7.5.2017.
Decided to walk around the forest and visit some places she had been missing lately, what with her extended stay near the pond. Didn't get too far before being found by Vala and taken for a lovely romp with complimentary pranking. Though they visited several mushroom rings, Doves was giggling too hard to doze off properly so only Vala would rush in and transform someone into a rabbit unawares. They also arranged a backwards parade near the Twins and managed not to break the coordination for a good while. Said goodbye for a while, then reunited near an antler tree and feasted on pinecones with some others. Stumbled upon a sleeping Verone, but the child seemed fine on its own.
Later went to sun herself on the flat stones of the Playground and fell asleep there on the warm moss.
6.5.2017.
Spent some time curled among the deep poppies at the base of the Crying Idol, happily staining her sides with the red pigment in the process. Spotted Val in the distance with a small, fishy fawn and hopped over to greet them.
sometime, somewhere
Sat with the stone idol at the Ruins for a while, drawing warmth from the sun-warmed stone and affection from the calm ancient face. Later went to the Pond for a drink and encountered Cu, Amary and an unknown fun. Excellent playtime followed, feeling happy and energetic as a result.
Met a very curly and soft Vidente by the pond, was later joined by Val and Glitch for a flower fest.
chrismacrist
Woke up with the early morning fog and set to walking with her small load of presents. She had been busy this year and began gathering as soon as the first snows fell, and with some help from the birds she had managed a nice pile, all very obviously handmade.
Left a river pearl bracelet, a white feather shrug and a handful of bright berries for Octavia, instantly cheered up by the signs of her presents and gifts!! Snuggled into the warm cloak and nommed some of the candy immediately, leaving the rest for later.
Then sniffed about for Jezara, but found her scent old and fading. Not too worried, reassured by their last conversation and knowing of her wandering urges, so secreted away a cluster of amber with small flowers embedded, several dried sprigs of good plants and a handful of pinecones, several painted brightly with berries and petals. Retreated to her nest, warm and happy.
22.2.2016.
-moved around, bored and lonesome
-met a Satu through mutual spoopification
-learned to tweetbork after squinting suspiciously
-curious'd out of hiding by weird doge belly-ups and tail waggings
-she speaks tailwag too
-test-invited noodledog for playingses
-*gasp*
-noodledog FAST
-noodledog FRIENDLY
-flopped for rest with noodledog to ponder these new developments
-doge wants to tweet? not very good at it but ohkay I show
-spooped again by happy doge borkborks with a sprinkling of howl
-make a no nom, no scare deal
-warm their hearts on the fire of frandsheep
30.1.2016.
-flopped
-bathed
-flopped in poppies
-went ooc for a game of find me and failed
-saw a gigantic someone (the Titan! Laughing out loud) and spied from behind a tree
-terrified of their size but bowed nonehteless, hten watched it leave calmly after a while of mutual staring
-maybe huges aren't so bad??
-weird
-sitting by the pon under a willow, pondering
26.1.2016.
-feeling better after the snuggle with Thais
-went back to the pond for a wash
-stuff i don't remember because essay
-met a faw (map derped) , played with across the forest
-fawn saw a huuuuuuge pwhite and purple spiky thing (Komir) playing with another fawn
-dude
-ur huge O.O
-after some hesitation joined the game, keeping to the edges and and always with an eye on the huge
-turns out the huge isn't so bad wait where you go?
-slight confuzzlement and guilt but did not follow in case the huge wanted to be left alone?
-more plays
-more stuff I don't remember because procrastinating on the essay
-went to sleep on the far side of the lake
-not yet ready to go back to the birch, chilled by what she might find there (such as my unfinished essay)
25.1.2016.
Still distressed from last night, as well as tired from not getting any sleep. Worried about Octavia never coming back and slowly working on mustering the courage to go and check on her. Eventually the restlessness won and she got up to visit Octavia, only to see her in the company of a suspicious!coloured adult. They didn't seem to be hostile,though, so she waited for a while just in case before wandering on unnoticed.
Visited the Twins first to say a little prayer and ask for advice, but none were forthcoming. Stared at the calm carved faces some more, wishing she could know what went on in those stony heads of theirs. After a while she gave up and went to the Pond for a drink, then curled up underneath a willow. Feeling lonely, tired and insecure, dozing.
Eventually frustration struck and she got up, deciding to walk EVERYTHING off. Dragged herself around until encountering Thais. She remembered the doe as calm and friendly from a few encounters a long time ago, and the sight of a familiar face finally made something crack. Performed the stiffest, most awkward greeting ceremony ever and crumpled when it was accepted. Lay like a ragdoll by the older doe, back to back, feeling the beginnings of relief.
24.1.2016.
Was a pretty normal, boring day until Octavia flew in hurt and in tears. Distressed and desperate, couldn't stop fussing around her friend. After many hugs coaxed some information out of her and had a long talk about the importance of curiosity and the link between loved ones and violence. Reluctantly let Octavia go after a while, with a sick feeling in her gut. Knows her friend wouldn't get any peace unless she went back, but also knows apologising for getting beaten would not solve a thing. Did not sleep, feels guilty and helpless for not knowing how to help.
25.15.2015.
Counted the days on her hooves, hoisted up her load of trinkets, braced herself against the cold and stepped out to play Santa Claus.
The Octohousehold was empty, but she left the necklace at the tree as well as the hairpin she had found a few months ago, leaving enough of her scent on them to be recognized. After a bit of thinking she also left a painted walnut for the Al. Found some gifts intended for her too which made her all awwy and yayy and tweety because her best friend had not forgotten about her and that rocks! Heart clenched a bit when she realised they were pelts, mostly because the thought of Oct murderizing cute fluffy foxlets or Oct murderizing at all is seriously sad stuff. BUT then remembered the awws and yays and the tweets, and that made it superalmostbetter. Christmas is compliculated stuff, sigh, but still THANK YOU FRAND ILU. <3
Didn't attempt to reach Jezara's home by That Oak and its eternal snickering. Rather, she sought out the Ceravi's scent and after a bit of a walk left the second necklace and a load of berries secreted away at a spot where the winged doe was sure to find it. She stayed there for a few moments, inhaling the comforting scent and promising to return soon, hoping the winged doe would be there too.
Chain and Caesar were next. The bribdeerfrands were long missing, but she still could not imagine not visiting the places the duo had frequented. After a fruitless hunt for either of their scents, she settled for Chain's old haunt and ventured back to the stones. Vague, indeterminate guilt mixed with longing as she left their gifts at the Playground and she chose not to think about why she included a dry flower for each.
Sufficiently chilled and hungry from all the walking around, she returned to the Drinkplaatz and holed up in her hollow under the slab. Toasty under her russet pelt and gently stroking the one that had once been a fox, she watched the snowflakes mingle with the sparks in the sky and remembered.
24.12.2015.
Started on her gifts first thing after waking up. You can do it! Game face! Hell yeah!
Or not.
Took one look at her pile of hobby supplies to know this was not going to work. There were things that hooves simply were not designed for, and making dangly necklace things from recycled bits of the forest is definitely a thumb thing. Refused to give up, though, and nagged an elderly woodpecker to the Ruins and back about helping her out just this once, pinky promise! In the end made a deal, according to which the woodpecker could have some of her fur and hair for its nest and she could have invaluable drilling and stringing assistance.
It turned out precisely as expected. Four necklaces took form, one for each of her dearest friends, and she paired each with a pile of berries, nuts, seeds or other edibles. At the end of the process she thanked her bird assistant profusely, but she felt it got more satisfaction from ripping out its reward with youthful vigour, filching a fat almond and then threatening to pluck out her eyebrows. At least she thinks it was a threat. It could have been a promise.
Rubbing her sore head and shoulders while mumbling under her breath some of the more colourful words in her vocabulary , she ventured out to the Crying Idol to soak her wounds and tend to her pride. By the bridge she found a familiar bunny (Bavu) whoisthegreatestsethelperofthemall and also an excellent snuggle buddy. Proceeded to do just that until falling asleep by the Twins (a.k.a. player's connection conked out). When she woke up the little guy was nowhere to be found, but she was later approached by a a horned and masked fawn that blew colourful bubbles at her. She blew a bubble back and soon they were jumping around the trees and casting antler spells at each other.
Warmed up by the exercise as well as the warm touch of magic, she returned to the Drinkplaatz and waited for Christmas.
23.12.2015.
Unaware it is her birthday, only knows that the snow has returned, the bubbles are making everything quiet and the awful part of the year is indeed going to repeat itself. Still feels the old apprehension, even though she has grown enough in height to reach the lowest mushrooms and her fur has become long, soft and fluffy, with several birdfuls of feathers entwined with it. This time she has resolved to meet the winter head on.
For a while now she has been spending her time insulating the nest at the Drinkplaatz - carpets of moss, twigs and, of course, feathers were brought together under the slanted slab by the fountain to form a nest of sorts that looks awfully messy because baby ain't a crafter. Hopefully it and the warm air of the Plaatz will help keep her temperature high, but in the worst case scenario there are still other, fluffier deer who occasionally wander in the enchanted circle.
It was from eavesdropping on a pair of other deer that she learned about Christmas, and the fact it was just a few days away probably came as a punishment for being a sneaky little sneak. Went on a gathering spree, running around the entire forest in search of shiny rocks, grass, walnut shells, discarded bits of masks, blueberries and cranberries for paint, as well as long blades of dry Birch grass. Stored the whole lot under her slab, but was too tired to actually do things with it, to the great amusement of the local birds.
24.10.2015
-snuck back to the edges of the shallow forest and was pleased to smell the musk and other odd scents had mostly dissipated
-returned to the 'plaats in the night and slept under the slanted stone, cheek pressed against her meager possessions
-in the morning roused, bathed in the magical water and sought nourishment in the blue bowl
-the stillness of the forest rests comfortably still in her breast, like a smooth stone. enabled her to sink to the bottom of the bowl and be passed unseen by two older deer. Mildly curious but not worried.
-roused again a while later and inhaled the open air. Caught several familiar scents and noted the absence of more than a few.
-Disappointed by the utter lack of her oldest acquaintances Chain and Caesar, misses their presence dearly in the face of so many questions. Yearns futilely for their return, doesn't wish to believe they are dead. Distressed by the fading of Octavia's fragrance too, worried by her unannounced absence but also used enough to folk disappearing not to assume the worst. Or so she tells herself. While remembering the birbdeer duo and assuming the worst.
-muttering to herself like an old cat lady returned to the 'plaats then went ooc to help with sets and so on
Dabbled in the Rut as an Involved Non-Participant. Due to player's prolonged inactivity because of real life business she was not able to interact with others in forest or in text, so let's say she only observed passively from afar. Yikes. +50 Pacifism
The Rut came and went, leaving her confused and rudderless. Kept out of the way as usual when unfamiliar things are afoot and observed plenty. Awed by the power and passions displayed, but renewed her wariness of adults after seeing them all go loud, proud and loco. Learned about the birds and the bees in her own kind, but due to negative associations with violence it is not perceived in a very positive light. Is practical enough to see the importance of it but eh. Ponders the difference between calm mates she observed tending to their families and the wild strutting and hoarding of the Rut. Somewhat similar behaviour was admittedly observed in birds, but as it featured a lot more preening and dancing she hardly deems the Rut prefferable. Only makes enough sense of it to know it does not concern her as of yet and belongs to the secretive world of adults. Still child enough to let it be and trust someone would come and explain it to her when the time came. Eventually slunk back to the deep forest and its secret groves, giving herself up to the meditative silence and solitude.
27.8.2015.
Encouraged by all the snuggable beings found nearby, she has ventured back from the Birch to the Pond.
23.8.2015.
Still by the Pond, she awoke to the company of a large grey cat(Kjersti). She was a very happy child, thrilled by all the fluff and the cat's willingness to be snuggled. Enjoyed the feline's presence for a while before it took its leave, only to be replaced soon after by Kestrel. Greeted his presence politely as she remembered him from the time spent in the company of his group, Natasha and Octavia. Shook her short braids in awe at his majestic hairdo and soon started enjoying the company in earnest.
Then stuff happened the player forgot to write down T.T But there was an awkward moment with another deer and Doves backed away all confuddled to the Birch? UGH that's what I get for not writing stuff down in time.
22.8.2015.
Spent the morning quietly sitting by the fountain, soaking in the sun and enjoying the occasional grass scented breeze. Rose a few times when she heard fawns bleating, but could not find the source and finally gave up when adult moos joined in.
Returned to her spot and hummed softly to herself as she cuddled a placid looking bunny, but got interrupted when a gurgle and a tinkle and a tiny splash were heard from the fountain. Sneaked closer and in the shimmering water saw a small shiny item. It was a pretty hairpin shaped liked a bird holding a mirror, and when she peered into it for a moment greyer eyes seemed to look back. Intrigued and excited by her find, she took it into her mouth and hopped merrily away to find her friend and share the news. Was disappointed when she spied the den empty and returned again to the 'plaatz, storing the hairpin on the flat top of the fountain with other trinkets. Cleverly covered it up with a bunch of reeds, more due to magpies than less mundane thieves.
The excitement wouldn't let up, however, and the fountain was soon deemed boring so she wandered away in search of something to do or somebody familiar. Her path lead her to the Pond, where a playful Vala helped redirect her thoughts into something productive - namely, playing. They were at it merrily enough until another deer(?) seemingly attempted to join, but then changed his tune for the worse, instantly scaring both does away. After a few tense moments she found the small red across the stream and together they waited until they were sure the other was gone before exchanging goodbyes.
Was shaken up enough to put all thoughts about the hairpin out of her mind for a while, so she sat by the pond brooding about nothing in particular. After a while went to sleep in her old hollow by the Pond. Later awoke to an unknown doe (Mairiane) curled up next to her and roused only enough to make sure it was safe. Thankful for the comfort both of a familiar place and another's touch, she scooched drowsily closer before going back to sleep.
31.5.2015.
Whatever sweet, kind, caring soul cast magpie feathers on Doves while I wasn't looking and gave her her beloved feather cloud back... BY GODS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!? Proper update later, but the short version includes a kid mad with joy ricocheting off stuff and running all over the forest whilst completely spazzing out. Lots of babbly bird sounds and happy screeching, and absolutely NO singing. *cough* You heard nothing. Felt like floating on air by the time she reached the fountan. Happy and contended, passed out by the 'plaatz. Eventually. >.>
-sometime, somewhere-s
tba - delving deeper into hippiness and 'green thoughts,' starting to form bonds with the trees in the Birch. Chats with them in bird and sings them songs occasionally, feels as if they are benevolently watching over her as she wanders all on her lonesome. Except that one dude. Oak's still majorly creepy. Beginnings of a crush for a particular hazel? Get them while they're young, eh? Sneaky, sneaky plant >.> At least he's a good dancer, quite flexible.
-sometime, somewhere-
tba- in the absence of deer company(also because player is a busy jerk), she has begun following the ways of birdfolk, especially when it comes to berries. Avoiding bushes birds won't land on or eat from is apparently a good choice. Black and blue are good for you, red and yellow kill a fellow.
-sometime, somewhere-
tba - snow stopped. Finally. GTFO winter, who needs you anyway! Her spots became a touch brighter as new flakes landed on her back, but faded as the cold spell passed and it all melted. Rust-and-'range Birch camo mode engaged once more. Still shedding like crazy, still sporting a mad hair do courtesy of Nature. David Bowie meets a leaf blower.
4.5.2015.
tba - mother of snow, it's snowing?! AAAAAAAH nopenopenopenope. Scared of winter coming back and being devilishyl hungry again, so the first thing she did was bolt from the already cold waters and towards the Birch. Lots of 'plaatz time and staring at the sky suspiciously, later cuddles with an absent looking Chain when it let up a bit. After trying to knock some snow on the doe's antlers but shhh you know nothing. Stared some more as the snow got stronger again, like hell was she walking back in that weather. Stole Chain's warmth until falling asleep, awoke to the doe gone. Sadfaced. 6.5.2015.
-sat with Chain
4.5.2015.
It is a peculiar kind of sensation that strikes a fawn waking up in a cold, white world. There is none quite like it, and it begins with a chill. It strokes her hair and runs pale fingers through her fur, cooling the pale skin underneath. Then an opening of the eyes, followed by a moment of silent wonder at the surrounding white. Snow.
A familiar thing, snow. She remembers it falling the day she opened her eyes. It was falling when she met Jezara and her name. It was also falling when she wandered, alone and hungry, until finding the warm place.
As her mind awakens fully, she understands that snow has no place here. She moves to the edge of the pond and drinks, but the water is so cold it sits heavy like a stone in her stomach. It makes her queasy, and along with the memories she chokes down a sob.
(summer, the doe-mothers by the creek called it)
She was bigger now, if only slightly, and stronger. Pinecones no longer hung beyond reach nor was there i
She woke up to a cold and white world. Again. Her breath fogged the air in front of her face as she took in, uncomprehending, the silence that she knew only existed when snow fell.
-straight for the warm place
-later to the playground
-challenge
-found chain
-snuck up on her and tried to plop down some snow, but the doe was too far
-eventually hopped down and sat next to the quiet owl doe, and fell asleep watching the snow
26.4.2015.
Days were not something one counted in the forest. Their change was far too sporadic to be marked or connected in any way, and yet she knew that time must have passed. Captured by the now familiar restlessness, which seemed to surface right about the time she began noticing that underneath the forest's sounds there was nothing but an empty silence, she zipped through the forest with eyes closed in the face of the wind, welcoming each stinging branch and tripping bramble with a bitter sort of vehemence that only spurred her forward rather than hold her back. She was lonely. She resented it. She was angry. (In the quiet bowers of her soul, this anger resonated as a baffling, incomprehensible thing that frightened her. So many things did. This particular one made her heart feel bruised and battered, herself young and lost, and very much like running away from it. Only, was she not already running? And towards whom? Who was there to welcome her and make it feel better? No one at all.)
She felt none the better after her run. Instead, as she slowed down to a trot by the Pond, panting and dishevelled, she was welcomed by the sight of the dark stag who had gifted her with a feather (Salem). He was staring blankly across the water, his pale face slack and unreadable. His feathers, though, were as glossy and unruffled as always, she noted with a raven’s offended hiss. It was the ugliest sound she had ever made, and ch He did not move to greet her, to look at her, to do anything at all to acknowledge her. She stared at him resentfully for a while from where she stood, all too plainly in sight, and soon moved on without saying a word.
(There was a reason why the heart was a secret.)
The Playground was her next stop. There was a stone there, slippery with moss and difficult to climb, but high off the ground and offering a good view of the area. She would sun on it often in her seclusion, and toss fleeting glances at one particular tree, from which the occasional gust of wind would bring a smell that to her was nothing but unpleasant. (Memories could have smells, this she knew very well.) She came to it now in search of some peace, but when she saw neither Octavia nor anybody else she knows nearby, she slid back down in order not to contaminate the place with her disappointment.
Sapped of energy and will to do anything at all, she plopped down by the stones dejectedly and spent some hours simply gazing at the grass swaying in the wind and the moss... being moss. The bugs were the only things that moved, the ones with grey shells most numerous, while the tiny red ones could only be seen if you concentrated on one until the others started popping into view. A small, long-tailed, sharp-winged bird with a whistle that was very high and lilting (It sounded almost like a song. The bird, at least, would always sing to her.) liked those bugs best of all, and one soon appeared and offered itself to her gaze.
It chirped at her, and she chirped back. Then it hopped closer, and she kept very still, only to have it fly away. Such was the way of birds, and its offhand cruelty had stopped surprising her a long time ago. But still it stung a little, and she followed its flight with a gaze consisting in equal parts of longing and envy. That was when she saw the stag (Manda).
She was still curled up by the cold stone, small and red on the red ground. The large, skull-faced stag staring at her was red too, only a much paler, milder shade. There was paint on his skull, and the macabre thing was pointed straight at her. They exchanged glances, fleeting and awkward, but as the contact lengthened she found that she did not feel as tired and lonely as she thought. There was now apprehension and wariness as well, so after a while of it she stood up and walked away. Or ran. Take it as you will.
And then, Caesar. Out of nowhere he appeared, black and blue and dear as ever. Cooed and crooned quietly at the raven stag as he led her to her den, probably appearing much younger as she clung to him gratefully. She quieted down quickly enough, however, when she saw that the orange stag and his blue-masked friend had followed them.
The awkward staring from before resumed, and when Caesar had to go she only felt more exposed and vulnerable. The more she looked at the orange stag the more familiar he seemed, but even after his mask came off she simply could not place him. This feeling of displacement and the ongoing fear – the mask, the size! - made it simply impossible to stay. She vanished into the grass of the Birch and was thankfully not followed.
10.4.2015.
Caesar happened, yay! Will fill in once the RP is done.
7.4. 2015.
Woke up in the warm place deeply content and drowsy, tried to delay opening her eyes by reaching for her dreams. The sun beckoned warmly from above, however, and the dreams were fleeting, so eventually she stood up and stretched before going around the mushroom circle and looking for flowers. Picked the hyacinths that grew there and let them float in the shimmering water, watching how their colours turned brighter and their smell sweeter as time passed. Prattled quietly to the animals too for practice, chatting with the birds, bats and bunnies about the new things she had discovered in the forest and how even the Crying Idol seemed more cheerful now that spring was here. Rolled around in the daisies and dandelions, chased birds and butterflies, and generally just enjoyed herself.
It took her a while but eventually she grew bored and wanted company. Feeling energetic, she went to the Playground and romped around with some fawns, climbing on rocks and tumbling down from them and looking who could jump the farthest. Then she spied Octavia in the distance and felt a pang of nostalgia, but did not approach because Alabaster was standing RIGHT THERE.
Noped away to the Pond, but couldn't sit still, not after seeing Octavia for the first time in aaaages. Took to the Playground once more, just to watch (or so she thought). Until she realised they were suddenly gone, just like that. Interest, stubborness and apprehension piqued, she followed at a safe distance all the way to the Ruins. Then came the hour of the reckoning, because Octavia finally spotted her, and so did Al. Feeling rather torn and panicked, she shook a little and bowed politely to the white stag, remembering quite well her excursion into the dangerous world of trespassing on other people’s dens. She did not, in fact, get antler'd, and the big dude looked pretty disinterested about her as well. She was more than glad to go aside to play with Octavia, but also made sure they did not wander too far. It would not do to provoke him.
Later almost bolted when Octavia wanted them to sit next to him. Oh hell no. Had to be persuaded by a sharp tug on her ear to sit closer to the white stag, but did it because friends are love, friends are life. Kept one eye on the white one all along, feeling her heart beat furiously once more, and felt like she really, really shouldn’t be here. That feeling involved Caesar somehow, but didn’t know what make of it so she just snuggled up to Octavia and tried not to think about it. Sigh.
Later a pretty white male appeared (Kalidas), sending everyone in panic. Confused, stuck to Octavia as the adults talked, then the fawns were led away and left to their own devices as the adults talked some more. She could sense Octavia was upset and tried to distract her with playing, but in the end they just stood side by side and exchanged nervous neck hugs.
After a while the situation seemed resolved and Alabaster reappeared. She tried to shrink into nothingness as the male approached, but again nothing happened so she ended up trailing after them awkwardly. All the way to their home tree, in fact, before it all got too much and she said goodbye. Retreated once more to the warm place and thought in circles until she fell asleep.
22.3.2015.
It was a misfortunate day.
It began merrily enough, with a prance and a dance with a curious raven and some other deer (only recognized Flyleaf, sorry *shakes fist at map*), as well as a short, apologetic pause by the warm place, which she had not frequented quite as much. She cuddled the bunnies there, flew a little and ate quite a few berries before bidding them goodbye. And then things turned sour.
It was by the ruins that she saw a white doe sleeping, pierced with arrows and huddling in a flower patch (Sacese). Another fawn was there too and they approached the doe together, only to have her wake up nearly instantly. The other fawn kept coming closer and nuzzling the white one, but she stayed back, eying the arrows sadly. What pain the doe must have gone through to have acquired them and let them remain…
She did not notice immediately that the doe was leading them away, but suddenly the white one’s horns turned at the other fawn and she jumped back in surprise. The white one rammed and trampled, but the fawn kept showing her kindness. She tried to warn the other one, tried to make it flee, but it remained by the white one’s side, even as she tore its fur in big clumps, blood welling underneath.
Finally, she fled the troubling sight and leapt into the tall grass, tangling and untangling herself with each leap until she could not see the doe anymore. There was no escaping what was in her mind, though, and she wept softly, soundlessly, tearlessly, the long stems sighing as they swayed as if they wished to join in lament.
Wherever she went after that her legs kept moving her towards the big oak. The tree’s incessant hum made her even more skittish and restless so she swerved away, to the Gods’ hill. There, feeling awkward before the great stones, she offered a prayer and breathed a sigh of relief when they answered, enveloping her in white. But soon the sign of their favour went away, and she was by the oak once more! (Player should really turn up the ambient sound. Sneaky tree.)
Convinced something was at work here, she ran away and sought comfort by the Crying Idol. The big stone remained silent but for its weeping, which suited her just fine as she huddled next to it, even though it stained her pelt with crimson. She stared from among the poppies and soon dozed off, but was roused by the sounds. She recognized one of them (Silence), but the other (Elliot) was foreign, so she remained where she was and simply observed.
For a while everything was still, but the arrival of a fanged creature (Ramsus) prompted her to leave. She moved to the Pond and looked at the water for a bit, but she leaned too far and the crown of flowers on her head fell off. It landed in the water with a splash and began drifting slowly towards the centre of the pond.
A cold sort of panic came over her. The flowers were a gift, a precious one that had very well saved her during the long winter. It was not indestructible, however, and even now there were petals drifting away from the soggy wreath. She had to get it back. Had to.
She considered calling for one of the adults nearby, but they would probably simply tell her to get another one. So she carefully stepped down the steep bank, only to lose her footing and tumble down into the deep water. Instantly she was a frog, but she had closed her eyes anyway.
It was difficult work, tugging at the wreath here and there without it sinking or unravelling. It was even more difficult to keep her objective in mind, when that same mind seemed to turn blank with every fly that buzzed past, intent only on catching it.
Finally, she succeeded, and flailed in the shorter waters until she found the muddy bottom once more. Drawing the wreath close and shaking off the water once, there she lay, among the reeds and wind-tickled waves, until she fell asleep.
19.3.2015.
She woke to see the rain gone, the forest positively glowing with sunlight. The air is fresh on her face and she drinks it in deeply, looking up every now and again to make sure the sky is still bright behind the tree tops.
She spells joyous cries with her body as she jumps, doing acrobatics in mid-air and working the winter out of her bones. It feels good to run and stretch every limb, and when she tumbles under a tree it isn’t only because she is out of breath. She lowers her head to her legs and peeks out from the grass, nose full of its scent, and inhales the spring.
It isn’t long before her rest is interrupted, though, by a reek of blood and smoke wafting from nearby. Immediately attentive, she notices an odd stag standing in the flowers (Crowley/Crooked). Curiously thin and lanky, he returns her questioning gesture (not being eaten on sight? good sign!), but makes no threatening move as she moves closer and stands there rather patiently while she investigates. In the end he turns out pretty friendly for someone reeking of murder, so she plays with him for a while before they both flop down into the violets. The black stag seems sluggish, and after a while of vigilance she too lets the sun warm her into sleep.
She wakes up to the sounds of play and a pack of unfamiliar cubs (Devereux, Adelaide, ‘LeslyBrin’ and Starless?, respectively) romping in the flowers. While their faces are of rather macabre bone, their joy is impossible to ignore so she joins them first in play and then in a fawn puddle by a nearby tree.
13.3.2015.
Four days have passed. Four days of nothing but wind howling sadly in the Ruins and rain falling, falling, falling. Deciding she had had enough hiding in sleeping foxes’ tails and fleeing whenever they awoke, she disentangled herself from the numerous tails and stepped down into the rain
The ground is soft and water wells around her hooves as she wanders aimlessly. So she moves away, seeking higher ground, and ends up at the playground. There is Octavia, at play with another deer, and her heart wrenches yearningly towards the other fawn. But she is not recognized, and soon Alabaster appears in the distance. She flees the white stag but Octavia moves towards him. Resigned, she huddles under the edge of the slanted rock, barely covered from the rain.
There are others here. A mother and a son (Rin and Goro, I think), apparently, the former fast asleep but the latter awake and watchful. She feels curious of them, of their calm and unity, and wonders what it would be like to have a mother. She had certainly never had one, but did not feel lacking in any way. (Well, it would be nice to have someone to huddle with on rainy days like this.) But it is also uncomfortable being so close to the small family, so she scoots awkwardly closer to the centre, and the third deer there.
It seems to be a stag, although one can never be certain here. Silver-haired, night-pelted, carrying a vibrant mask that did nothing to hide the pain the stag was in. Curiously, she continues to observe, and what she sees makes her frown. Nothing healthy could ever make such shallow breaths, this she knows, and it frightens her to see one in pain like this. And all alone, just like her, nothing but a cold rock to lean on.
She looks back, to the little family. They do nothing. It is this that breaks her away from her caution, after some hesitation, and moves ever so slowly closer. Gently, gently, careful not to bump or jostle, she lowers herself next to the other deer, keeping a wary eye on them. This would not be the second time she was tricked by feigned hurt. But the stag does not growl, or hiss, or lunge at her. In fact, the stag does nothing at all. So she lowers her head on her outstretched legs and stares out into the rain, until her eyelids flutter and she stares no more.
9.3.2015. (popped in shortly because YES UNI YES)
A boring, cold day. The Ruins are still wet and windy, but she has neither the need nor the courage to try finding a place for herself at the Old Oak. With Kettu’s many tails within easy reach, she chooses to keep to her fear and stay away from the tree. The fox' warm fur smells better anyway.
8.3.2015.
She woke up to see the forest a-shiver and a-prattle. Every leaf and very branch talked, churned, rattled and dribbled, creating a sound like that of a strong wind only very much different. Cold was dripping all around and over her, and when she sniffed the water, cautiously, she found it smelt of the sky.
She played for a long time and watched in amazement as her pale red coat turned a dark, glistening auburn. The flower crown Calfuray had given her kept away most of the cold, enabling her to soak to her heart’s content. Dripping like a little red cloud, she ran between the big flowers that had sprouted around and breathed in their scent deeply. She tried to peer between their petals but couldn’t reach, so she admired them from below.
She was greeting the weeping face when she heard sounds of fighting.
Nearby.
Instantly she was crouching in a hyacinth bush, green eyes peering between the bobbing blue heads and caring little about the mud staining her white belly. From there she saw a large crowd of deer, observing calmly as two does battled below them. Fierce and ferocious, the hopped and reared, swung around and ambushed. She twitched when a third deer stood between them, fearing they would be torn apart for meddling, but the does surprised her by complying instantly and respectfully. She cocked her ears, confused, and stared as the great mass of deer tumbled from the hill and took stand on one doe’s side or the other. All of it coordinated, all or it intentional.
She did not understand fighting, or at least not fully. Males had antlers, and females had them too. Except when they didn’t. Some had one, some a pair, some forests of things growing out of their heads, obscuring their snouts like trees or making them appear as if their faces were peering from between the jaws of some great beast. As for their purpose, she could only guess beyond what she knew by instinct and what was being presented to her here - to maul or to prevent being mauled. But not all does fought with antlers, some had fangs or claws or sharp quills. She guessed not all males fought with antlers either, but it was all too confusing to unravel, so she shook her head once to clear it and continued watching.
Even she had butted heads playfully, but only with a flower and only once. She was sorry to hurt it, and could not understand what the battling does had to gain other than hurt. But as the fights dragged on she found that a sensation of awe and respect had been slowly growing in her heart. It was wholly unlike the time Caesar had provoked the anger of a white stag (by trespassing, she realized and shivered once, nose suddenly full of the phantom smell surrounding the white one’s tree), a time that had inspired naught by fear in her. The feeling had felt natural, a thing that did not surprise her with its arrival and was not to be questioned when it told her, urgently, to flee. Was this what the does coveted also, as they clashed and fought and were separated and then chosen? If so, she was fulfilling their wish. At least to a degree.
(thisiswhatmynotesoriginallylookedlike: Thesis: not all fights end with friends being murdered. Further investigation needed.)
After a while she gave in to the realization that had struck her some time ago: hyacinths do not make good umbrellas. Feeling whatever magic that the violet flowers in her crown held murmur indignantly at all the work they had to do, she retreated respectfully from the bushes and left the battling deer to their own devices.
She galloped around wildly in an effort to warm herself, seeing that many deer chose to huddle either in couples under the trees or in groups in the tree. She steered away from the big hollow oak, feeling its vibration rattling her bones even from a distance. But then a scent tickles her nose and she stops, for she knows it well and has not smelled it in a long time.
Jezara’s creamy fur was barely visible through the crack between the oak’s great roots, and from its steady rise and fall she knew the winged one was asleep. How she could do that with the big tree’s incessant hum was inconceivable to her, but still she found it impossible to simply leave without at least greeting the other doe. She was missed.
She spent a long, anxious time squirming in place, being pulled towards and away of the forest singer at the same time. Other deer did not seem to mind. Indeed, they seemed to enjoy the hum. But her body was small and frail, and already that same hum was making her feel a strange, buzzing numbness. She could smell magic on it, an earthy sweetness unlike yet very much like that of the warm place with the fountain. But it was an intricate, old one, not like her sanctuary’s inviting, fickle one. So she mused and so she was indecisive. But all things crumble, and so did she.
Her feathers (a pang of pain) had been drawn to this place. She had not heeded them then, thinking them mad, but now felt regretful. If she had known how short the companionship would be, the adventure that had never happened would not be allowed to be so. And, finally in there it was Jezara. While she was out here, alone in the rain.
Finally, she gathered her wits and squeezed through the gap. Sat there, next to the sleeping Ceravi, little heart pounding as she looked around the smooth interior of the oak. Its sides were worn by countless deer rubbing against them, its ground a surface of dirt so beaten by hooves it was like wood itself, or maybe stone. An array of fragrances was gathered here in a low cloud, all of them clam and sleepy, but were overpowered by that of old trees, old ground. Older than anything that had ever passed under it, other than the Twins themselves.
Her eyes travelled slowly upward, taking in how the bark grew coarser and darker the higher up it was. Small bits of dust or fragrant wood would rain down occasionally as some creature skittered moved in its high, unseen nest, but higher still was a glimpse of the grey clouds, no leaves or branches marring it. Rain came through, there was no other way, but she felt nothing on her face, for that was how tall the oak was. The Oak towered over all other trees, and reached far beyond anything the pines or birches could ever dream up…
(Or maybe, the Oak was rooted in the sky and its true top lay hidden deep in the earth. There blind, small leaves grew and unfolded out of sight and never, ever crumbled, growing glassy and transparent in the light of nothing at all, for there may be nothing that could shed it, only black, black darkness. It was a big secret, one the Gods themselves had set upon it to keep, and the Oak hummed because it was laughing at all those who didn’t know it. Laughing mightily, constantly, infinitely.)
She couldn’t take it any longer and sprang out over the sleeping Jezara, into the rain. It clapped a heavy, watery hand on her back, but she had never loved its smell or touch more, even if she had only known it for a day. She hadn’t prayed in a long while, but found herself doing it now. Not in words or even thought, merely reaching out with her heart, hoping the Gods would hold it in their palms like they did her, that day when she was born and spots came from the sky to land on her fur, and comfort her.
And they did, ever so kindly. Not in words or even thought. Simply by their warm presence, stilling her breath, calming her fear through no means of her own, and sending Jezara, by whatever miracle, out in the rain after her. Throwing her into blind play, so that she might forget about the Oak and its secret, then exploring the crocuses and hiding comfortingly in their scent.
It wasn’t until they began their trek that the fear returned, but by then she was too busy catching up to the older doe’s strides to think much about it. Then they were there and she delighted in showing Jezara all one could do there, from nibbling on the grass to cuddling the fat, placid rabbits. She followed a circling dove around until she felt dizzy, then played with the sweet, warm water and changed shapes, testing them out among the blobs of magic that floated upward, shedding gentle light on the mushroom circle.
The dread began returning as they moved to the Ruins next, spurred on by meeting a night-pelted deer. She fearlessly hid behind Jezara, then went on following and they left the night-furred one behind. Then came the tall carved stones, and Jezara sought them a shelter from the rain before leaving. Leaving! Already! She did not wish that and hid her face in the other’s fur, trying to silently convince her to stay. But the winged one left still and she curled in her spot for a while, until she spotted an odd, glowing little creature (Brook) and a fox(Ketu). She moved next to the little one and sat with the odd thing despite the rain. Its lantern was warm and she observed the little glowing plants grow and wilt around them until, finally, she fell asleep. There the oak waited, and glowed green in her dreams.
28.2./1.3.2015. (Crazy-Legs McRunaway Dovey's side of the story. Corrections appreciated if needed.)
Awoke near the pond to a fawn standing nearby and gazing in the water. Before she could approach a mini deer appeared and invited her to play, which she gladly did. The fawn did not join in the dancing and romping and the mini left all too soon, so she hopped over to the creek and amused herself by jumping over it and back.
Moved steadily towards the Crying Idol, where a group of deer (Flyleaf, didn't recognize the others :/) were dancing in a line. She joined them for a while before going off again, first exploring the ruins then setting off towards the playground.
There she found a sleeping fawn (Octavia) and sat next to her to catch her breath, only to be startled soon after when Octavia awoke. After the originial giggle they set off to the stones and played, where Octavia proving to be a superior climber. After tumbling down, scaling back up and curiously examining a group of sleeping deer, they trailed back to the tree where they first met and settled comfortably, dozing off for a while. (This would be where my fawn discovered the concept of rotation and kept turning in circle regardless of my clicking, turning, cursing or begging. Especially beginng. >.>)
They were later approached by a white stag (Alabaster) who came startlingly close. Didn't realize his claim to the tree, so she retreated to Octavia's presence and may or may have not hidden her face in the other fawn's fur. Eyed the stag warily as he seemed to loom over them, but then came behind them and lay down calmly. Curiousity mixed with apprehension, but the other fawn didn't seem to mind so she stayed put as well.
After a while she saw a familiar figure (Caesar). She was glad to see the raven deer and greeted him with enthusiasm, but Octavia seemed scared and kept backing away from his hellos. She tried to show her it was all alright, but then they were both shocked by Caesar's sudden transformation to a fawn.
Octavia kept retreating until she bumped into the tree, and even the white stag who had been watching them intervened, placing himself next to her. She did her best not to mind him as she pressed against the other fawn, trying to convey with touch what she couldn't with words. She felt torn and looked at Caesar apologetically, especially when he came to sit next to them too.
Everything seemed to calm down a little until the white stag stood up again. She hopped away, as was her way, and the next thing she knew antlers were being lowered! The white one kept towering over the other fawn and, wary to approach, she didn't know what to do other than follow Octavia helplessly (and hope it would all go away). But the white stag seemed relentless in shielding the other fawn, and her indecision quickly turned her into a straggler.
Seeing Caesar attacked and her new fawn acquaintance being led away in such a manner was too much. She ran off, and soon Caesar followed, tripping along the way. She did not heed the raven deer's dancing nor did she see him settle down a little ways off. By the time he caught up she had already dropped down into the nearest growth of grass, a mere pile of scared, near-insensate fawn.
26.12.2015.
Wandered close to the ruins today and amused herself by jumping on and off the walls for a while. Tried to reach the tall, thin one, but it was too high and she kept tumbling down. Eventually moved on and smelled Windiga by the pond. Wanted to greet the curious creature, but he was surrounded by a group of other deer, battered looking adults (Bzaër, Valkëa, Moss). Their state and number were unnerving, so she hid in the grass nearby and decided to wait the visit out. She only succeeded in falling asleep, though, and when she woke up they were still there. Accepted defeat and slunk back to her den by the pond, the fish looked especially colourful today.
prior - tba
Dance party with Caesar. Glad to see him, but was frightened by a wolf-like creature that kept trying to approach her (Rhaegal). Stayed close but stuck to Caesar, still suspicious.
13.2.2015.
Ever since she had first felt the strings of fear knot around her hear when she let her hollow fall out sight, she had been testing them, stretching them a little tauter every day. She discovered that she had a taste for wandering, but still kept returning to the small patch of trampled snow too deep for her to move.
Now she was at her limits again, but did not want to go back just yet. Instead, she waited patiently and stared at the white expanse under the treetops until her eyes caught a mound that seemed to rise and fall, its ebb and flow following a deep, steady pulse. It could only be a sleeping deer, so she made her way over, stopping every few steps to perk up her ears and listen. The breathing didn’t change, however, and as she rounded the mound she discovered there was a whole world of warmth to be found on the other side. She curled up against the other deer’s back and dozed off, nose pressed against the fragrant brown fur.
When she awoke the snow around her was disturbed and there were hoofprints leading away from her. The other one must have woken up before she did and gone away, leaving her side cold once again.
It didn’t bother her much, but as the day passed and she grew drowsy again (the pond was nearly in sight. She felt its insistent pull.) she found another deer to share warmth with. Only, they disappeared as well, as did the next one. It seemed as if she only had to blink to make them go away, spirited away by the still forest air.
Finally she ended up by the pond again.
It was a lonely day.
--prior--
Days pass, and so does she. Moving as lightly and imperceptibly as time itself she slips between tapered trunks and leaves glimmering footprints in the snow. They will not be covered soon – she now knows better than to go out on a snowy day.
The last time she did was nearly the last time she did anything (this thought frightens her). She had been hungry for days then, the pond reeds too bitter to keep down and the bark of nearby trees too hard to peel off with her unwieldy teeth and too-soft mouth. Her weight, barely enough to break the thin cover of frost barring her from the chilly water, was not enough to dislodge sweet pinecones from the high branches. By the time she finally resolved to brave the winter, too much time had passed already.
She hesitated for a long time before dared to let her den slip out of sight. She disappeared into the blizzard and, alas, she wandered too far. When she finally came back the little hollow she had made for herself was now nothing but a small bowl full of snow
27.1. 2015. (Help me out here guys, the amnesia monster got me.)
There was word in the forest that a stag was celebrating his birthday. She heard of it while listening on a pair of does minding their babes by the river and repeated the word once, twice. Birthday. She had never heard of such a thing and, intrigued, decided to investigate.
The ruins were where the orange one was, sitting in the company of two others. She snuck behind them, crawling behind a short wall, but was discovered as soon as she peeked over it with the intention to steal a glance of this birthday thing.
Naturally, she bolted, but the orange one came after her. She was horrified by his face at first, but when he started dancing she realized it was but a mask. It still put her off, but underneath the fake face there seemed to be a calm kind of kindness that soothed her somewhat. Maybe it was his (admittedly rad) dance moves that did her in, but she refrained from running away and actually had fun. (:OOOOOOO)
And then her nose caught a familiar scent in the air. It was Her! The winged one! She became ecstatic and pranced around the calm doe as she approached, looking up at her with big eyes that smiled when her face was still.
Then the seventies came back to life They danced and played and lay down (she got to sit close to the winged one). Some other joined in later and began mooing, the noise of which made her rather skittish. But when neither the orange one nor the winged one reacted she joined in as well and celebrated. A birthday.
(Happy bday Mandapanda! <3)
25.1.2015.
Having a relaxed, somewhat OOC day as a belated happy-biggification. Got her new outfit (thank you, Flyleaf, Novaqi, Mis and IvyChain!) and lazed about a lot, socializing with some new players. Come say hi by the Drinkplaats! Laughing out loud
20./21. 1. 2015.
It seems to be a day for learning. After being introduced to nuzzles by Jezara, she becomes more tactile, and decides to be fearless for once when she is approached first by Chain, then her brother Caesar. Where one is shy, the other is wild, and with frequent pauses she proceeds to play with them both. They are later joined by another group of deer who seem to desire fun as well, but she is still ill and tires easily. Her companions make for good dozing company, and so she sleeps.
14.1.2015. –short because half three am. Urgh. Incoherence alert!-
Still sick and not feeling too well, despite the magic consumed from the Drinkplaats water. Spent the morning contemplating magic and thinking about ways of getting her feathers back. Feeling excited, especially after realizing Draven is in the forest, but upon tracking him down she is distracted by a large group of deer playing (sorry guys, couldn’t catch you all on the map. ‘twas fun!). Between chasing and running through the grass, she forgets all about it and dozes off once more in a pile of deer(with Lesedi?).
11.1.2015. -late and long, double ouch-
(Some very odd things kept happening while Doves was sitting [read: hiding in the foliage like a mini version of Magnum] next to the Drinkplaats the day before yesterday. The explodey flower ball thingy, lightning striking every few minutes, I even caught a snapshot of a pagan idol that appeared and promptly disappeared soon after. Suffice to say Doves had one hell of a time trying to figure it all out xD)
She didn’t understand why the winter had to return. It has been cold lately, yes, but this cold was a mean, sinister one that she knew she could not bear. She has been holed up in her little hollow for days now, only her face peeking out and warily watching the only world she had ever known turn suddenly hostile until even her guardedness turned to simple boredom. There is nothing she can do, however, besides tucking her face into her fur and going back to sleep.
(Oh love, how wrong you are.)
She awakes feeling groggy and sick. Oh Gods. Her head feels heavy and hot, and her body rattles with the emptiness of hunger and the insistent bites of the cold. She has to move, she has to move now, but is forced to take her time getting up, stretching clumsily to ease her poor limbs into life. She does her best to brace herself against the cold (doesn’t work), then sets out aimlessly into the forest.
As she walks, she stumbles often. Every few paces she needs to catch her breath, leaking out of her in erratic puffs. Her eyes are barely able to open and every now and again she dozes off, mid-step. It is a long, long walk, and her legs are close to giving up for good when she finally has to stop.
For a long moment, she stands still, nose quivering. Muted smells lie on the air and she unravels them slowly, one by one, trying to detect anything that would alert her to the presence of things more sinister than rabbits, bats or herself… Or… dare she even hope, a salvation?
And then, a wind weaves around the trees. It ruffles her fur playfully and flattens her ears to her head as if it were teasing. She sneezes, and the snowflakes that had gathered on her fur puff into a swirling cloud before settling slowly back.
She holds her breath, wide-eyed, then gives another sneeze. Taking the invitation for what it is, she weaves between the pale, flat tops of the mushrooms lining the circle obscured by pale blue mist. It parts for her like a veil, and beyond it she is greeted by sunlight. She approaches slowly, head swivelling from left to right, then stops when she feels dizzy.
There is soft, young grass here, into which she collapses, and water, lukewarm and oily and iridescent. It is so slick to the touch that light and shadows seep right off it, gathering in the valleys of the ripples spreading from the trickle of water coming from the stone pillar (it is crowned by red flowers).
The water is fragrant, and sweet on her tongue when she drinks her fill. Like the pinecones, it pops and cracks with magic on her tongue, and she can feel it changing her as she admires its taste.
She is a rabbit, a squirrel, a bat. For a glorious moment she is a dove and can enjoy flight, but a wild careen into the open brings her back into the frigidity of the forest and her own ill form. Only, she is not quite as ill. Where there was illness, now there is the smallest possible amount of Light. She can feel it warming her from the inside, but no matter how much she cranes her neck around she cannot see the glow emanating from under her skin. Instead, she writes silly circles in the ground until she is dizzy, and flops back into the grass.
After a while, she settles on the edge of the pond and takes a deep breath. A croak escapes her throat, but luckily no one is near to hear or recognize her. A glowing bug catches her attention and her tongue flicks out after it of its own accord. Only, it is not a bug, she realized after she missed. It is her true name!
She chases it for a good while. No matter how much she tries, it is always one step – or rather, hop - ahead of her. Her limbs are green and agile, but no deer could ever outrun the Gods, let alone a frog.
When she tires, she lies down into the greenery behind the fountain. Just as she is about to fall asleep, a bolt of white lightning strikes the pond, making her jump to her feet and freeze in terror. Her nose is full of ozone and the sweet smell of the pond water, which now seems to be everywhere. Just as she is about to relax, it strikes again, and again, and again, until finally she flees the mushroom circle and disappears into the cold, snowy forest once more.
2.11.2015. –late and short, ouch–
(by the way, I have no idea how this will tie up into our RP xD)
The morning failed to rise that day, night barely easing up under the cover of the trees. She picked her way carefully through the dimness, her hooves leaving small imprints on the forest floor that the twilight seemed intent on filling with purple. There was snow around the tombstones, well-trodden by now by the various denizens of the forest.
Her attention was drawn to a particular set of nearby hoofprints. They were big, much bigger than hers, and belonged to a stag who, she realized after a moment, sat perched on the stone slab in front of her like a macabre vulture (Draven). She froze, scared by his bulk at first, but when he promptly got up and started trotting about she realized he was actually pretty playful. Then he tripped. Huh.
She accepted the play and they were soon joined by IvyChain and Nimh. They sat together for a while and came close to dozing off, but got up anyway. Feeling bold from her encounter with the big ones and still eager to play, she went to a nearby group of fawns but was chased away. When she went back to the tree the big oaf was gone. Big footprints in the snow, however, betrayed his trail. (Spy!Doves.)
A search was launched promptly, but despite her stealth she was discovered! It was no problem though, for the games continued as if they’d never even stopped. Only… Draven kept tripping.
It was quite odd, and after a moment of hesitation Doves decides to teach him how to jump. She demonstrates her goal by jumping over the crossed logs, and others soon join in, fawns and adults alike. They play until exhaustion and curl up under the trees. The big oaf’s fur tickles her nose, but before she has the chance to sneeze she is asleep.
27.12.2014.
Lounged about for a while, then went to sleep when no company was forthcoming. (She dreamt of her feathers.) When she woke, she wandered for a while, then... witnessed a birth?
A small herd of deer prayed to the Gods, sitting quietly on their hilltop. The deer began to glow, then their coats turned white, and for a while they played. The warm birds of magic flew between them and for a while all she could see was white.
But then they retreated and she, unsure of her permission, followed. A gathering formed as they stopped, but before she could see anything else, a big deer (map derped out yet again) distracted her and led her a little ways off. They chased and circled for a while, and then they were gone.
Curious yet confused she went to the pond. Her mind was full of feathers, they coated her from the inside so she felt like her whole head was full of fluff. She stepped into the pond, mud squelching between her hooves and the water lapped gently around her calves.
Slowly, she stepped deeper. With longer strides, covering more ground. The magic began to happen when she was already up to her nose, barely able to push herself off the muddy bottom. The unmistakable tremble shook her limbs as they moved and shortened, popped in her lungs as the air escaped them – air that had no place in her, for she was small, smaller than the air that once occupied her.
She swam fast and far, and steered away from the fish. Her head felt better, whether from the sweet, fresh water or simply because there wasn’t much room for fluff. She didn’t know. She didn’t think.
Later, she lay beside a fawn (?) confused by the giant oak's hum. It turned in circles, aimlessly stared about, and bleated, bleated, bleated. Others were around so after a while she moved away, leaving the fawn to their own devices. Still, she couldn’t help but worry. Who, in the end, was family?
Sigh. Back to the pond it was. There she encountered a curious creature (Starfox) that seemed willing to play. They did, drawing circles around the little dip in the ground she had begun to call home. The little thing confounded her, being so curiously different from herself. But play was play, and she was not going to abuse her mind by wondering.
She sat for a while with the fox-like creature, staring at the lively stillness of the pond, then went to sleep. She missed, and she missed sorely.
26.12.2014.
It is light once more, and the cold is gone. It no longer permeates her, coils around her very bones, making her legs stiff and reducing her to shaking. The grass of her little earthen bowl is soft, but the frost covering it had made it uncomfortable. Now it was beginning to thaw.
She runs for a while to warm herself up, but meets none to share the news of this renewed spring with. The poppy fields are full, but only of sleepers. She curls next to one(Draven) for a while but is unnoticed as she slips away soon afterwards. The playing stones are deserted as well. Only the fish leap above the pond.
Looking up at a white flurry passing above her head, she notices that the birds are back. A smile curves her lips upward, and then, without cause or warning, her magic fails.
Her feathers, the pretty feathers she had found among the leaves on the forest floor, no longer hover around her ears. They would fall before, and often, but all she had to do was sit, wait and they would slowly drift back up, like autumn in reverse. Her coat pales suddenly as well, and the no longer dark world seems less vibrant than it did during the long night.
She stares for a long time at her feathers, worn so short a time yet beloved all the same. They are dead and abandoned once again and, the worst of all, utterly silent.
She wishes the light was not so bright. Her eyes prickle. After a moment, she turns and leaves. Her heart too sore to bear looking back, but she does it anyway.
-sometime, somewhere-
The magic tingles in her mouth, sweet sparks jumping with every crunch of the pinecone. The Light happens once more, and she does the little bow required for the spell to fly. Like a bird, of course, it flies and envelops the other deer. They change, and bow, and are away.
She stays at the tree some more, munching at pinecones. There is no guarantee whether her weight will be enough to dislodge one from its high perch, so she decides to enjoy them for as long as she can. The feathers around her head seem restless today and it is unlikely that her respite will last.
She twists her ears so as to hear them better. They rustle, sliding against each other, leaning in a wind that she cannot feel. It points east, urgent but not alarmed.
When the pull becomes unbearable, she gets up and follows it. Other deer appear as well, and she prances around them in greeting before moving on. The encouragement her feathers lend her bring a wildness into her step. She launches herself fearlessly at and around trees, leaving puffs of blue and strings of music in her wake. She is untouchable! She is free.
And then she stumbles, for she has arrived. A great oak rises from the ground, its bark black and slick. Its roots are twisted and gnarled, and dig straight down into the earth. It looks dead, and it is hollowed out. But that is not the worst thing she notices about the tree.
The tree?
It is humming at her.
Why is the tree humming at her?
She stands there for a moment, recounting her options. She could flee, flee this unknown and never come back again, and she should. But the hum that rumbles in her thin bones and rattles her skull feels familiar, somehow, just like everything in this forest seems familiar. She is afraid to strain her ears, to listen in more intently, but somehow she gathers the strength to stay put. Finally, she recognizes the touch of the Gods.
She is frozen. She thinks furiously.
Are the Gods reliable? Quite, if unfathomable. Would they act malevolently? Doubtful, but possible.
The problem with the hum, she concludes after another moment, her mind shrinking away from doubting the undoubtful, is that is perfectly and wholly neutral. It does not care in the least who or what takes shelter in it. It just observes. Nay, it just is. And that is scary.
She shakes her head to clear it. Other deer don’t seem to mind. Two are sleeping within the monstrosity right now. But still, still she is unsure. Over the span of her short life she has learned to trust her heart, and now it is pounding, pounding at the walls of her chest. She is quite certain it wants out, and will get out if she doesn’t do something about it first.
She makes a small step backwards and the feathers rustle, agitated. She ignores them, turns around and follows through with her resolution, leaping away and shivering with relief. The feathers are insane to want to explore here. (As if they hear her thoughts, they flop apologetically.) But she forgives them.
25.12.2014.
The darkness continues, a long, long night. Candles sprouted like mushrooms in the rain, ghostly lights dancing on their tops. Sometimes they shimmer close to the ground, sometimes they sit in the branches of the tallest trees. The snow keeps falling, blurring her vision, and yet they twinkle on.
The lights might perch like birds, but they are not birds. The small creatures are nowhere to be seen, instead, the air is festooned with swooping flocks of bats. She wonders if the birds have been eaten and a frown mars her face. It is an unpleasant thought, but certainly a plausible one. Intrigued, she listens about for a while and decides to launch an investigation.
After wandering around the forest for a long, long time, she has to admit defeat. The only clues she has are the appearance of the ghostly candles, a heavy blizzard and an increase in the local bat population. She was looking at some feathers they lost when another deer came along. They were big, adult, and apparently in a rush.
She was cold, and rubbing against a tree in the wind did not seem like a good idea. But the adult was already moving, dancing and bowing in a curious gesture.
And then there was light, and Light, and the feeling of being embraced by the Gods again. A warm rush of air ruffled her fur and made her gasp with surprise. Her legs came alive with pins and needles in the snow, blood rushing back to her ears like a tide, just in time to hear the other deer galloping. Her eyes water, blurring the world around her, and she contemplates escape. Instead, her newly revived knees buckle and she is suddenly staring at the feathers, lying unstirred in the same heap as before.
And then they arise, like snowflakes returning home, up and above her, where she twists her neck and head but fails to glimpse them. They seem to play with her, staying just out of reach. She sneezes, and the feathers rustle. They stay aloft as she gallops to the pond, half-curious, half-running away. They seem to twirl in merriment around her reflection when she peers into the water, her face the same, the air above it now occupied by a halo.
24.12.2014.
It is dark under the trees today. The snow falls, and sometimes there is wind. It hurls itself at her, flatening her ears and making her eyes squint. Her nose twitches and her legs spread, cloven hooves digging into the ground for fear of being blown away. Soon they stop, and soon she figures the trick of running downwind. It is well, until her body outruns her feet and she stumbles headlong into a tree. Fearing impact, she huddles, but there is a sound like a harp broke in twain and a feeling of disappearing, of scattering away. She fears the tingle at first, but grows out of the greater part of it relatively soon. It is not wholly unpleasant, and she resolves not to be frightened by a sound.
Still, it would not do to provoke it.
In a sun-warmed dip in the ground by the pond she encountered another fawn(Mis). Small, like her, with a dark mask covering its face. They run in circles, chasing and jumping over each other. They dance, also in circles, sometimes together and sometimes without harmony. They bleat, but no sound escapes, only shimmering spheres. Colours chase each other across its iridescent surface like the fawns did, and they spend a good while blowing them in unison, in silence.
23.12.2014.
Awoke at the Gods' feet, like a gift left by a secretive stranger, or an orphan. All she knows are the Gods, the forest and her true name. Trusting the first not to dissapoint the bearer of third, she ventures into the second. There is sunlight and snow, and running mad with life and joy. Would it truly be bad, to lose a mind like this? To let it fly above the creek like a white-winged bird some deer have painted on their sides? She knows not, and ceases to think of it soon. Her mind grows occupied with the sky glimpsed through the trees, other deer glimpsed through those. When she sleeps, happy and exhausted, it is in a bed of fragrant flowers, a birch behind her and grass tickling her nose.
