White noise, white light in the deep.

[» S i m e l l o]

Muse | Thread; OPEN.

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[Iadali {Paolynn} Aerandir]

There was no place in her heart for sadness; she had to hold onto the precious little happiness left in the world. So she existed, in this daze, walking through the hours as if they were passing as ponderously as days. Her feet walked, her body moved -- but her mind was cast outward, reaching for an existence that could never truly belong to her. Sadness weighed her down, binding her to earth when all she wanted to do was to fly. When all she wanted was to be loved -- but there was an entire village full to the brim of needy children aching for the loss of the love. She felt it on her skin: she did not need to have powers to see it with her eyes. It pressed against her, unheeded, ignored, but she still knew it was there. Iadali could no more dismiss it than she could forsake her heart and become a black stain on the wall.

Perception had dimmed during the week as sleepless nights had called her from a cold, terrible bed -- the dark went on and on and on, moments steeped in grief and self-pity. If she had been able to drink herself into a stupor, perhaps she would have considered it -- but she had a purpose, and she reminded herself to stand taller than she was. She must walk straighter than she wanted, to smile though she was burdened with the ache of hurt and rejection. Alone, as always. Compassionate and broke because of it.

Her heart was bleeding, and there was no one here who would stand beside her and help her clean up the mess. Only herself, and her wandering shadow; only the cold that crept up her spine when her eyes crossed along the silhouette of that darkness.

They all looked at her as if they waited with baited breath to sprout wings and horns; as if she were the cause of it all. Perhaps, in a way, she was just a link in a chain that would be stronger if she no longer existed. Perhaps, in a way, the village would breathe easier if she no longer showed her face in the sunlight.

But again, she could no more forsake the light, than cleave the grief from her heart. Sorrow made her shine; the imperceptible calm of her exterior rippled with the steady currents of her unhappiness. I must be happy! -- and she tries so hard to be so.

She tries, while others look at her sideways, avoiding her vibrant gaze when she feels their stares on her back. She tries, as she gathers her basket and heads out toward the herb copse. She tries, though she feels as if the stares are heavier than bricks on her shoulders; though she feels the oncoming storm brewing out in the forests. She must go -- she has been called.

Do they know what she does? Does Iadali care? In her own way, she wants to be complimented, to be noticed, and gratified -- but there is no witness here. There is no one to pat her head and smile so tenderly. No strength but that which she makes for herself. There is precious little of that, to begin with.

To make herself strong, Dali gathers her salves and her poultices, her threads, and her little bits of food. She lifts her chin, though she wants only to duck her head in embarrassment: even when there is no one here. Even as the forest surrounds her, and she finds herself following pathways that lead away from the grove. Finds herself falling down a line of thought that runs parallel to her heart: darkness glitters menacingly from coiled branches-- or is that a snake? Heaviness weighs like lead. Breath comes suffused with poison. This is not for her -- but her feet will not lead her in another direction.

She pauses at the sound of death, her eyes questioning, probing the shadows, searching, frightened, but not. Fearless, but most definitely cautious. She could die -- but what could that truly do to her? Release her? She smiles, grimly. She exists, because she has no where to go. The sound of suffering wrenches at her heart; Dali feels the pulsations of a storm gathering, brewing, intensifying at the outer reaches of the forest. Summoned, called -- but she cannot leave compassion aside for duty. It is not in her nature. These creatures cannot help the way they have been mutated.

Hefting the basket, she slips through the brush, through coils of vines, and leaves, and the heat that comes off of the trees. Stifled, hating the gathering of suffocation in her lungs, she tries to move off the path and into the denser growth. The sound, where did it go? Was it dead already? Devoured? She aches to cry. Burning sensations crawl over her face as she holds it back.

------ but it is too late. She cannot be hidden in shadow: with white hair, crystal sea-green eyes, the palest skin, she is a doll cast out in the mud. Even filthy, she glows. Even in shadow, she cannot be hidden -- and she is staring. At a hunter, no less. At danger. Peril. Her heart contracts -- but she cannot force herself to open her mouth.

Iadali steps back away from the other girl, and stumbles over twisting roots; she catches herself, biting her lip against a sound, but a crack of breaking wood echoes through the forest. Sound. Her sound. Like a deer, she freezes, as if anticipating the impact of an arrow through her heart.

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word count;; 942
tags;; Simello ^^
OOC;; I couldn't resist, hope you don't mind <33

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[» S i m e l l o]

Muse | I don't mind at all. :3 This should be interesting.

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The blood came from the poultry that hung in-front of her, feathers plucked and set to the side on the ground, later to be used by one of the village's cloth-makers as accessories, or a wood worker as such.. perhaps one of the smaller children that enjoyed collecting strange things. Simello had already began gutting the bird, the large hat she used to protect her gaze from sunlight temporarily being used as a bowl. The guts she had managed to pull from the bird sat inside, blood gathering underneath them.

Aware how the scene would seem to a small girl, Simello dropped her hand, not sure where to go from here.

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Of course, Simello would not be finished for a while yet. She had to clean the meat from the bones, then clean the bones themselves. bind them tightly so as not to lose anything usable. Then she had to cut the innards open and clean them of waste, after which she would set out the bird's wings as an offering to its ancestors. Would the little girl, who seemed so frail and easily startled, be able to stand something like that? The gore had once bothered Simello, until she had learned it was necessary.

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Emotion did not touch Simello's face, but she was confused on what to do next. Simello didn't know the girls name, but they had talked briefly here and there in the village. Nothing monumental, as far as Simello could recollect. More often Simello had spotted the girl on her own, not playing with the others. She knew not why, but had never honestly wondered in depth before.

Pulling the dagger she had left sitting in the bird's torso, Simello went back to cutting the bird open, slicing its head clean from its shoulders. Blood spilled, but did not fly out in all directions, most of it already seeping into the ground underneath the hanging bird. Either the girl would stay or she would run in terror. Either way, Simello had to finish quickly to accompany the small thing back to the village.

Protectiveness kicking in, a trait that had become common with her since spending the last few years in the village, Simello's expression was set hard into her features. She was not angry, but rather, intent on finishing as quickly as possible.[/color][/size][/ul]

[Iadali {Paolynn} Aerandir]

It was as if her heart was running ahead of her, just out of reach -- no matter how many times she reached out her hands to grab it, it flitted just a few steps before her. She could run, but she could never catch up. It was as if the world was intent on her being separated from the pulsing, aching longing that she yearned for -- it was as if she could never become a woman, with a woman's feelings, a woman's hearts. It was as if the storm held it all for her in the palm of it's hands, coaxing her, blessing her, destroying her. She could feel it, still. Always, always -- just there, at the edges of her perception. Ineffable but truly, truly there, lingering in her mind in ways that tempted her to newer thoughts, newer paths to re-walk and see anew. It was how she viewed the world: through the wreak of a storm, lashing out at the work and creating life in the chaos.

It was how she knew that sometimes, just sometimes, there is life in death. With each painful pull of flesh from bone, each deft motion of older hands, still smooth, still young, making order out of the chaos of that horrible death, Dali was cast into confusion. Her peace was destroyed in one sentence. Her world turned to chaos with one rebellious emotion: spite. Fear not, little one. I have no intentions of harming you.

[/b] Little one, always the younger -- but it was an unworthy thought, and one quickly cast away. Her heart was caught by the calmness, but the efficiency with which the older woman dealt with blood and death on her hands. A monster? Truly?

She was not some blade poised for intimidation. No, no, she was definitely no Hayyel, with hard, flat eyes. Dali's heart stammered out a drumming pattern, skipping, tripping and reasserting itself: but she could not touch the emotional knot she craved. Instead, she felt her pulse rising, rising, then slowing, so much like the tide. Too much like deep ocean, feeling things at such a depth it was almost impossible to tell she felt at all. Like stone, like water, her expression smoothed into calmness, into a semblance of politeness. Curiosity stung her eyes, but she cast it away. What use in lingering?

Iadali twitched, gathering her basket to her as if she were to simply ignore the words, ignore the ferocious burning in her veins that itched to know this woman. Who was she? Vague memories of shadows danced in her mind's eye. Brief, poignant stare -- little words. Indifference. The bite of it was here now -- as if human contact was awkward and terrible, a thing to be cast off and scorned. But she was trying. Such effort, little as it was, persuaded the girl to remain where she was -- long enough to hear: I`ll be finished soon and walk you back to the village after. You should not be walking here on your own.

This time, there was no accompanying anger. Dali accepted the criticism for what it was: she did not know. She could not possibly know how grateful they would all be if she let Dali slip away into the forest to be devoured by the first beast that came across her path. Could not possibly know, even in the recesses of the young girl's heart burned a passion and thirst for the quieter things in life -- things that had nothing at all to do with the village, nothing at all to do with quiet, hurtful stares. Whispers in the dark. Laughter, scoffing. Insecurities. How many ways did Iadali have to bend before she was acceptable again? Ever? Her smile in response was painful, but along the edges she felt the stirrings of hope -- there was no point in lingering in sadness.

Like old clothes, she tore it off of her and cast herself anew in the sea of these emotions. Better to be rubbed raw than to hold onto sadness. But the grief could never be outrun. It dogged her as determinedly as she pursued her own heart. Or at the very least, the idealistic view she had of a heart in need of love and affection. Dali had been so long without, perhaps she had forgotten the most important thing of all.

Eyes like diamonds. No, no, like water, ever shifting, but bright, so bright -- as if sunlight danced along the playful waves. She watched the other in silence, unable to answer without giving way to an emotion that was slowly, hurtfully growing under her chest. It swerved, jutting out through the bone -- she could not help the burst of emotion coloring her cheeks, as she came closer, on her toes, moving gracefully around roots and twigs and death. She moved as if she were dancing, no longer unstrung by her fear. This one, she realized, was like death. It came swift, and purposeful. It was not the usual brutal intensity, the dark laughter -- Dali rubbed her hands over her arms, feeling prickles of goosebumps. Most hunters -- no, no, Killers -- crawled over her skin like slime, always tainting her air with the black shadow of hate. They killed for vengeance. They killed because they found joy in it. Those types of people, Dali could never understand: but this one? With her quick motions, quiet, so quiet.. this on was not so bad. Her skin didn't crawl -- she came closer, closer, edging as if she were a child dancing closer to the ocean's wave, only to run in the opposite direction, chased away by the very thing it found delightful.

Closer, closer -- she could feel the reverberations of air gathering in the distance, the moisture and tension as animals sensed the oncoming danger. Did humans? Did this hunter? I would walk you back now, but the Gods might mistake my leaving the bird as ignorant hunting for sport. Her smile was softer this time, blunt around the edges, no longer pained as she crouched, tucking her dress in front of her. Dali reached out, "Do you really believe that?" she asks, quietly, a melodic murmur as she reached out and picked up a splattered feather, caressing the edges for the delightful shock of feeling it tickle her fingertips.

Her smile widens, before it dies completely, "What do you think they would do to us?" her eyes grow troubled, thinking, we don't stop Hayyel from killing for pleasure. We don't stop them at all. Would she be damned among the rest for standing by? Neutrality was not acceptable; that, she understood -- but standing up to someone so powerful, so poised, so critical to the dynamic of the village... it frightened her, truly.
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word count;; 1140
tags;; Simello <333
OOC;; Sorry for the wait ^^ love Simmy <33

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[» S i m e l l o]

Muse | `tis alright, Dali is someone I'm happy to wait for. :3

[/b][/color] This didn't really shock Simello, but it did make her hands pause. Coated with warm blood that dripped down her elbows, falling to the forest floor, she stood still for a moment. Her eyes weren't on anything in particular, but they slid onto the crouching girl's form. A soft smile stretched her lips, ever so slightly, the motion usually going undetected.

" I honestly believe it with my entire being. "

Simello, almost shyly, watched the birds corpse in-front of her. She did not see the gutted stomach, the blood that dripped, or the obvious mutations of the creatures skin and bodily organs. She saw something beautiful, blessed by Kami, but given an unfortunate fate. She stroked the side of the creature, the side that she had not begun working on, and looked back at the girl.

" I believe there are spirits, guardians.. Gods, for each element of earth. They all act together and form a higher power, something that watches over us and their children, to create the most perfect world. "

Stooping over slightly, Simello tugged over her large hat and tilted it ever so slightly to show the smaller girl the contents, which were all of the organs earlier obtained. Shifting them around, Simello had the heart stationed in the middle, all the other larger organs surrounding it, with the longer ones ( like intestines ) surrounding them. She pointed at each one slowly as she talked, watching Iadali intently.

" The heart is the center of everything. It connects one, and all. Working with the brain, you could not have one without the other, and they both act in the way that Kami supposedly does. Giving messages, receiving them, and furthering your life each step of the way. Ensuring that everything works right, and if it doesn't, it is always doing its best. The belly contains our spirit, thus we feed it, and gain nutrients from it. A long and detailed process is what the mood must go through, the icky details of which I'm sure you know. "

Simello motioned to the others, her fingertips skimming over the tops of the rubbery, wet organs.

" Each one of the animals internal organs represent something. Kami, spirit, our relationship with the earth, so on. That is why, when we take the life of an animal, we bless each and every part of the creature. It's why we pray to the God of the animals, or the deity that watch over certain ones, for the gift that we have been given. It is why we use every part of the animal as well as we can, leaving the rest not to rot, but for the creatures of the forest to consume, as a further offering to Kami. "

Standing again, moving the bowl back were it had been previously, Simello picked up the knife and went back to work. Slowly she stripped the meat from the animal, all that she could cut away seemingly coming off easily, as if it decided to fall away from her. Simello could have made a life as a butcher, her knife cleaving away meat from bone easily. The girl's earlier question, "What do you think they would do to us?", had her thinking. How to explain her beliefs, the beliefs of her family, to someone?

Letting out a soft sigh, Simello paused, her eyes on the white bones that jutted from her kill.

" Many of my people, before I came here, said that various things happened to different people when their life in this plane of existence ended. Some are trampled underneath, or eaten alive, by the animals they killed without mercy, forever - or until they are reborn, in which they are reborn as the one animal they hated most in their former life, and are sent to work their way up the ladder of animals, which supposedly follows the food chain. "

Tilting her head to the side, Simello cut away more of the flesh, placing each slice in with the other organs.

" My father believed that Kami would speak to you upon your death, and you would forever relive the moment of death in the animals you killed for sport, suffering all the way down to the moment after the animals corpse had fully decomposed, struck with fear, pain, and sickness. All until your spirit and soul were destroyed. "

Simello nodded, showing that she felt she believed in this as well, or found that belief just. There were many different things that people believed, and Simello would not lie. She knew not whether it was all lies or truth, but she believed that animals should always be thanked and blessed, given as painless a death as possible, and have their spirits honoured upon their passing.

" This is something that has always sat well with, and spoken, to me. People hunt and kill for sport and game, letting the animals suffer. That is not a proper end to a magnificent beast, no matter if they are deformed or mutated, or 'normal'. I pray to Kami that, in my next life, I am reborn as a magnificent animal, and in the time between my death and next life, I am allowed to run with the spirits of the animals I have released from their earthly bodies, that I might become one with them. "

Shivering slightly, goosebumps crossing over her skin from the thoughts, Simello brushed hair from her cheek, blood streaking a crossed her pale skin. Looking at Iadali, Simello smiled just a bit, her eyes crinkling a tad at the corners, before she went back to work.

All that was left was to break the bones and bind them, and leave an offering for the Kami.[/color][/size][/ul]

[Iadali {Paolynn} Aerandir]

Iadali wanted so much to believe in something. It was her weakness, and her greatest flaw -- it could be anything, anything at all: as long as she could fill her entire being with that purpose. As long as she could dream at night without seeing her parents' faces ripped open in a rictus shriek of self-loathing and hatred. As long as she could wait out the darkness and bind the light to her for eternity. Dali was frightened of becoming filthy.

It was so easy -- too easy, indeed -- to let go of all these inhibitions and lose herself to the darkness that had seduced her parents, their friends and cohorts. The adults had died for their sins -- Iadali would be no different. But loneliness was a festering wound, and it dug itself in the most dangerous place, forcing her thoughts to collide together at night when nightmares smiled so grimly at her through the windows. Their fingers left marks on her throat. Their eyes followed her as she walked through the village.

Could she reach out and smother the dark? Could she own it? No, no -- fear spiked her pulse for that terrible moment. Her eyes bled together in a swirl of emotion; the only harbor was the blue in the hunter's eyes. Her name, she knew it once. It faded now, gone, gone -- but so close, a chase, a game that she wanted no part of. Only give her peace, give her calm. Leave these troubling thoughts alone! She did not want to hear this anymore.

Words clashed around in her skull, reverberating, echoing -- chasing themselves back and forth. Her heart was the center of everything? Her soul, fed? Well then she was starving, emaciated; her soul was dying, dying, unable to stomach the stench of blood and piss. It was the difference between their worlds: hunters handled death, cleanly or slovenly. Iadali healed because she was so afraid of the darkness inside of herself.

Did she shine brightly? She hoped so. Her smile was tentative, reacting to the smile that flickered ever-so-briefly across the hunter's. Could she believe as this hunter did? No, no -- she needed more than just comparisons. Iadali wanted passion. The feather twirled in her delicate fingers, her eyes slipping away from their anchor toward the shifting colors; speed made them blur. She stared, because she could not bring herself to meet the older girl's eyes. This was only death -- pretty words did not make it different. It only gave a different name to the same old action.

The feather fell from her fingers, grown lifeless as she tread inward, feeling her way through suffocative thoughts that crowded her, invoked by the spirit of this Kami. This Spirit of Everything. Did life and death flow through it's lips, or was it androgynous -- was it faceless, shapeless? Was it just a concept, or was it the embodiment of love and compassion? Her thoughts twirled in circles as fast as the feather has spun between thumb and forefinger, skipping ahead, faster, faster, falling down only to scramble back up again. There was no stopping the tumbling of images that emerged before her eyes:

friends, gone, gone.

loveless, lifeless, honorless.

duty turned to ash.

a claw, terrible out of the shadows -- heavy weight, hot breath.

Tensing, Iadali tried to brush off the memory that came to haunt her -- the life that had almost escaped her fingers. What had she vowed that day? She could not remember. The Hunter's voice slipped through her guard, lifting her gaze up as she said, I pray to Kami that, in my next life, I am reborn as a magnificent animal, and in the time between my death and next life, I am allowed to run with the spirits of the animals I have released from their earthly bodies, that I might become one with them.

Sickness made her chest hurt. "Is Kami real then?" she asks the child's question, unable to stop herself before the words had fallen from her tongue; but she does not look away -- she cannot look away. so intense, this desire to grasp onto something tightly, to fill her body with an idea, a concept that no longer escaped her through ineffable, smoky visions. She wanted truth, finally. Dali wanted to put herself in a position that made sense to the world outside of her head. "You're not afraid to die?" aware, that this woman was old, in comparison to the others -- soon, the blackness would come again and claim those who had trespassed into adulthood.

Uneasy, Dali forgot to remain calm when she saw that slight smile; she felt herself fill with the hot glow that comes from being noticed, seen, at last, at last.

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word count;; 802
tags;; Simello ^^;
OOC;; skidoosh~

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