Charcoal, Ink, Pages, and Chains [o]
May 30, 2015 19:03:33 GMT -6
Post by SISUHAASTAJA.OBJ on May 30, 2015 19:03:33 GMT -6
There it was, that damn stone. Yes, the so called seal stone that no one was doing anything about… yeah this was perfectly alright let’s leave a giant rock in the middle of the road and ignore the fact that Ornelia was cut off from commerce. Perfect plan, really. He really didn’t understand who thought it was such a brilliant idea to leave it be, but then again he really didn’t care himself. Actually, it gave him at least a more distinguishable landmark as he bent over pulling in as much as he could into his lungs which burned, begged for him to breathe. Glancing furitively around for any sign that he had been followed here by a certain creep, he allowed himself lean over, placing his hands on his knees for stability. At least he had left that… man back in Ornelia… with his Mamam. He winced at this and clutched at his light coat as he stood there panting at the stone. He had left his Mamam alone with the damn creep, she was a strong grown woman, but she was his Mamam. Slowly, he began to regret running away in the first place, no matter how much it had hurt to stay there. He was a coward and he had left a dangerous man with his precious Mamam, even if she didn’t believe him, he knew that there was something wrong with the man…. The youth tugged his coat closer to his body as if there was a gust of wind, yet there was not, only the chilling implications of what he had done by leaving his Mamam. Yet, he… he thought as he an, that he saw the shadow of the man called Revenant or rather Charles if that was his real name at all.
It did not make him feel better, but there was some part of him that agreed with his actions. That there had been too much focus on him, that he was the one in danger, but still while she had ignored all his pleas, he still left when he should have stayed.
His heart slowed slightly as he took in deep breathes, grimacing as he clenched his knees tightly so that he left red marks on them. Damn it, he was a coward! He bit the inside of his cheek as he finally regained the energy to look up at the branches of the trees that surrounded the road. Furtively he glanced around, before flickering to the runic mark on the third branch he had made to help guide him to the cache he had… “made”. Everything would be alright, he would go home later and his Mamam would be alright, he knew this. Had to believe it as he shoved down guilt… because perhaps he really should have gotten his father, if he… if he would believe him that is. No, it would be alright. Even with the reassurance that strangely enough all the attention felt like it was on him and what he had concluded about the creep, it was not enough to loosen his swallowed knotted guilt. If anything, he probably… led the creep away from his Mamam? Maybe, but even that had disturbing implications. He worried the bottom of his lips as he made a dash under the third branch and paced himself until he found one singular circle carved into the ground. Yes, it was his, but instead of staring at its perfection for a circle, he ran to his right, noting the other nicks and markings on the branches as he grew closer to the cache. In truth, he wasn’t paying much attention, merely noting where the signs were as he passed the second and even the third circle, until he finally reached the fourth circle which was marked by a hollow dead tree. He panted out short breathes as he crawled onto his knees and reached inside the hollow, dragging out a crate, filled with books that he had “borrowed”. Officially his education was over, there was no more that the academic world could teach him in regards to running an estate, but these books were a source of solace.
That and they were the key to figuring out a problem that had plagued him since his mentor left him. The chains and the circles, the smoke and the mirror, these dreams of his only amplified after his mentor left him and grew in intensity when he found it a pressing matter to hide what little knowledge he possessed of runes.
It was… unnatural. Yet, here in these book were filled with runes of this time and before. He knew it had to be a fourfold circle that much he had gleaned from his paltry first and second circles as there wasn’t enough space even in a large circle to write what he had to. It was curiousity on his part that had lead him to creating these circles, his dreams of black smoking and glowing eyes gently prodding him into understanding. A fourfold weave was necessary for stability, three called upon Nimue, Tana, and Zola, and two was often used to pray to either Deo and Lumina or Acerbus and Adustum. However four circles, a fourfold weave could be used to ask for their blessing to break the chain, addressing the Mother, the Father, the God Brothers, and the Triple Goddesses at once. It felt right. Anymore and it would break the stability of four, and there would never be a more stable higher number of circles lest he ran the risk of invoking their names in a disharmonious way for their number was not even. He rummaged through the crate, choosing two books of interest as he glanced at his latest prototype, with a frown. It was alright in terms of stability, and he thought he had gotten the embellishments correct with the appropriate symbols, yet the runes themselves, the prayers were all wrong. Especially those that related to Deo and Lumina…. He quickly began to drown himself in thoughts, trying to drown out his guilt for he would not and could not return to town. Instead he climbed a low pine tree, his weight easily sustained by the branches as he climbed higher, nestled among the pine cones. With a piece of charcoal he opened up his book and flipped to the back where he kept his various prototype circles and began to draw to redraw the one on the ground.
He flipped through the first book that he had “borrowed”, particularly looking for older prayers to Deo and Lumina. Religion and him, didn’t mix, not that he didn’t disbelieve the gods, but he had no voice to give prayer to and clearly they hadn’t been answering him. Not that they really ever had, but their names held power in this world he believed, and maybe the memories of that power were stronger than silent prayers of these days. As the world and perhaps even Deo and Lumina would respond better to long held memories than these brief moments held by the current language, the modern runes. Yet first, he needed to know the old prayers, and then cross-reference the structure, the phrasing, even some of the runes themselves with the second book which was being used as a desk all while he flipped the pages. Although his eyes were still sore from his rubbing, the faintest of a smile came unto his face as for the moment he forgot his grave mistake and lost himself in the ink stained pages, into a mystery that had held his interest for years. A mystery that he perhaps should never have taken interest in, that by all right perhaps he should have felt disturbed by, yet that smoke was a calming presence in his dreams and… well he wanted that warmth here. He knew there was a way to make that happen and that though he was selfish, this calling did not scare him.
For now there was no guilt, only a steadfast focus.
It did not make him feel better, but there was some part of him that agreed with his actions. That there had been too much focus on him, that he was the one in danger, but still while she had ignored all his pleas, he still left when he should have stayed.
His heart slowed slightly as he took in deep breathes, grimacing as he clenched his knees tightly so that he left red marks on them. Damn it, he was a coward! He bit the inside of his cheek as he finally regained the energy to look up at the branches of the trees that surrounded the road. Furtively he glanced around, before flickering to the runic mark on the third branch he had made to help guide him to the cache he had… “made”. Everything would be alright, he would go home later and his Mamam would be alright, he knew this. Had to believe it as he shoved down guilt… because perhaps he really should have gotten his father, if he… if he would believe him that is. No, it would be alright. Even with the reassurance that strangely enough all the attention felt like it was on him and what he had concluded about the creep, it was not enough to loosen his swallowed knotted guilt. If anything, he probably… led the creep away from his Mamam? Maybe, but even that had disturbing implications. He worried the bottom of his lips as he made a dash under the third branch and paced himself until he found one singular circle carved into the ground. Yes, it was his, but instead of staring at its perfection for a circle, he ran to his right, noting the other nicks and markings on the branches as he grew closer to the cache. In truth, he wasn’t paying much attention, merely noting where the signs were as he passed the second and even the third circle, until he finally reached the fourth circle which was marked by a hollow dead tree. He panted out short breathes as he crawled onto his knees and reached inside the hollow, dragging out a crate, filled with books that he had “borrowed”. Officially his education was over, there was no more that the academic world could teach him in regards to running an estate, but these books were a source of solace.
That and they were the key to figuring out a problem that had plagued him since his mentor left him. The chains and the circles, the smoke and the mirror, these dreams of his only amplified after his mentor left him and grew in intensity when he found it a pressing matter to hide what little knowledge he possessed of runes.
It was… unnatural. Yet, here in these book were filled with runes of this time and before. He knew it had to be a fourfold circle that much he had gleaned from his paltry first and second circles as there wasn’t enough space even in a large circle to write what he had to. It was curiousity on his part that had lead him to creating these circles, his dreams of black smoking and glowing eyes gently prodding him into understanding. A fourfold weave was necessary for stability, three called upon Nimue, Tana, and Zola, and two was often used to pray to either Deo and Lumina or Acerbus and Adustum. However four circles, a fourfold weave could be used to ask for their blessing to break the chain, addressing the Mother, the Father, the God Brothers, and the Triple Goddesses at once. It felt right. Anymore and it would break the stability of four, and there would never be a more stable higher number of circles lest he ran the risk of invoking their names in a disharmonious way for their number was not even. He rummaged through the crate, choosing two books of interest as he glanced at his latest prototype, with a frown. It was alright in terms of stability, and he thought he had gotten the embellishments correct with the appropriate symbols, yet the runes themselves, the prayers were all wrong. Especially those that related to Deo and Lumina…. He quickly began to drown himself in thoughts, trying to drown out his guilt for he would not and could not return to town. Instead he climbed a low pine tree, his weight easily sustained by the branches as he climbed higher, nestled among the pine cones. With a piece of charcoal he opened up his book and flipped to the back where he kept his various prototype circles and began to draw to redraw the one on the ground.
He flipped through the first book that he had “borrowed”, particularly looking for older prayers to Deo and Lumina. Religion and him, didn’t mix, not that he didn’t disbelieve the gods, but he had no voice to give prayer to and clearly they hadn’t been answering him. Not that they really ever had, but their names held power in this world he believed, and maybe the memories of that power were stronger than silent prayers of these days. As the world and perhaps even Deo and Lumina would respond better to long held memories than these brief moments held by the current language, the modern runes. Yet first, he needed to know the old prayers, and then cross-reference the structure, the phrasing, even some of the runes themselves with the second book which was being used as a desk all while he flipped the pages. Although his eyes were still sore from his rubbing, the faintest of a smile came unto his face as for the moment he forgot his grave mistake and lost himself in the ink stained pages, into a mystery that had held his interest for years. A mystery that he perhaps should never have taken interest in, that by all right perhaps he should have felt disturbed by, yet that smoke was a calming presence in his dreams and… well he wanted that warmth here. He knew there was a way to make that happen and that though he was selfish, this calling did not scare him.
For now there was no guilt, only a steadfast focus.
★ SINCERELY OPEN TO EVERYONE
