal form is merely a stronger illusion than is usually perceived. "Granddaughter," the aged one intones, padding over with paws that scarcely touch the ground beneath them, "why do you cry?" Even though the tears are dried, Paoro can no doubt see beyond the mere physical realm, and into the matron's own heart and mind.
Maybe she really is dreaming. Irony strikes again, to dream, but of something other than what she was hoping for. And yet, would such a different dream be unwelcome or unwanted? Solace from her grandmother, spirit or not, would still be much-wanted comfort, and Nayeli feels the first glimmer of hope at hearing the other's voice. Even as long as it's been since their last contact, it's instant recognition and a glimpse--barely--of a smile touches Nayeli's maw. "It is.. good to see you again, Grandmother." She takes a deep breath, trying to bring her thoughts into focus. One can't exactly exchange normal pleasantries with a spirit, after all, familial or not. But how to answer the stated question? "I was.. informed-" There's a twinge of bitterness in the word. "-that Kein is not only expecting cubs with another Sister, but is leaving me to be with her." Her voice shakes. "It's /over/, Grandmother! I can't.. I just can't..." Is there a need to finish her sentence? The implication should be obvious enough.
Listening as she approaches, Paoro's first response is not a verbal one, but instead a loving embrace of her cheek against Nayeli's, though the other feels nothing more than a faint, warm breeze from the gesture. "You /can/, Nayeli. Your blood is strong, and both your mother and myself prevailed and endured even in the face of opposition that threatened to crush our very spirits. The issue is not whether or not you can or cannot -- it is whether you /want/ to." The spirit's muzzle spreads in the slightest of knowing smiles, as though to show that even if Nayeli does not, her grandmother will not be disappointed in her. Settling down on her haunches across from her descendant, the shamaness continues to speak. "We matrons are no strangers to heartbreak, my child. Try as I may to shield the Amaranth from tragedy, both in my life and beyond it, it is merely a facet of life. If we do not feel the pain of sadness, how can we ever feel the pleasure of joy?" Paoro pauses in her diatribe to lift a see-through paw to Nayeli's chin, and although there is no actual physical contact, perhaps the gesture is reassuring enough. "Your mother sacrificed herself for the good of the tribe when her mate threatened to shatter the heart of her family, and I feel the Amaranth as a whole is still recovering from that severe fracture. Kein is far from the fiend that took the life of his mother -- but he is just as deeply affected by that tragic course of events as you are."
Even as the ethereal form of her grandmother speaks to her, Nayeli can already see the referred-to scenes as though she were still there. Yes, the death of her parents was indeed a fracture, but it was her own faith in Paoro's belief that she and Kein were to be the healing of that fracture, the pair and team that would bring Amaranth through that dark time in its history, that caused her to pull through her sorrow over all the pain and sudden loss. The hints of affection bring another glimpse of a smile, though this one stays just a bit longer than the last. "Grandmother, I.. I don't.." She collects herself, then tries again. "I'm not trying to sound as though I'm the only one who's ever had a difficult time." The matron hesitates, then adds, "But you never had Ahiga leave you for another... right?" She hadn't initially intended for it to be a question, assuming that surely her grandmother would have told her a long time ago if such had occurred. Her ears flatten slightly and her tail twitches uneasily. She's already as much admitted that she doesn't know how to proceed from here, if not in so many words.
"No, he did not leave me for another...but he did leave, once. When the disease came to our lands, he disappeared, and I thought I had lost him to the plague. I did not find out until many moons later that he was indeed alive, having left the tribe without warning when he became ill, so as to keep his family from becoming ill as well." The wispy frame of the shamaness shivers in a passing breeze, then resettles once more. "I know that is far from what you are going through, but...it could be much worse, my child. Think of what your mother must have felt when she discovered her own chieftain's...'indiscretions' with Maulisho." Paoro says nothing further on the topic, knowing full well that neither of them particularly wish to relive that tragic part of their past. "I do not wish to belittle your heartbreak, Nayeli, but I must admit that, despite what the storytellers claim, I am not all-knowing in all things. I can only offer what guidance I can, and you must discover the rest yourself." Despite these seemingly concluding words, the ethereal form remains still, lingering among the stone formations for as long as her granddaughter desires her company and conversation.
So her grandmother's mate did leave, but for a noble reason, and it all worked out well in the end. That initial glimmer of hope that she might receive encouragement and instruction has now faded. Not that she doesn't appreciate what her grandmother is trying to tell her, but... there hasn't been a single word of advice or admonition yet. Only gentle reminders of how she's not the only one who's suffered. But... what now? How to proceed? Where to go? What to do? She's still just as lost as she was before this conversation, and it doesn't look like her questions are going to be answered, as the seeming doubt in Paoro's words only causes the matron's ears to flatten even more, and all traces of a smile are now gone. Guidance? "You're right, of course," Nayeli says dully, looking over at one of the stone pillars. "It could be much worse." Small comfort, if any.
Paoro, as always, seems to comprehend the unspoken as she now attempts to steer the subject away from the specific heartbreak of her mate's departure and towards the other, less obvious, matter at paw. "Earlier, you said that you 'can't'...can't what, my child?" The shamaness has an idea of what Nayeli might have meant, but she does not wish to put words in the mouth of one who is perfectly capable of speaking for herself.
Nayeli opens her mouth as if to answer, then finally just shrugs. "Like you said, it's not an issue." She can't meet her grandmother's eyes, afraid of what she'll see in the older cougaress' gaze. Disappointment? Reproach? Regret? But knowing that she's not going to be able to get away with that answer alone, she finally adds, bitterness once again lacing her voice, "I can't accept it." She won't. Can't. Kein may try and sugarcoat it with words of how he still loves her, despite his actions, and how this was all brought on by her words to him, but... regardless of the /why/, /he/ is the one who has done this. But no amount of rational conclusion can convince her to accept what has happened.
If anything, the intangible face of the revered shamaness holds a vaguely discernible expression of faint sadness, though not at anything Nayeli has said or done. "There are many things in the world that are so incomprehensible or bewildering that we refuse to accept them as true...the death of a child before our own, or even merely making a decision that seems right at the time that turns out to be a grave mistake later on." In Paoro's case, that mistaken decision directly led to the death of her own firstborn child. "But whether we come to accept it or not, life goes on, as it always has, and always will. The best we can do is try to move on with it." With a soft sigh, Paoro's eerily blank eyes focus on Nayeli's own before continuing. "Perhaps it is time for you to move on as well, Nayeli." Her words are not intended to be a subtle innuendo that the matron should step down, but merely an acceptance of her own of the consideration that it may be time for such a transition.
Time for her to move on? The matron knows that there's disbelief painting her features, but at this point in the conversation, she really doesn't care. "I'll never accept this," she mutters under her breath, more to herself than to her grandmother's ears. Her head slowly shakes from side to side as she repeats Paoro's words over and over again in her mind. Time for her to move on. Move on with it. Life goes on. She stops suddenly, as if realizing that the other is waiting on some sort of response. "This was not to be, grandmother," she says in a flat tone. "Either I have failed in my role as the tribe's matron and as mate to the chieftain, or else Kein has committed a betrayal of his family and of Amaranth." She doesn't vocalize her next thought, though she's sure Paoro no doubt would think the same: Like her father did. Maybe not quite in the same way, but still...
The ghostly form of Paoro lowers its head in woe, perhaps even defeat in response to Nayeli's statement. "None of this was, my child. When the spirits spoke to your mother while she was still carrying you within her belly, it was foretold that Misae, the pale one, would be Chosen. But, as you said...this was not to be." It's hard to read the details in the otherwise shifting, translucent expression on Paoro's face, but the clear lines of sorrow are hard to miss. The deviations in Fate's course, the lives that were taken, the spirits disturbed...all of the painful memories have been brought up far too many times in one sitting for either of their sakes, but if their broken past is ever to be repaired, it must be faced and confronted. "You have not failed, granddaughter. You were chosen to lead when you were not the /Chosen/ -- if Amaranth's spiritual path was irreparably fractured after that great, horrible wrong was committed by the last chieftain, it is hardly any fault of your own. Nor is it Kein's. He did what he could, and he protected the tribe he was named to defend."
Nayeli listens, but as devoid of any expression as if she were one of the great stone formations. Never once before in her life had she ever considered the possibility of one day disagreeing with her grandmother so strongly over something. When something this fracturing happens... /someone/ must be at fault. And if it's not her own fault, then it must be Kein. How else can the death of their relationship be explained? It might be a guilty outlet of rage were she to blame Nyssa for all of this and seek vengeance accordingly, but were Kein to truly be loyal and devoted to her, it wouldn't have mattered how hard Nyssa had tempted him. Or is it because Kein felt betrayed by her? Whose fault is it? Whichever the case, whoever to blame... she cannot accept this and just "move on". Never. "You're right, grandmother. Of course, Sketch could hardly have been called part of our tribe, despite being under our protection." Now she's just venting; of course Kein did the best he could, but he couldn't be everywhere at once.
Paoro has her own solid theory on who is to blame for where things went wrong, and were her grandchild to ask, she would speak the name 'Chesmu' without a heartbeat of hesitation. But Nayeli does not, and while Paoro may be wise, she is not a mind-reader. At the bitter words, the shamaness' fog-like frame shudders, briefly veiling the emotions (distress? regret? disappointment?) on her face. "I did not come to argue with my own blood, Nayeli." The reproach, while subtle (as is Paoro's way), is no doubt clear enough in the old one's tone. But rather than linger on such sour notes, the spirit moves on to other matters of importance. "Will you do me a favor, child? Send for my daughter, Tadewi. Let her know that it is time for her to return home." The Amaranth will no doubt certainly be in need of spiritual guidance in the moons to come. She won't say that her bloodline is tainted, or even cursed, but if Nayeli's heart and mind aren't in the right place, then the tribe is in need of proper guidance, something that even she cannot provide on a consistent basis.
"Of course, grandmother." The words are spoken formally, and it takes every bit of self-control Nayeli possesses to turn around without betraying the feeling of being lost and out of control, like a rock tumbling down the side of their great mountain. She wants to thank her grandmother for speaking with her, but gratitude is suppressed to the point where it would take more convincing than she's capable of to make Paoro believe that she really means it. But she can't just leave without.. /something/, can she? A pause. And a whispered, "Until next time, grandmother," --and Nayeli resumes her slow, stiff gait away from the formations and back toward the more densely forested slopes of the mountain. Finality has such a bitter taste to it.
Paoro watches her granddaughter turn and walk away, for better or for worse, with sorrow only half-hidden in her blankly-staring white eyes. As Nayeli walks away, the dreamlike figure she was speaking with only seconds before begins to dissolve, fading away from the bottom up as the dust comprising her temporary form scatters with the winter winds -- and, with a quiet sigh, the apparition is no more.