Orchid Espere (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
petal_storm) wrote2017-02-21 11:33 pm
petal_storm) wrote2017-02-21 11:33 pm
Entry tags:
It's been many, many years.
Who: Dahlia and History
When:Almost the beginning.
What: Every world has their myths. Some are true.
In beginning there was no such thing as darkness.The Sun and the Moon were the the same size and siblings, walking across their paths in the sky. There was Gold time and Silver Time, no night, no day. And the people were The People. Some were dark to resist the strengths of Gold, some were light to shine in Silver time...but they were all the People.
The parents of Sun and Moon were Emptiness the Great Explosion, not precisely family oriented, they cast matter across the vast space to create the seeds of life. To watch it grow. Not precisely hands on, no, but present enough to give their children duties. Sun and Moon were to safeguard the People, to walk their paths to keep the tides in check and ensure the mudball of a planet they circled could hold that precious thing, life.
Even simply plans though...tended to go astray. They grew to know their people, talking with them, taking a moment here and there to pause, to step upon the world itself and be given names, temples, songs...
...adulation and friendship were quite the seductive things. It brought one, Moon, to the attention of Old Man Fire Mountain. He was not the child of Emptiness and the Great Explosion, some say he'd...simply always been there, boiling away under the ground, sleeping until the People came. And Old Man Fire Fire Mountain was...a lonely thing. People of all color gave him offerings of course but who wanted to befriend a great volcano?
Liquid, terrible fire was frightening after all, and offerings from fear were...not precisely satisfying. No, so one day he came to a temple and waited, patient and bubbling, until he could have a word with Moon. A single word and a smile from her were all it took to create an obsession.
Lights, after all, always had the ability to inspire such. It was decades before they'd see each other again and when they did, well, it was Moon stepping in to help evacuate a city shaking apart due to eruptions. He'd timed it carefully, watching and waiting until her brother was far across the world on his path, mid-arch of Moon...
...and when the fires cleared and the land still there was nothing but spreading, deep darkness over the land. Moon was not walking her path and in absence of the Silver light was...nothing.
Nothing at all.
Sun was furious and worried sick enough that the Golden hours were red and purple tinged, and everywhere, EVERYWHERE people asked, where was Moon?
Where was their Moon to leave them alone in such a deep darkness half of the time?
The answer being she was underground. Deep in caverns so echoing and empty her every breath stirred water from roof to drip and pattern down in a sad parody of rain. she'd never been so...contained. This deep cavern was large enough to whisper like lost souls and yet so very, very small as compared to the sky. Was it any wonder there were soon stories? Rumors of silver light flickering from between stones as she wandered tunnels deep and broad, trying to find a way out. Any way out?
Her brother couldn't help, taking light away from the world entire so he could search would doom the People. He could not...
...and so the Quests were born. The Quest to end the Darkness, whispered among the People, ticking and teasing with the winds until everyone knew about them. Find the Moon, end the darkness...
...Old Man Fire Mountain was not pleased to hear someone would come seeking his prize, and he built up the land, made it seethe and boil, churned up with great spars f melted glass and weaving heat. Of course it gave rise to heroes, how could it not?
It wasn't the bravest or the strongest that found her, no, but a small, clever young man who traced glimpses of silver light across the years and mapped caves to help her escape. Small and clever and he eeled between cracks she could not to keep her company as they found other routes.
How could she not fall in love?
And when they escaped, oh when they escaped...how angry Old Man Fire Mountain was.
Very angry indeed, with spews of fire and raining rock as he reached and tried to catch them both. She put herself between the volcano's ire and the young man of the People and how the rock burned. It tore pieces from her, more felt than seen. Power and prestige and the ability to walk between worlds all raining past her with each blow.
When she scraped to the edges of her path she was small, so small, torn away to bits and pieces and scattered across the darkness. Her brother found her and carried her across teh sky for years, silver and gold twinned as she worked to recover any semblance of strength...and gods how the People took it poorly. Their Moon. Their Silver, torn and harmed...hundred died but they swarmed the home of Old Man Fire Mountain and quenched him in the deepest pools, the darkest waters.
And the Darkness...ah the pieces of her that had been torn came to rest in that deep blackness, shining and shimmering since light, even halved, was not extinguished. And thus the stars. The stars were mere Moon, spread further than she had been, when she could walk her own paths again her light was lessened, she could not light the whole sky. Not by far...
...but the People didn't care. She was back, and stars could be beautiful, her gallery of shining triumph. Her escape, written for all to read. And the clever man, the small man of the People, clawed his way up mountains until he could walk beside her, smiling, as he'd done in the caves. The People understood when sometimes she turned her face away, letting a few days of darkness with stars fall on the land as she danced and smiled with her man.
They had children, the Moon and her man. Carved of darkness with human skins to show the world. Sparkling, like distant bits of their mother, and quite an annoyance to their uncle. There was any number of days where he had to beg for rain clouds as the children flocked around him to beg stories and to pull on his hair...
...and that was Dahlia's world. For so many years. The celestial paths and watching the People. She...had a different name then, a name of static and singing, meaning 'Little Spark'. All her siblings were named that, with various shifts in the static. They were all distinct, but all the same.
But she...liked asking why.
More than most she...traced how the paths worked. She drifted down to live among the People and analyze...everything. The People were simple, their world was simple, very tied to the force of creation. Magic was a symptom of that, weaving among everything, but there was also some rules the world could not break...she liked learning those rules.
And when she ran out of rules to learn about their world, their family...her mother took her aside, smiling, and wished her well...before shoving her off teh paths and across a hole her uncle had opened. There was...so much to learn in the wider realms of creation.
So very much.
She...learned not to miss them. Not to be angry when there were other stories about the Sun and the Moon. Not to be TRULY angry when people said Sun and Moon were lovers themselves. In a sense she learned to be open minded.
Very open minded, and...she kept learning and growing, between world. She adopted use names since her own was something most people could not say, and the one she kept longest was Dahlia. She liked the way the flowers looked yes. Between worlds, somehow, those flowers always looked the same.
She liked...the permanence.
Yes. Something solid to claim between worlds.
When:Almost the beginning.
What: Every world has their myths. Some are true.
In beginning there was no such thing as darkness.The Sun and the Moon were the the same size and siblings, walking across their paths in the sky. There was Gold time and Silver Time, no night, no day. And the people were The People. Some were dark to resist the strengths of Gold, some were light to shine in Silver time...but they were all the People.
The parents of Sun and Moon were Emptiness the Great Explosion, not precisely family oriented, they cast matter across the vast space to create the seeds of life. To watch it grow. Not precisely hands on, no, but present enough to give their children duties. Sun and Moon were to safeguard the People, to walk their paths to keep the tides in check and ensure the mudball of a planet they circled could hold that precious thing, life.
Even simply plans though...tended to go astray. They grew to know their people, talking with them, taking a moment here and there to pause, to step upon the world itself and be given names, temples, songs...
...adulation and friendship were quite the seductive things. It brought one, Moon, to the attention of Old Man Fire Mountain. He was not the child of Emptiness and the Great Explosion, some say he'd...simply always been there, boiling away under the ground, sleeping until the People came. And Old Man Fire Fire Mountain was...a lonely thing. People of all color gave him offerings of course but who wanted to befriend a great volcano?
Liquid, terrible fire was frightening after all, and offerings from fear were...not precisely satisfying. No, so one day he came to a temple and waited, patient and bubbling, until he could have a word with Moon. A single word and a smile from her were all it took to create an obsession.
Lights, after all, always had the ability to inspire such. It was decades before they'd see each other again and when they did, well, it was Moon stepping in to help evacuate a city shaking apart due to eruptions. He'd timed it carefully, watching and waiting until her brother was far across the world on his path, mid-arch of Moon...
...and when the fires cleared and the land still there was nothing but spreading, deep darkness over the land. Moon was not walking her path and in absence of the Silver light was...nothing.
Nothing at all.
Sun was furious and worried sick enough that the Golden hours were red and purple tinged, and everywhere, EVERYWHERE people asked, where was Moon?
Where was their Moon to leave them alone in such a deep darkness half of the time?
The answer being she was underground. Deep in caverns so echoing and empty her every breath stirred water from roof to drip and pattern down in a sad parody of rain. she'd never been so...contained. This deep cavern was large enough to whisper like lost souls and yet so very, very small as compared to the sky. Was it any wonder there were soon stories? Rumors of silver light flickering from between stones as she wandered tunnels deep and broad, trying to find a way out. Any way out?
Her brother couldn't help, taking light away from the world entire so he could search would doom the People. He could not...
...and so the Quests were born. The Quest to end the Darkness, whispered among the People, ticking and teasing with the winds until everyone knew about them. Find the Moon, end the darkness...
...Old Man Fire Mountain was not pleased to hear someone would come seeking his prize, and he built up the land, made it seethe and boil, churned up with great spars f melted glass and weaving heat. Of course it gave rise to heroes, how could it not?
It wasn't the bravest or the strongest that found her, no, but a small, clever young man who traced glimpses of silver light across the years and mapped caves to help her escape. Small and clever and he eeled between cracks she could not to keep her company as they found other routes.
How could she not fall in love?
And when they escaped, oh when they escaped...how angry Old Man Fire Mountain was.
Very angry indeed, with spews of fire and raining rock as he reached and tried to catch them both. She put herself between the volcano's ire and the young man of the People and how the rock burned. It tore pieces from her, more felt than seen. Power and prestige and the ability to walk between worlds all raining past her with each blow.
When she scraped to the edges of her path she was small, so small, torn away to bits and pieces and scattered across the darkness. Her brother found her and carried her across teh sky for years, silver and gold twinned as she worked to recover any semblance of strength...and gods how the People took it poorly. Their Moon. Their Silver, torn and harmed...hundred died but they swarmed the home of Old Man Fire Mountain and quenched him in the deepest pools, the darkest waters.
And the Darkness...ah the pieces of her that had been torn came to rest in that deep blackness, shining and shimmering since light, even halved, was not extinguished. And thus the stars. The stars were mere Moon, spread further than she had been, when she could walk her own paths again her light was lessened, she could not light the whole sky. Not by far...
...but the People didn't care. She was back, and stars could be beautiful, her gallery of shining triumph. Her escape, written for all to read. And the clever man, the small man of the People, clawed his way up mountains until he could walk beside her, smiling, as he'd done in the caves. The People understood when sometimes she turned her face away, letting a few days of darkness with stars fall on the land as she danced and smiled with her man.
They had children, the Moon and her man. Carved of darkness with human skins to show the world. Sparkling, like distant bits of their mother, and quite an annoyance to their uncle. There was any number of days where he had to beg for rain clouds as the children flocked around him to beg stories and to pull on his hair...
...and that was Dahlia's world. For so many years. The celestial paths and watching the People. She...had a different name then, a name of static and singing, meaning 'Little Spark'. All her siblings were named that, with various shifts in the static. They were all distinct, but all the same.
But she...liked asking why.
More than most she...traced how the paths worked. She drifted down to live among the People and analyze...everything. The People were simple, their world was simple, very tied to the force of creation. Magic was a symptom of that, weaving among everything, but there was also some rules the world could not break...she liked learning those rules.
And when she ran out of rules to learn about their world, their family...her mother took her aside, smiling, and wished her well...before shoving her off teh paths and across a hole her uncle had opened. There was...so much to learn in the wider realms of creation.
So very much.
She...learned not to miss them. Not to be angry when there were other stories about the Sun and the Moon. Not to be TRULY angry when people said Sun and Moon were lovers themselves. In a sense she learned to be open minded.
Very open minded, and...she kept learning and growing, between world. She adopted use names since her own was something most people could not say, and the one she kept longest was Dahlia. She liked the way the flowers looked yes. Between worlds, somehow, those flowers always looked the same.
She liked...the permanence.
Yes. Something solid to claim between worlds.