Noonday Sun -- Miss_Sanguine
The spirit was tired of the Spirit World, where things had no beginning and had no end. It was tired of gliding through realms of shadow and light infinitely with no real reason to except that it could. The spirit had always just been and now wanted more. It wanted to experience change, to witness life and death, to feel balance and chaos. It wanted to live instead of just be.
The form it chose was a simple one, with eyes to see, ears to hear, wings to fly. Its stark-white plumage gleamed like the sun on water at noonday. As it passed into the mortal world it felt mortality for the first time and shivered, beak pointing to the sky. When the sense of individuality set in, the spirit found itself as female, as if she had always been and could be nothing else.
She could feel time brush against her feathers, whisper death in her ears and sing life to her heart. The whole world pulsed around her, every organism in-sync with the other and yet completely unaware.
She opened her wings and fondled the air, allowed her new egret instincts to get her airborne. She flew over the world and relished its beauty and hidden rhythm.
Over time, the spirit began to become familiar with certain emotions: joy in seeing the sun rise each day, excitement for new discoveries, curiosity for what the world had to show her, elation at the feel of the wind through her feathers as she flew. She adored life and its austere pleasures and was finally aware of herself and who she wanted to be.
One day the wandering spirit found herself being tugged to the east by an alluring presence. It called to her like a familiar song, a song of hope and steadiness, and she followed it inquisitively. The journey took three days and three nights, but she did not rest, for the light she was following gave her strength. When she arrived at the spot that called to her, a forest of tall oaks and little brambles, she found a man.
He was broad and brown, built from the earth and brought up by it. She had never seen him before, and yet the sense of familiarity was still there. It was a deep sense that spanned eons, even time and space, and if she gazed at him hard enough she thought she could see the whole world in his eyes. He took no notice of her as she watched him from the reeds of the river, only went about working the water with his hands, moving its energies with his own.
These energies drew her closer to him, and he noticed her when she was just a few wing lengths away. His words were strange to her, unlike the calls of birds or the croakings of toads in the night, more distorted than even the human machinery she had witnessed at times. She cocked her head at him and blinked, warbled to him the best way she knew how, but just as she could not understand him, he could not understand her.
There was a smile given, nonetheless, and then the man went back to his task. When he tired of the water, he moved to the air, then to fire and earth. Each beckoned to him as readily as she had. She was entranced by his movements and stood watching him for hours. He took to playing games with her and the water, gently splashing her and laughing when she shook her feathers dry. She liked his laugh as it floated on the air, bringing her a warmth she’d never felt before. It reminded her of the sun rising, just as his smile was the moon’s glow.
She took to following him as he traveled and he didn’t seem to mind. There were nights when he would talk to her, and though she could not understand him, he appeared to take solace in her rapt attention. His voice carried her to faraway places, like a gentle breeze beneath her beating wings. This man was unique, kind and always on the edge of her memories from long ago. Over time, she grew to love him even more than the life she had found for herself beyond the Spirit World.
One particular day when the sky was clear and the leaves of the trees a vibrant green, as the man was preparing his noonday campfire, she went foraging for food among the bushes down by the river. She was not worried of losing him; for she always knew where he was by the light his spirit gave. The forest was quiet, the animals scarce. She felt an unnerving sense of wrong but shook it off as she hurried to eat so she could rejoin the man.
The attack was swift and severe. She had no time to cry out before she fell to mud. Something was in lodged in her back and she felt her life force draining out from the opening it had created, pooling around her body and staining into her feathers. A man approached her from his hiding place in the bushes, a bow in hand, but it was not her man. She watched through fading vision and jarring pain as he slung his weapon over his shoulder and pulled a small blade from his belt. Her life was over and her existence no more, though she regretted nothing that she had done.
The man for whom the spirit had fallen came looking for his lost companion hours later. He found nothing of her, but by the riverbank there was a stark-white flower that gleamed like the sun on the water at noonday.
The form it chose was a simple one, with eyes to see, ears to hear, wings to fly. Its stark-white plumage gleamed like the sun on water at noonday. As it passed into the mortal world it felt mortality for the first time and shivered, beak pointing to the sky. When the sense of individuality set in, the spirit found itself as female, as if she had always been and could be nothing else.
She could feel time brush against her feathers, whisper death in her ears and sing life to her heart. The whole world pulsed around her, every organism in-sync with the other and yet completely unaware.
She opened her wings and fondled the air, allowed her new egret instincts to get her airborne. She flew over the world and relished its beauty and hidden rhythm.
Over time, the spirit began to become familiar with certain emotions: joy in seeing the sun rise each day, excitement for new discoveries, curiosity for what the world had to show her, elation at the feel of the wind through her feathers as she flew. She adored life and its austere pleasures and was finally aware of herself and who she wanted to be.
One day the wandering spirit found herself being tugged to the east by an alluring presence. It called to her like a familiar song, a song of hope and steadiness, and she followed it inquisitively. The journey took three days and three nights, but she did not rest, for the light she was following gave her strength. When she arrived at the spot that called to her, a forest of tall oaks and little brambles, she found a man.
He was broad and brown, built from the earth and brought up by it. She had never seen him before, and yet the sense of familiarity was still there. It was a deep sense that spanned eons, even time and space, and if she gazed at him hard enough she thought she could see the whole world in his eyes. He took no notice of her as she watched him from the reeds of the river, only went about working the water with his hands, moving its energies with his own.
These energies drew her closer to him, and he noticed her when she was just a few wing lengths away. His words were strange to her, unlike the calls of birds or the croakings of toads in the night, more distorted than even the human machinery she had witnessed at times. She cocked her head at him and blinked, warbled to him the best way she knew how, but just as she could not understand him, he could not understand her.
There was a smile given, nonetheless, and then the man went back to his task. When he tired of the water, he moved to the air, then to fire and earth. Each beckoned to him as readily as she had. She was entranced by his movements and stood watching him for hours. He took to playing games with her and the water, gently splashing her and laughing when she shook her feathers dry. She liked his laugh as it floated on the air, bringing her a warmth she’d never felt before. It reminded her of the sun rising, just as his smile was the moon’s glow.
She took to following him as he traveled and he didn’t seem to mind. There were nights when he would talk to her, and though she could not understand him, he appeared to take solace in her rapt attention. His voice carried her to faraway places, like a gentle breeze beneath her beating wings. This man was unique, kind and always on the edge of her memories from long ago. Over time, she grew to love him even more than the life she had found for herself beyond the Spirit World.
One particular day when the sky was clear and the leaves of the trees a vibrant green, as the man was preparing his noonday campfire, she went foraging for food among the bushes down by the river. She was not worried of losing him; for she always knew where he was by the light his spirit gave. The forest was quiet, the animals scarce. She felt an unnerving sense of wrong but shook it off as she hurried to eat so she could rejoin the man.
The attack was swift and severe. She had no time to cry out before she fell to mud. Something was in lodged in her back and she felt her life force draining out from the opening it had created, pooling around her body and staining into her feathers. A man approached her from his hiding place in the bushes, a bow in hand, but it was not her man. She watched through fading vision and jarring pain as he slung his weapon over his shoulder and pulled a small blade from his belt. Her life was over and her existence no more, though she regretted nothing that she had done.
The man for whom the spirit had fallen came looking for his lost companion hours later. He found nothing of her, but by the riverbank there was a stark-white flower that gleamed like the sun on the water at noonday.