Dancer Between

[Misty]

But that is not how it went.


Akorira found her aid in Tambina, one who suffered a bond broken yet did not perish. Too few kin do not succumb to death, but her story is for another tale. The spirit begged her aid, and she could not help but grant it. With the help of her companion, and a new friend, a human friend, they sought Ryldomph.

The human was an odd creature from the beginning, but endearing. She served a god of death, but was cheery and nice. She giggled through her prayers to her god, and came away ecstatic and joyful. Her duty, she explained, was to put to rest the restless dead, so of course she would help.

The three set out to find Ryldomph, Tambina wearing Akorira’s ring. Though theatrics were planned to scare the halfbreed, they were not needed. When asked why, he simply answered, “The only question you need is will you live to tell it.”

Yet his death was not enough, the pair were not free. Within the valley of goblins lay a cave, and to the cave was she drawn. Two kin, one human, magic and blades and bow felled them all. Without the human, the kin would have failed, becoming another pair of restless spirits.

Reunited over the spot where Krenrar died to his friend’s hand, the spirits took their bonding rings and left for Arvandor.

Without the human, the kin would have failed.

Once again, Mother, you are wrong.

[Misty]

I wonder how they fare, my friends in the war
‘gainst dhearow and goblin, demon and orc?

Many more had they of sneaky disposition,
that I thought it fair to leave my position.

Interloper was I when I arrived,
Seemed only fair to continue the ride.

The winds blew south, breezy and far
to a nice small town called Eveningstar.

Quaint little home, flowered and fair,
New life begins for the young elven pair.

Yet surprises fall with a clamor and din,
Neighbors we have are the very same hin.

So again I wonder if they prevail,
if they survive or if they fail?

Need me they do not, this I know,
but maybe it won’t hurt to one day show?

See for myself the people I knew,
and if that one tree is actually blue.

[Mizbiz]

*rolls a red carpet out under the blue tree*

[wvincenti]

*rolls a red carpet out under the blue tree*

Someone please post screenshots before the frequent rains wash the dye away. Inquiring minds want to know what it looks like.

-Bill

[Misty]

Tired and tense, we three walk on the goblin bodies for we cannot see the stone floor. Beleg in his pale Maille shirt, Lady Nicha in her armor, her calculating eyes waiting for another attack. Coated in spells, and again in goblin blood the bright lights stop us.

“Where’s Laurelin?” she asks. I answer behind her. Her hand tightens on her swordhilt, watching the ghostly light coalesce into two elven forms. “I think you found them,” she speaks softly, relaxing a little.

As one, Beleg and I take off their rings, offering them in the palm of our hands. Akorira took from Beleg’s hand, giving the ring to her love. Krenrar did the same from my hand. Lady Nicha wordlessly watches the strange dance.

“Sehanine guide you both safely home,” Beleg puts his arm around my shoulder as he spoke. “Together.” I try to speak, but no words come from the turmoil within. Only hot water escaping my eyes.

“You have given our love back. It will live on,” Akorira’s sweet voice floats to us. Again I open my mouth, and again no sound comes out. So I close it, wishing for the tears to stop. She turns to face me, her voice getting softer as both she and her love get paler, “In time your pain will heal, but take comfort in the fact you have healed ours.” They dissipate.

I stand numb to all but a warmth from my pocket. I know without checking it is my Tear, the one Twilight touched and gave to me. Maybe my tears over the broken and lost can be turned to something happy. Someday. He holds me tight, his warm lips to my cheek, bringing me to the present. The scrawny goblin underfoot hurts my ankle. “I want to go home.”

We three wordlessly make our way back to Evenstar. Once there, we say our goodbyes, and invite Lady Nicha to tea when times are calm. He worries for me. Which home did I mean?

We rest, though we suffer fitful dreams together instead of our usual happy ones. They are more telling than any words we can speak, our dreams. I leave the bed early, no need to worry him further.

I make scones, my thoughts churning like cream, though no butter forms. Who do I blame? Who’s fault is it? Mine? His? The Seldarine? If I could go back, would I? If I could have anything I want, what would it be? Who’s fault is it? Was our bond not strong enough? Was it too new? Would it always have been this easy? Is he dead? Does he wish to be? What did I do wrong? Why did it break? How? Who do I blame? Would I go back? What did I do wrong? If I could change the past, would I? Would I have bonded, knowing this was the answer? Who do I blame? Why?

I put the finished scones on the tray, two cups and a pot of tea. My green skirts are just so, this Chameleon skin is not so bad. Though I think I took too long getting ready, for he meets me at the foot of the stairs, stopping to just look at me holding the tray. So much for the breakfast in bed idea. Bless him, he deserves so much better than I.

“The moon is high,” I smile, “Care for a snack outside, or shall we stand here forever?”

“I was thinking of heading back upstairs, but that dress by moonlight would be lovely as well.” He takes the tray from me, his green eyes soft with concern, “How are you feeling dearest?”

I meet his gaze, my words light, “I am happy. Why do you ask?” We both know that on the surface, that is true. But the great scar on my soul is still fresh.

“The bonded kin. That tore at you, I know,” he kisses my forehead. “Tell me when you feel up to it?” he asks, turning to put the tray down by the fire.

My voice stops him, though it is naught but a whisper, “It's hard, sometimes. I don't know what do about the guilt is all. I’ve never really felt it before. All my promises broke.”

“Twasn't your choice,” he softly reminds me, nodding to the fireplace.

I shake my head, “No. No it wasn’t.” He sets the tray down, turning again to pull me towards the overstuffed cushions. I hold to his hands after we both sit, “I helped her. I promised to, because it was right. Just because mine broke, doesn't mean I can't help others. But still,” my voice falters. He kisses both my hands, then patiently looks to my eyes. “I had promised to die, and then didn't. I backed out of it. At the time because I was angry. Because it wasn't fair.” I still want to scream He did not die, why should I?!

“He left the bond for,” he sighs, casting for words he cannot find. “Whatever reason he had, and chose to live.”

“He did what we both expected him to,” I try not to plead. He knows this. “It was our agreement. A part of me thinks I should blame the Seldarine, but I cannot.”

“Will you forgive me for wanting to see you smile yet?” he asks, a smile barely playing at the corners of his lips. So swiftly he steals my words. “I,” his ears turn a little pink in the firelight, “did feel a bit selfish at times.”

“Maybe you were, but we both needed you to be,” I try to smile, my ears turning red. “I love you Beleg, I do. I cannot thank you enough for wanting to see me smile again.”

“That is all I need to hear.”

The words tumble as he touches my cheek, “I’m sorry I’m broken. I cannot make the same promises again.”

“I've enough promises from you when you look at me like that, Tambina. I love you dear, pranks and all.” Tea and scones forgotten, we go outside and dance in the rain. My first dance since the bond went silent, then broke. Praise to Erevan, Sehanine and Aerdrie, dancing until we could no more.

[Misty]

Lift your voice loud and clear,
Let praises ring far and near,
Love we sing to His fine ear,
Father of us all.

Blood He shed unto the land,
Bound with Tears upon the sand,
Begetting Us with careful hand,
Father of us all.

Protector, Defender, Teacher fair,
Praise we give for His care,
Proudly do we sing this prayer,
Father of us all.

Songs we lift to His praise,
Sweetest mead to Him we raise,
Seldarine shine ever and always,
Father of us all.

[wvincenti]

Mmmm ... mead.



Sounds like I missed a good weekend.

-Bill

[Misty]

I know what crazy is.

Crazy is what the Lazy call us,
Too Lazy to understand the reasons
behind the different actions
and reactions from the norm.

Their norm, not mine.

Indifferent to the effort
of understanding.

Everything has a reason,
the taunts and the teasin’
are your fault as much as mine.

[PensivesWetness]

/me blinks Why does that poem seem to sing... to me? To us all?

[Misty]

...perhaps you should return..


Go away.



Then stop trying to help if it's only going to ruin your mood.


Stop trying.



I'm sorry that we can't all be carefree, that we have responsibilities and roles to fulfill.


I am not in reverie, but I may as well be. Ninety-six then, One hundred forty-seven now. The same words. The same disagreement. The same question unanswered: Why does one negate the other?

I once feared responsibility, for I thought I would rather be dead than to lose my joy. But it was a silly fear, for responsibility found me, and still I danced. Why is it so hard for others? Why do they resist and resent it so?


Why, I ask the Chameleon, is this so?






He drank the wine. He still loves me.






There is but one answer to this all. Again, I look to the past, but I finish this dance MY way.

[Misty]

Another discussion, or disagreement if you will. Again the differences between the highborn like him and lowborn as myself glaringly apparent.

“There are simply certain aspects of what I mean that you are not going to understand, nor could I expect you to,” he tells me. I do not balk at what so many would see as arrogant condescension, for I feel the same of him. I concede the point, for I know as little of the life of high civilization of Evermeet as he does of the raw joy in the hunt. His sort may not have forgotten the forests, but life those cities is still quite removed. While buildings may be formed from living trees, they are still created. The most beautiful example of their kind, yet contrived. Artificial. Temporary. Joining in the revels led by the priest of my patron god does not aid in understanding. Wine and dancing in a sheltered grove is different than wine and dancing when it could be ruined by a giant’s fist in a moment. Or the hunt. The raw power of killing one’s dinner, its still warm blood pouring over your hands as you give thanks to Rillifane.

It is not wrong, for my love hails from the very same place. Only different, and I do not want to fight. We are too different to understand each other. Too different to even talk to the other without inciting frustrated anger. Yet, somehow, a shadow of understanding did we share.

In not speaking carefully to him, he thought my voice joined the dozen others criticizing his every move. This was not true, though he made clear he did not really care. I must keep these as lessons for myself then, for now I am leading and subject to the same criticisms. In him speaking overcareful to me, he seemed insincere, though that was not the case either. I wished he would speak plainly to me, and he? He said words I did not know I needed.

“I will not abandon you.”

[Misty]

Dance and laugh, sing and play,
Give unto the frolicsome fey,
At least a year and a day,
When ‘tis for wine we pray.

Out we go in dark of night,
The sweetest milk ours by right,
Tentflaps and laces tied too tight,
All in name of the Jester’s delight.

“Knavery” and more words unkind,
When to their chests they may find,
Gems and jewels no longer confined,
But mandrake, thistle and lemon rind.

“All in fun,” do we all say,
Tossing wealth to the jester fey,
Gilding oft the altar’s array,
before we bury it another day.

The poor farmer with daughters nine,
struggling to have enough to dine,
may see one day in fields a shine,
treasure enough for food and wine.

So lift your voice in spritely prayer,
Dip your fingers, if you dare,
into mischievous fun unfair,
First painted cheeks and tangled hair.

[Misty]

Dark of hair, eyes soft and kind
He beckons me from friends and wine
To speak of favors and keys of lime,
Hidden in the ‘Dark.

Bright of smile, his hands extend,
The dance of lovers we pretend,
Twirl away from friends' new mend,
To speak of this lark.

Dwarf we need but cannot find,
Diplomat needed in the mine,
He advises with eyes so kind,
‘Be ready to embark.’

Return to others with smiles wide,
Pretending still at blushing bride,
Laughing now where once I cried,
In this lovely park.

Gird us now in weapons and leather,
Time to leave the lovely heather,
Find our allies and dive together,
Deep into the ‘Dark.

[Brimsar the Wanderer]

Wonderful stuff Misty.

Don't. Stop. EVER!

[Mizbiz]

VERY nice.