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+--- Thread: Cricket Creek Bog an afterglow, abandoned no longer (/showthread.php?tid=65726)
an afterglow, abandoned no longer - A'yan - April 18, 2025
A'yan pawed at waters still fresh, mesmerized. Water - clear. Clear. Here?
She had followed streams here from the east, then realized the west was dawning upon her. The sea must be quite close, she thought; it would be quite nice to greet it before the waters turned too frigid.
Many a wanderer had warned her of the so-called "hinterlands"; a place unforgiving, not quite in the ways of the north's harsh cold, rather, a distinct cruelty worn by the south. The forests, the mud, the very water stole - and many lives had thus been stolen here. But they also spoke of beauty, a strange one at that. Where light fell, there came life; and where light dared not peek, there, too, also laid life.
But still. They warned. Wolves did not enter this hellhole for a reason, at least not until famine had forced them to enter a desperate search.
Here, A'yan stood and wondered, as she looked about the rivers and forests alike. She turned to the water and asked,
Do you know what hell they speak of? I cannot see it.
She really did wonder. Where was the dreadful "cruelty of the south"? She chased the sun here, and surely the sun could not lead her to so much suffering? She laughed; laughed at the idea of hell in a place so vibrant.
Or perhaps it was because misery did not know A'yan's name.
RE: an afterglow, abandoned no longer - Talvani - April 19, 2025
talvani’s eyes narrowed from where she crouched along the rise. she had not meant to find anyone here. the land was too thick, too gnarled, too soaked in strange fog and stories. but the woman laughed—and laughter did not belong in the hinterlands, not unless you were its devil.
she moved soundlessly, picking her way through fern and root until the sun kissed her shoulders. she was leaner now, stripped down by weeks on the edge of the world, fur rough with travel and scent marked by wild things. her voice was low, blunt, not unfriendly—just edged like the blade she’d once been named for.
you don’t know it yet,she said, stepping from the trees, gaze set on the bright-eyed woman by the water.
but it knows you.
a pause, then, as she came closer. talvani didn’t bristle. didn’t posture. she looked, appraised—then flicked her gaze to the river, where the woman had been speaking.
water’s sweet here. too sweet.a pause.
that’s how the land gets you.
hope this is okay:)
RE: an afterglow, abandoned no longer - A'yan - April 20, 2025
ofc!!! this is about to be fun lol
This was a woman edged in the kindest of creams and whites, yet here she spoke of a hell that seemed to be etched into the very earth. But A'yan simply found it a little more comical at the idea that the embodiment of suffering would play hide-and-seek. Did hell like children's games? She could try moss ball next.
Hell knows me?A'yan remarked.
Good. That makes introductions much simpler.
As the woman came closer, she dipped one paw in the water again, feeling the current nudge it here and there.
Sweet?Suddenly curious, A'yan leaned to take a sip, then lifted her head back to face the stranger.
Not sweet. Where are you finding sweet -
Ah.
You are... a northerner?She titled her head a little, trying to get a better view of her.
I see that you speak in metaphors wide and strange. The southerners I have met have been... more direct.
She gestured towards the water.
You do not want this clear water? In a place full of anything but? Why?
RE: an afterglow, abandoned no longer - Talvani - April 20, 2025
talvani stood still a moment, ears twitching as she tried to catch all the woman’s words—so many, too many, twisting round each other like fish in a stream. her brow furrowed in soft confusion, though there was no offense in her posture. only patience.
you speak…she began slowly, carefully, tongue thick with accent,
...like wind in tree. soft. many turn. i do not catch all.
her eyes, pale and stormborn, drifted to the water. her paw lifted and swirled it gently.
yes. i am from north. where river is ice. where water bite.a small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, crooked but genuine.
sweet there. clean. earned.she motioned toward the still pool below them.
this… too easy. sweet should not be easy.
she tipped her head to study the shadow-colored girl.
but maybe…she added, soft and honest,
maybe i am strange wolf. not know south. not know… moss ball.
a blink. then, after a pause—
you teach me?
RE: an afterglow, abandoned no longer - A'yan - April 24, 2025
Ah. Sorry.The speech of Halfshatter was showing itself on her tongue again, it seemed.
I will try to speak with more press to each word.
Again she turned back to the water and took a sip, and again she looked back up.
Still not sweet. Clean, I do not know. But I am yet to die, or see someone die to this water, so worry, I will not.She stood there, wondering.
Brave or foolish, do you think?
A pause; a silent moment of rumination for her. She did not know the answer to her question.
She should not have been so surprised when the stranger did not know what moss-ball was, but found herself taken aback anyway.
Is there not enough moss in the north to play moss-ball?she asked.
What a pity. It is only right that I teach you.
Moss here was not difficult to find; all the wolves in the world could play moss-ball with all of this. A'yan picked some up and rolled it into a semi-round shape.
Moss-ball is a simple thing. Toss among yourself, or others. But every family plays moss-ball differently.
She paused again. Too many words, perhaps. She had to explain it in a way a northerner would understand. Their eloquence was different from that of the south and of the east A'yan had come from.
She gestured back to the water.
Home was a carving of rivers. There, sisters and brothers try to grab moss-ball and run. Much tackling, much chaos. Much laughter.She dipped the ball in water.
If the ball touches water, moss-holder loses. Repeat until one winner.She chuckled.
But - ah. It is more fun at night. One person bring many moss balls and run. Others wait, then chase. Runner leaves moss with their scent behind to let chasers find them.
Again, regions differ.A moment to sit and consider.
Children of the woods rub the ball in odd scents, then hide them. Children of the mountains toss the moss about until it goes down some slope or cliff. Children of the plains race to see who can bring moss the furthest.
I have been doing much talking. Too much. Apologies.A'yan turned back to the woman.
Say, will you please tell me of the games of the north? I wish to know.