(( Yup, I'm finally actually continuing this story that I almost started over a year ago. And...I start it with another prologue that requires you reading through at least two ancient stories. I'm apparently evil like that.))

This prologue occurs somewhere between the climax and the end of This Story. It is reccomended reading for this entire serial.

The Near Prologue


It was a space between moments – a leaf hung mid-fall, a bird’s wings went still and yet it remained trapped in the air like an insect surrounded by amber. The only things still showing signs of life were the tree and the gods. Then the still world faded to black.
The tree that grew among the purple flowers looked out over the abyss before him; it was full of what looked like little suns, hanging in the blackness. Was the world of deer so different from the world it had always seen? The tree looked towards the Twin Gods.
“Before you are rewarded, you must pass one final test –“ the Red God said. The Gold One added, “the simplest and the hardest of all.”
The tree’s leaves quivered, the rustling for a moment filling the silent world. Neither the trees nor the Twin Gods breathed. “I’m ready,” it said.
“This realm is the testing ground,” said the Gold God, who was standing now where the Red one had been. They hadn’t moved an inch. “It is a place between things – between times, and places, and states of selves. What it looks like changes depending on where you’ve come from, and where you’re going.”
“…So the suns?” The tree said.
“They’re not suns, little one,” the Red God said. “They’re names. We’ll grant you your wish when you find yours.”
“But I don’t have a name. No one’s ever given me one.” The tree stared out among the rows and rows of glowing names that surrounded it on all sides.

School ended this afternoon, leaving me once again gloriously free. I have an online course I'm taking this summer, but in the meanwhile... WOOO!

So, what'd I miss?

Yeah. This is going to be kicking my rear hardcore. So...I may not be around. If you want me to clear my schedule, or send me a message, or RP with me, or chat, I can be found at my MSN:


See you when I have time!

We stand on grey rocks, clad in grey fog. We call. We form ribbons of dance and circles of leaping bodies. We send drifting clouds of mist into the air on our outstretched voices. We are particles around the rocks and waves on top of them, trying to form a beacon of our name-lights. We call out with love in the edges of our voices. We call him with the swaying of our bodies, the beating of our hooves. We call him with bright strands of eerie, backwards music. We call him in a great cluster of friends and acquaintences, his family and his lover. We call him because we must; We call him because it is right; We call him because we want to see our giant back. We gather together, lift our heads to the sky, and call him. We call to see him home.


((Yeah, it's totally premature, but it came to me so here it is. I'll add more if there's more to add.))

I write this in the hope that he will come back and see it soon. I'm not sure if it's better or worse than the first I wrote, though I may well mean it more. Iaurdagnire is a good muse, though.



((This is a Seed's Poetry corner response to Dag's story Spring II. Thunderclap. If you want to read more of Seed's poetry, the index (including the link to the poem he mentioned at the top) is here.. ))

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The fog is wonderful and horrible. The fog is evewhere, thick and white. It supplants the air we breathe -- we take in great breaths of mist, our lungs filling with half-formed water. We hear the howling of invisible beasts, foriegn things hanging around the edge of the forest, unable to enter, but unwilling to leave. They shake us in our bones, when we fear something, they become that fear.
But the fog drives us close to one another, blinds us to old grudges, when the light of our pictograms is so bright against the fog as to be meaningless. It is a great cloud, and it makes the world unknown -- it makes it marvelous and strange, something dying like the blackened poppy blossoms, but alive again, hidden in the mist.

I awoke and found Sluggs and two others resting in the fog -- Sluggs alone I recognized by set. And, of course, by the fact that after a minute, he began his usual tricks. He hid himself in the earth, growing and dwindling when he arose to be seen. When he appeared, he'd be angled like he was about to shoot up in the air. Mostly, though, it was only the thin light of his pictogram, bursting forth from the earth like a seedling. We played around. Some tried to sit over the spot, while I tried to duck my head beneath the surface of the ground to see his face, to see the Sluggs I remember from when I was small, winking at me. I almost succeeded. Almost. After he went, I ran off to sleep, hidden in fog and willow branches.

Later, I awoke and found Nevilly in the gof, huddled beneath a tree. She was shivering like a baby bird, jumping at the sound of the wolf-calls. She offered me a nervous smile as I approached, and rushed to my side. I could feel the shaking of her body when she stood next to me. She was so happy to see me, confident that I could find some way to make her feel safe -- and, to my surprise, I did. She makes me feel better than I am -- somehow gentler and stronger all at once, wiser and more noble, so much more pure.

Now, before I begin, I want to put forth a disclaimer: this only really applies to in-game stuff and its influence on out-of-game feelings and community drama. Community drama on its own is a different field entirely. Second: This is just how I do things. If you handle things differently, and it works for you, that's absolutely fabulous. In fact, feel free to put forth your own tips and strategies into your replies. This is just what I think may be worth trying if you find that you're being made unhappy by in-game events and do not like it. It may not work for you, but if you're really unhappy, you need to try changing something, and you are always the thing you have the most control over. I'm not attacking anyone in particular, I'm not out to cause more drama, I'm not thinking you're silly or wrong if you don't do these things. I just want to help people not feel the need to make the fusses we sometimes make over what amounts to a series of interlapping stories and a pile of pixels.

Also, I'm posting this in a time of relative calm as a preventitive measure. To my knowledge, there's nothing going on right now.

These are in no particular order.

#1: Recognize the patterns. Stuff happens all the time. Most of it is the same stuff, over and over again, because people are creatures of habit. What this means is, you can look back on familiar patterns and see what works and what doesn't, and how most things play out. Most dramas like this last between 1 to 5 days, max.

#2: Capitalize on IC drama ICly. Drama makes for fun stories. There's no need to run away from that fact just because you weren't planning on it. Try to find a way to make this unpleasant thing fun for you: for example, when Seed's unhappy, I make him roll out these big, flowery monologues (which I just freaking adore).

[=#006400]
There are moments I want to dance with, all on their own, holding them tight as the whirl around in my memory. These are the days I want to have stretch out before me, filling tomorrow and all the days there'll ever be up to the brim. I know that days like this aren't every day -- but a stag can dream. Of days as the seasons turn, the worries of coming days still hanging on the horizons, when everything is peaceful and calm. Days when everyone is laughing. They have to have their best pieces savored, pressed close to the heart like a flower in a book, so that in years gone by they can be held up to the light and the veins can be seen, the scent fleetingly recalled.

Nevilly, Virgil and I, running deep into the birch woods, circling around ourselves -- We've forgotten all our purpose. We had been teasing one another, and the forest echoed with our laughter as we ran -- was I chasing Virgil, or was I chasing Nevilly, delighting in the sight of the two of them ahead of me? I can't say, I couldn't say. The forest whirls around us and changes texture as we go, from soft moss to hard clay, and Virgil is a streak before me, shifting color from tan to gold, gold to red, like a sunset. I'm chasing them, but I'm also just delighting in the utter freedom of that running, my head thrown back, taking a few strides beside that beautiful doe with the bright blue eyes before one of us turned away, laughing so hard my whole ribcage ached like my hurt was about to burst out.

And later: Nevilly and I have pinned poor Virgil into hiding in the great rock at the ruins. We’ve scented him out, and now I’ve caught them both. Nevilly gives me a mischievous smirk, and we sit directly above him. We sicken him, the two of us – Because as we sit, I’m running my lips on the edges of her ears, nuzzling her between words, and I’m going all out, calling her sweet and sappy names, like a fool.

[=#006400] Today was alarmingly warm -- and I noticed, for the first time in a year, the return of that most precious shade of green. It's so tender, soft as the breathy exhalations of the air, vibrant as the rush of blood poundng in my heart, forcing the growth in the branches of trees and antlers alike. It is the herald of spring, this green.

Speaking of green, I spent the morning with a charming young fawn. We've been seeing each other for the past few days, but I have no clue as to who he or she is: just that he or she appreciates the company I give, and that I feel likewise. As we ran through the forest, we encountered Virgil, who nuzzled, made some gesture I couldn't quite tell, nodded, and fled. I didn't catch that middle gesture -- was it a no, a yes? I thought I saw a taunt in there, but I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if he wanted me to follow or to stay where I was. I followed because my young companion did, for a while, until we settled on the rocks. There, I went to sleep.

I awoke to notice Dag, who had himself recently been noticing the return of Spring -- I heard he had been distant, wanting to meet his challenge alone. I knew I had to go and see him, then: A friend should never let a friend bare a burden alone, even if that is what he would have wished. Fortunately, Dag seemed in good spirits -- perhaps because he was with Oseaan. We danced and skipped among the flowers that welled up around our legs like water escaping a spring... Though I saw a little unease in him, too. He'd fidget, stop and listen, and sit for a while, still as if he were holding his breath. Or maybe I'm imagining. After a time, we were joined in a dance line by some strangers, one of whom had misplaced his pictogram. Then the dance line became a sitting line, with some of our members standing to listen. I sometimes stood and sometimes sat, until Dag curled up to sleep. Then we broke, for greeting other deer, frolicking, and re-organizing ourselves.

[=#006400]
I sit in this patch of flowers I found in that time, the butterflies clinging to my sides, examining their reflections in my eyes. I had a neighbor, sitting in a nearby patch of flowers. Sometimes, I'd glance at him. He got up and listened as I did, searching for something familiar, something that wasn't there. I'm not even sure what I was thinking about -- the falling of a leaf, the motions of my neighbor -- but my heart kept moving towards the great mass of deer that I'm missing, and they're so close. I wonder if they think about me in simmilar terms, wondering if I miss them -- or if I'm just thinking one-sidedly, feeling the distance less as emotional distance as mischance, as a series of little holes in the pattern of my days.

After a while, I was joined by Ravyn. She'd come close and dart away, sit with me and then join friends. I followed her, once, to one of the smaller groups she dashed to, but after a little she returned and waited for me at the flower patch. I think she knew I was feeling kind of lonely, but didn't understand that I didn't mind it -- much. I'm sorry if I concerned her, actually: she seemed very concerned. But... I'm glad she did.

I collapsed for a bit, and awoke, and accidentally fell into the river before returning to the flower patch. I seemed to have a hard time staying concious, though, because I again found my vision darkening, and then clearing where I stood on the riverbank, not far from my home. I returned there, and found a Saosin-fawn. I couldn't help but laugh, which I think hurt his pride. He ran off, heading who knows where. I seem to have very little luck being on friendly terms with him. I wouldn't say I dislike him, though -- but he's shown some distaste for me, I think for reasons that were more relational than personal, in the past. He's not hostile more often than he is, so I can't think ill of him. But when he dashed off, I was not surprised. Ravyn settled back in with me.