//send.me{an}a n g e l___ open

[Iadali {Paolynn} Aerandir]

When was the sun coming? --- night stretched out like eternity with it's gentle caresses, sneaking into her dreams, into her very heart. She saw what she didn't want to see; she heard voices she wished never to hear again -- only because of the pain. Only the grief. But grief was inescapable: it warped your mind, heavied your spirit but you could only bear it until time made it numb. No matter how horrible, memory was a fickle thing. Iadali dreamed of love, of dashing young smiles that were never cast her way. She dreamt of adventure, of rain, warm and wet on her face -- she dreamt of sunlight, heat flushed on her skin. There was no end to the tumble of thoughts, slipping past one another as if racing forward, tumbling faster and faster down the spiraling steps toward the center of her heart. She existed in these dreams as she didn't in life: with happiness, with grief, with her walls completely shattered around her. The covers tangled around her legs, sweat pooling in the small of her back, the crook of her neck, sheets sticking to her, holding her down -- eyelashes fluttered but she was gone, gone.

A smile played along the edges of her pale lips.

Life tickled her cheek into laughter, summoning up scents and touches that resided deeper than physical memory. What the mind forgot, the body remembered. And she remembered when her eyes were fluttered so quietly closed, with her breath hitching only during excitement. No fear now, only standing against the tide; only flying as she spread her arms and wings burst forth. She lifted herself up into the sky and left it all behind: yes, yes, she was free, and she wasn't falling. She was alive, and love showered her in it's golden bath.

Iadali rolled over in her sleep, succumbing to the motion of the flight in her dreams: she rolled, shifted, moved as if by restless need she could accomplish what her soul wanted. Gravity pulled at her, reality sucking at the edges of her perception: the clouds in her brilliant sky darkened, and the grief that weighed so heavily in her heart made her sink deeper and deeper. She could not fly, not yet, not yet -- she could not ascend to that glorious heaven, that wondrous place of warmth and laughter: she reached her hand out, out, out, seeking that touch of clouds, wondering what it felt like, if it was as comfortable as it looked.

She reached, and fell.

The hard floor met her, hard. Jolted awake, her eyelids flashed open -- and night filled in her vision. Sheets tangled about her legs, Dali sat up, haphazardly, her hair all awry, her vision mottled as if stricken by sun-blindness. She smiles, ever so slightly, though there is a little bit of pain. She smiles because what else was there to do? Amusement puckered her eyebrows as she gathered her legs up from under her -- the silence of the night was no longer suppressive: she knew that dawn was coming. Feeling it in her heart, she peered out the window, gathering the bundle of white hair in her hands and untangling the edges -- her eyes sought the sun, though only the vaguest twilight met her eyes. She glittered under the fading moonlight: her heart yearned.

This was the in between time; Dali hummed quietly under her breath as she drew on her white dress, grabbing her shawl and her basket -- and swept right out the door, in silence, but for the thrumming sound of her voice, light as air. She moved with grace, unparalleled, seeking the spiritual comfort that human hands could never give her. She ached, because she was never touched -- sensitivity heightened her senses to pricks of needles on her skin. The cold kissed her arms in the dark of morning; the crunch of grass under her shoes soothed her nerves.

Here, was safety -- was the calm she wanted, sought with uncaring vigilance. Without calm, without serenity, what would she be but another hapless victim flailing around in the dark. Her passions were quiet, like the deepest ocean, surging forward at such a slow pace. She felt, no doubt about it, but felt with the steadying tide of predictability. Her heart was moved by the fading moon as she tilted her head back, breathed in the first calming breath of air. Everything moved around her, pulsing with a sleepy life -- birds were waking, chirping, chirping -- the sun was coming, coming, and she smiled to see it coming, smiled because she was safe here, in this niche of hell. Safe, because the darkness was a natural dark and had nothing to do with the torment of the dark magic. Dali didn't stifle grief: she let it flow, like an aching wound making her body feel like a wound. Emotions poured out, but it was good, and right.

She bent over and picked up a small spine of mint, bringing the puckered leaf to her nose and inhaling the earthy scent of comfort. She hummed, but it soon began a thrumming sound of her voice, singing, singing, so softly -- calling forth the dawn, though it moved at pace of her own emotions. So slow, but steadily spilling forth, coming, coming, banishing the dark from her heart. She smiles ever so slightly as she sings, little bit of mint in her hands as paced around the grove, reveling in the growth, the natural smell of earth and life.

Light was coming, and with the light, everything would be okay.

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word count;; 942
tags;; Open to anyone ;3
OOC;; Debut post. Even nostalgic, she makes me happy T^T

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[Hayyel Crawford]

She was a creature of darkness. One that moved perfectly at night, because of her heightened eyesight. She was sitting on a branch, looking at the dawn rising. It was beautiful. The gods of the sky had painted it with blushing colors or orange, red, pink, and light purple. The clouds were coming out, fluffy and cotton-like and were coming to rest just above the rising sun. She was in the Herb Grove, her knee bent up and foot resting on a thick branch of a sycamore. Her other leg dangled down below it. Her back was resting against the trunk. In her jacket and combat boots were four daggers, all in sheaths, one of them curved wickedly, and was one foot long. She was waiting for something to happen.

Then a girl came running into the herb. Well more like gliding, she moved with grace and beauty even though she didn't look pretty. She was cute but not pretty. Hayyel watched and listened, her voice carried by the wind, danced up to the red head and she closed her eyes in pleasure at the sound. It was a wonderful voice she had, and Hayyel recognized it. This was Iadali. As she picked up the sprig of mint Hayyel stood on the thick branch, keeping her balance quite well, and then jumped down from it.

She landed on all fours, and tilted her head, looking up at the little girl she had landed in front of. She didn't know Iadali well, but she knew the rumors about the girl. But Hayyel wasn't one to believe rumors. She made judgment on others with her own mind. She stood in a graceful sweeping motion and smiled down at Iadali, "Hello, you have a wonderful voice. Why are you up so early and all alone?" Being a Protector Hayyel was almost always keeping watch on the village. And she could take care of herself very well, but she wondered why this girl hadn't been picked off by one of the night stalking mutations of the Forest.

Words: 350
Muse: Good
Song: N/A

[Iadali {Paolynn} Aerandir]

Who knew what blood flowed through her veins, what voices echoed out from the past and clutched at her heart? They were silent, and she was ignorant. All she knew was her desires that pulsed like lapping water at her ears, at her feet, sucking her in to the rhythm that existed between everyone. Children grew up differently; this child, so young for one who felt so wise in the ways of the world, was just like the rest. She cried, she laughed, she smiled, but there was a solemnity about her lips that urged others to mark her as different. Arrogance never stiffened shoulders so poignantly as her grace. Dali could dance like a swan; but she did not. She could sing like a nightingale, but only when she was alone did she let herself fall into that beautiful sound. Only then, when there was only herself, her soul and the forest, could she bring herself to open up her heart and pour out her emotions.

Storms flickered in the deep chambers of her heart, surging forward, gathering, gathering: but not yet. One hand resting on her chest, she feels the humming of her pulse echoing with that in her head. A big one was coming -- her eyes flickered closed as the light spilled over the edge of twilight, brightening the sky, the ground, her face. How to describe that feeling of elation, of completion?

One more night banished. One more day to live, and live well -- she knew death was coming for her; each day marked another day lost to live. Iadali was not afraid; yet another mark against her. The wind came as if summoned by her loneliness, playing with her hair, brushing it back like a banner -- she inhales the scent of mint, filling her senses with the earthy comfort of home. But a shadow crosses her path.

Darkness falls over the light and smothers it; a candle goes out, too weak against the dark. Branches twitch, creak, groan -- air sighs as the darkness fills it's place and lands beside her; she is a creature of violence -- blood taints the very air she breathes. Disgust fills her, pooling in her stomach and making her nauseous; scars enough, hard enough, there is no mistaking the older girl for anything other than what she was: a bringer of death. Creatures stalked the night, and the darkness stalked them in turn. "Hayyel." she breathes, softly, her voice quieter than it had been when she had felt herself alone. Shy now, aware now; her eyelids flicker, lowering her sight, but she watched from under lashes. Dali knows danger when it crosses her path -- it is not so hard to see a snake that coils around your throat, it's fangs bared to bury in your neck. Not so hard at all.

Her hand falls, mint forgotten, nightmare forgotten. Here, life breathed, filthy, sweaty, heaving with the adrenaline of the night. Had she been out so long? Dali admits to curiosity but does not breathe life into the thought. There is no good in associating with this one; too many adore her. At the very least, little one did not fall from her lips.

At the very least, blood did not sting the air around her. Not yet, anyway. Could she hide the disgust? No, no -- it spread like poison over her delicate features, a ripple of truth quickly smoothed over, but glimpsed nonetheless. Cold marble, now. Deep waters.

Why are you up so early and all alone?

[/i] Her eyes lift up almost boldly, mostly not; Hayyel's entire body is built like a knife, meant for intimidation. The slender little reed of a girl beside her should bend down in fear -- but she has banished fear. Instead, there is only calm. Only that little curdling of disgust, revulsion in her stomach. Where was the compassion? "I don't sleep a lot." she says, because she has never had the knack of lying. She is an open book, written in a flowing hand for all to see. "You don't look like you sleep at all." she says, little fingers dancing up to curl her hair behind her ear. She smiles, kindly, but there is tension tightening her eyes. She is waiting for the blow.

Iadali is waiting for the moment that always comes, and yet dreads. No point in that, silly girl! she thinks so contritely, and smiles wider at the inner thought. Who was she to stand straight backed? "Mr. Blackwell is low on herbs." she murmurs, as if in apology for the silent laughter. Her bright eyes shift away from Hayyel, toward the horizon which glowed with neon delight. It cast colors dancing across her skin, her eyes, her hair and explosion of glittering white. Sunlight, at last. Her face warms. [/color][/size][/blockquote]

word count;; 808
tags;; Hayyel // anyone <33
OOC;; I find her so cute o.o though she is a bit of a bitch, isn't she? LOL

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[Hayyel Crawford]

Hayyel stiffened for a moment, there was disgust darkening the girl's eyes. As she spoke Hayyel's name it was almost angry. She drew herself up tall, her back straightening like a rod of metal. But then the revulsion and anger was gone, hidden behind a mask. Hayyel could tell it was a mask, it was cold and unmoving. She didn't tend to like people who held back their emotions from the world. But she spoke with truth, perhaps the Hunter could over look the hidden emotions. She let her body relax and come back into the graceful, fluid movements of the predator she was.

She inhaled quietly, scenting the air for the girl's smell. It was crisp like fresh fallen snow that had yet to be touched. It was the smell of purity. As she said something about Hayyel not sleeping she was nodding, "I don't sleep much anymore. I have to...," she trailed of and stopped. She had almost said protect. But a job of a Hunter was not to protect it was to kill, so it was not smart for her to mention protecting to this girl who was not one of the guild.

Mr. Blackwell was low on herbs? Was that why she was out here? Or was that just an excuse so as to not give something away? No Hayyel was being paranoid again, like she always was now a days. This girl had not been touched by the Dark. She was safe. Pure and kind, she was really someone that Hayyel could trust without fear. "Is that why you're out here? Do you need help gathering things? I am pretty good at picking out herbs once you tell me what you need, I can always offer help. No one is up yet really, so I have nothing to do," the last part was a little lie. She rarely lied, but if it was about protecting the Village or the Protectors themselves then it was worth it.

Words: 337
Muse: Good
Song: Suddenly I See- KT Tunstall

[Iadali {Paolynn} Aerandir]

How many times has she been misjudged? How many sentences cut off, and that inevitable look cast her way. If they noticed her at all, that is. She knew the taste of sorrow; knew the way the crowd shifted for her wasn't because they wanted to be nice. It was fear, all of it. She was tainted goods, meant for darker things, surely. Just look at her -- and Dali knew they were scrutinizing her hair, her eyes, her hands, her nails: looking for the taint. The poison of death. She was destined to die a traitor, though it wasn't anything to do with her.

The younger kids were worse. Much worse; trained by the older generation to hate her with a burning passion. How many times had she been forced to bite her tongue against the tears? How many times had she curled up in the dark around the burning pain of rejection? So Iadali was certain she could see truth in a ll the lies. She was certain, assuredly confident that the moment someone who was misjudged passed her sight she could point it out and extend a hand.

Well, she had been wrong. It hurt her, that she had been so fierce in her own way. That she had rejected kindness, and only given spite back. The disgust shamed her; so much that she burned red. So much that she trembled, her skin puckering in goose bumps. "I don't sleep much anymore. I have to...

[/i] ---- her attention shifted, slowly, like the tide rising up against the shore, always coming back, inevitable, timely. It came, because it must-- and she must, as the water, turn those glorious eyes to the killer. A pause, trailing off -- she did not miss it, but only her mouth twitched, before smoothness came like calm. How many times did she say she saw this? Those eyes slipped over her, wondering, so briefly, but the sentence was never finished. Iadali forgave her; she forgave them all for excluding her. In truth, she didn't blame them.

Sorrow washed her vision with blue.

Is that why you're out here? Do you need help gathering things? I am pretty good at picking out herbs once you tell me what you need, I can always offer help. No one is up yet really, so I have nothing to do.[/i] Ah! Guilt struck her right in the heart. She couldn't lie again; it burned her tongue like acid.

Iadali flushed pink, a charming color against the paleness of her skin; her eyes shifted up as she wrung her hands along the edges of the basket. "Not really." she murmurs, so softly it's almost inaudible. Shyness makes her eyes slip to the side; she couldn't bare being caught so horribly in a lie. "He is low, though. I saw it." --- but could she ever mention that she would never dare say a word about it? Could she admit how much it frightened her of asking if he needed help, in case he was like the others -- telling her to go away? No, no, better to be this way, to quietly gather what he needed and leave them for the nurses to pick up. They didn't need to know. Hayyel didn't need to know. No one did.

She had the reputation for being a pariah, for adoring her solitude; why bother telling them otherwise? "I'm just... really good at it, I guess." she shrugs her narrow, bird-like shoulders, her whip-thin body quivering like an arrow to be loosed. So ready to fly, though she had no destination. Too eager to move away though there was nothing for her to do.

Only able to flick her eyes up, she looked at the older girl, embarrassed. "How's your wound?" [/color][/size][/blockquote]

word count;; 630
tags;; Hayyel // anyone
OOC;; ah my muse is being ridiculous.

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[Hayyel Crawford]

She frowned as her keen eyes saw the blush redden the young girl's cheeks. Iadali seemed, unsure about something. Her perfected hearing caught the words that she had murmured, something most wouldn't hear but Hayyel had no problem picking out as the mutated birds began to sing that wonderful and yet strange music to the rising sun. The music was odd because it warbled and seemed to have patterns that only composers would make, not some creature. But it touched the ears and had you hanging on their every note. The birds of the Forest were one of the less frightening beasts. Most of them were small enough that they couldn't do damage and were less aggressive than any of the mammals or reptiles.

Her attention was whisked away for a second as she glanced up to listen to the songs, but then as Iadali began to speak again her attention was riveted on the pale girl again. She wasn't making much sense now and Hayyel frowned slightly in confusion. What did Iadali mean? Did she need Hayyel's help or not? She then directed the conversation to Hayyel's wound. Of course, she would know about that. The Village was a small community of curious children. Hayyel wondered if she knew about the Hunter's fight with Rook too.

She glanced back at her leg which was now covered in bulky bandages which mad a bulge in her jean legging. She wasn't limping much anymore and she could jump on it fine. It wasn't taking pressure that hurt it, it was stretching it mostly. It had been a week since the horrible fight with the mutated mountain lion. A week since she had thrown herself in front of that young Hunter to protect him from getting gutted. The claws had missed him and slashed open her calf muscle instead, without fear Hayyel had turned and sliced open the poor creature's throat. The weight of the kill still rested in her heart, just like every kill did, though she felt she was doing what was best for the animals and putting them out of their misery, she still felt for them.

With a shrug she said, "I still feel a little pain but it's nothing I can't live with. It will heal soon enough." Tilting her head she asked, "Something is bothering you?"

Words: 402
Muse: Awesome =L
Song: Dace with the Devil- Breaking Benjamin