| Subject: .first breath of sight. |
Author:
Astra
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Date Posted: 00:05:31 06/01/03 Sun
In reply to:
Enchancee
's message, "() I cant get by this time ()" on 23:24:26 05/31/03 Sat
The day was bleak, weary, and jaded - lacerated like the debris of a ship masticated and spat from the maws of a turbulent maelstrom, sirens bleaching their cries at the weaker of the crew. It was broken, as was Khastin’s reign, and it bled anguish profusely, and this anguish steeped the feral landscape. Permeating the atmosphere, and becoming etched in Father Time’s infinite memory. Achromatic shades traversed across the sky, besmirching it as they perambulated. The sun was circumscribed to a bank of dank, ominous nimbi that contaminated the ochre light the sun emanated. The light that split the sky, falling in an ungainly cascade, heralded the spring deluge that Abyss eagerly anticipated. The inclement air, somewhat expectant and alive with pulsating adrenaline, curdled and promised nothing but barbed, mordant truths; for there is no benevolence in truth, only candid honesty after all is said and done. The lupine outside stood with dreary ambitions, already heavily laden with rain, regrouped and watched as beneath the hollow dirt bastion the pups hid protectively, away from the abysmal welkin asunder and livid bolts of rain.
There was a pulp of seething hauteur buried beneath this land. A den, a cave beneath the eye of watchful predators, laying the metaphorical key to unlock her own past; to learn of a father she never knew. Astra had sensed it from the moment the barren wasteland impinged upon her field of vibrations. The vault of sullied gray sky, the landscape: marred by the incessant maiming of asperous lupines, marching about and taking their own egotistical watch, and the festering, fermenting stench that clung to this place like a parasite; draining it of mirth and liberation. This was a condemned world, one ruled by sin and baptized in blood. Before her eyes even graced the world she liked it – or perhaps like was too strong a word for a world she had never seen. But it was something instinctive, internal, and only she felt by parting those minuscule eyelids would she be satisfying in the lands which prevented any merriment.
She will be vice, personified - and gifted (cursed?) with a heart that beats and a mind of lightning...and a distinct lack of tolerance for imperfection, folly, and mistake.
The pup emerged from the depths of her matriarch’s brilliantly bland pelt, eyes trained on nothing but the sultry color of the penumbra. Her passion was unparalleled, and she itched to part her unadulterated orbs and greet her first true breath with the sights of her future lands. Of course, she was not aware the footsteps she would have to follow in coming decades; but perhaps an inner instinct, a strength from a father she never knew persuaded her to open her eyes prematurely, part from the warmth of her mother and the safety of her touch to the lands beyond.
And so with weary ambition she parts her feeble eyelids to look up at the one which breathed the elixir into her miniscule frame. Her eyes were strikingly unique, and undeniably an original creation between Khastin and Enchancee. The eyes themselves shone in two different colors; one of a baffling gray, green, and stygian, and the other of an electric blue. The one sparked gray eye was of that baffling protean gray which is never twice the same; which runes through many shades and colorings like intershot silk in sunshine; which is gray, dark and light, and greenish gray, and sometimes of the clear azure of the deep sea. The other eye was eccentrically blue, not even a reflection of the heavens but a symbol of their mediocrity, for her blue eye shone with the brilliance that the sky never could. They were eyes that masked the soul with a thousand guises, and that sometimes opened, at rare moments, and allowed it to rush up as though it were about to fare forth nakedly into the world on some wonderful adventure--eyes that could brood with the hopeless somberness of leaden skies; that could snap and crackle points of fire like those which sparkle from a whirling sword; that could grow chill as an artic landscape, and yet again, that could warm and soften and be all a-dance with love-lights, intense but still feminine, and dominate overpoweringly till they downcast, and leave the subjects in relief and sacrifice.
It is an undeniably eerie combination...one who had seen the madness in her eyes and felt the blatant hostility in her stare might even go so far as to call her frightening. Those who had felt rather than seen the tiny pup abandon the pools of moonlight and leap forward would call her terrifying….however, those witnessing her feebly positioned upon the hearth could see her as nothing more than a noble infant, brazenly determined but still minding of the loving tyrant above her.
She did not know many things – not that her nescience perturbed her – so it simply came down to her innate intuition, which told her to persevere and allow her power to burgeon into raw magnificence.
.A S T R A.
.the untouched chasm.
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