The Silent Path {November 3011} {Adanedhel}
Jan 24, 2019 21:53:45 GMT -5
Post by ELIRA on Jan 24, 2019 21:53:45 GMT -5
A low hum crossed her lips, as Elira stooped down beside the dark water of the forest river, her eyes following the rolling pools and eddies of the currents in the stream, as glass vials were laid at her side. It was the first sound she had made in the two hours since she had departed the caverns. The water before her an iridescent purple, she could not see below the surface or ascertain the depth at all.
Uncorking each vial, the light “pop” was stifled in the wood where the trees hung low and heavy even in late autumn. The sun was not so bright above, and the days were shrouded in mists and often cold rain. She had asked Meludir to bring her here the day before, but he had refused, stating the danger and distance from the Elvenking’s halls. Long miles through the forest away from the safety of the realm guards. Over a year had passed since she had taken the river path to this place in the forest where the intoxicating sweet perfume lifted off the water and made her feel dreams within, like the spring nearly two years past, when she had faulted in touching. And oh, she had dreamed. She would not have even hummed, if it were not for the perfume currently working to dull her senses. Poisoned water, she had since learned. Secretions upstream in the mountains from the spiders which turned the water to blissful poison.
The damp would give way to the cold of night, and the earth was frosty beneath her toes, crystals of ice sparkled as diamonds, grating against pale skin, and melting in the spaces her feet would step, but barefoot Elira could move surreptitiously silent. When one is called a ghost for many years, they can choose to become one, and so she had done. Now her toes made imprint in the soft moss aside the stream, leaving the space beneath her feet lost to the crystalline sparkles, and she worked herself out onto a sturdy rock near the edge where she could crouch and not fear her footing
Gone was the hum of bees as they had settled to dormancy before winter, but only left was the sting of wasps, which came as the sharp of cold against skin. Cold which Elira was numbed to; invigorated by. A thousand years in the elements did not cause her to give way to them easily and where one may have felt cold, Elira felt only brisk pleasure. She tasted and experienced the seasons and one did not trouble her more than another, she only missed the murmuring of the moths and insects in the forest; but she would be glad when spring came and brought the young animals.
The trees overhead were now bare, though twisted branches and dead vines still blocked much of daylight from view, and Elira had slipped through the shadows as if she were made of them. Her bells had been left to adorn the desk in her chamber, and take her in secret away from the spiders. Elira did not fear spiders. They had been her companions through the years. Few beasts lived upon the tower of Nalaikh but the spiders who would hide in the corners and keep her company. These were greater, but she knew the ways of these creatures, and her mind, nor Meludir, could have persuaded her otherwise.
Adanedhel… well, what he did not know would not harm him. Elira knew better than to tell him her prerogative. He could not miss her while at his sword training, and she would return to her lover before the end of day. He would be none the wiser. If he asked after the purple vials, she would tell him where they had been collected. There was no lie she would tell him; but merely information not given over. To keep things to oneself was not the same as to lie.
Slowly, carefully, Elira dipped the first vial into the poison river, watching as the dark water pooled at the brim and began to fill the clear glass, a smile on the corner of her mouth as then she raised it up and exhaled between her teeth at her reflection in the crystal vial. Yet not only hers… the form of another standing behind her reflected in the glass. An instant her expression took on startle; surprise; but she knew the form reflected against amethyst waters and she let the shock that she had been crept upon slip from her features, and she did not turn. “You join me,” she said lightly, letting the words roll off her lips in her thick accent. Elira leaned to the side and rifled through the brown leaves for the cork which had gone missing, as if she cared not. As if it did not surprise her that he had tracked her here. Elira was too proud to admit defeat.
Uncorking each vial, the light “pop” was stifled in the wood where the trees hung low and heavy even in late autumn. The sun was not so bright above, and the days were shrouded in mists and often cold rain. She had asked Meludir to bring her here the day before, but he had refused, stating the danger and distance from the Elvenking’s halls. Long miles through the forest away from the safety of the realm guards. Over a year had passed since she had taken the river path to this place in the forest where the intoxicating sweet perfume lifted off the water and made her feel dreams within, like the spring nearly two years past, when she had faulted in touching. And oh, she had dreamed. She would not have even hummed, if it were not for the perfume currently working to dull her senses. Poisoned water, she had since learned. Secretions upstream in the mountains from the spiders which turned the water to blissful poison.
The damp would give way to the cold of night, and the earth was frosty beneath her toes, crystals of ice sparkled as diamonds, grating against pale skin, and melting in the spaces her feet would step, but barefoot Elira could move surreptitiously silent. When one is called a ghost for many years, they can choose to become one, and so she had done. Now her toes made imprint in the soft moss aside the stream, leaving the space beneath her feet lost to the crystalline sparkles, and she worked herself out onto a sturdy rock near the edge where she could crouch and not fear her footing
Gone was the hum of bees as they had settled to dormancy before winter, but only left was the sting of wasps, which came as the sharp of cold against skin. Cold which Elira was numbed to; invigorated by. A thousand years in the elements did not cause her to give way to them easily and where one may have felt cold, Elira felt only brisk pleasure. She tasted and experienced the seasons and one did not trouble her more than another, she only missed the murmuring of the moths and insects in the forest; but she would be glad when spring came and brought the young animals.
The trees overhead were now bare, though twisted branches and dead vines still blocked much of daylight from view, and Elira had slipped through the shadows as if she were made of them. Her bells had been left to adorn the desk in her chamber, and take her in secret away from the spiders. Elira did not fear spiders. They had been her companions through the years. Few beasts lived upon the tower of Nalaikh but the spiders who would hide in the corners and keep her company. These were greater, but she knew the ways of these creatures, and her mind, nor Meludir, could have persuaded her otherwise.
Adanedhel… well, what he did not know would not harm him. Elira knew better than to tell him her prerogative. He could not miss her while at his sword training, and she would return to her lover before the end of day. He would be none the wiser. If he asked after the purple vials, she would tell him where they had been collected. There was no lie she would tell him; but merely information not given over. To keep things to oneself was not the same as to lie.
Slowly, carefully, Elira dipped the first vial into the poison river, watching as the dark water pooled at the brim and began to fill the clear glass, a smile on the corner of her mouth as then she raised it up and exhaled between her teeth at her reflection in the crystal vial. Yet not only hers… the form of another standing behind her reflected in the glass. An instant her expression took on startle; surprise; but she knew the form reflected against amethyst waters and she let the shock that she had been crept upon slip from her features, and she did not turn. “You join me,” she said lightly, letting the words roll off her lips in her thick accent. Elira leaned to the side and rifled through the brown leaves for the cork which had gone missing, as if she cared not. As if it did not surprise her that he had tracked her here. Elira was too proud to admit defeat.