Estrella Andiyar - Solo
Found this... it's pretty old - three or four months, mebbe - but I thought I'd plop it in here.
It was a beautiful midsummer night, the sky cloudless, each star, from the faintest to the brightest, showing their glory in the black expanse, a dark space only where the new moon rested on the horizon. Estrella sat atop the highest peak of the cliffs, the cool sea air sweeping over her, around her, blowing her fiery hair out behind her tall, lithe form. Her sharp green eyes spotted the gulls drifting the jet streams over the seas. She watched those waters - the pull of the waves, the gradually increasing tide - all effects of the moon that moved around them, an intricate dance in which all were affected. Quietly, she sat, not truly thinking of anything… not yet, at least. Sighing, she closed her eyes, a shiver running down her spine as she slowly and carefully blocked off all senses - first sight. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs faded away; next went the salty smell that drifted on the breeze. She clamped her mouth shut, lips pressed tight, the taste of the salt of the sea and the sweet grasses fading away. Lastly, she forced herself to stop feeling; the chill of the wind died away, and she floated in an abyss of her own creation, her thoughts floating into blackness as she focused on one goal. To search.
She inhaled deeply, letting the breath out slowly, preparing herself, before she pictured her spirit moving away from her body, floating on the sea breeze, sweeping under, over, around the gulls that flocked on the cliffs. She looked at her body, slumped forward on the Cliffs of Moher, the wind flipping her hair into her face. Estrella's spirit smiled inwardly. Her face would sting horribly when she got back. She turned her spirit towards North America, shaking her head slightly. They never learn. Always there is war… always they fight each other. Mostly it is humans… If she could sigh at the moment, she would. Instead, she turned away, back toward Ireland, and swept past her body, flying away from the Shannon, away from Ireland. She did not know where she was going yet, only that she wanted to fly, to be free from the constrictions of her body and soar like she'd seen the eagles do thousands of times. She slowed as she felt the pain of some tiny creature far below her. Dropping steadily, her spirit settled to the ground in a crouch, a hand outstretched to the fox kit that had gotten trapped in a small hole in the ground. Crooning gently, Esta whispered words of encouragement to the kit, though her mind sought out its mother. The kit would not survive the night if left alone. It had a pulled muscle - she sensed that easily enough. She continued to croon to it, the voice of her spirit flowing through the kit's body, feeding its spirit, calming it down. You will survive, little one. I'll not let you die.
After several long minutes, the kit's mother came rushing up, her fur bristling as she sensed Esta, but smoothing out again when the young woman whispered quiet words of peace. Tired now, she released herself to the pull of her body, shuddering at the collision. She blinked, her eyes opening, hands flying to her cheeks. She'd been right - her face stung. Calmly, she stood, her chain mail singing softly with her movements, the long sword she carried thumping against her leg as she wobbled slightly, though she gained her balance. Fatigue overcame her, then, and she picked her way down the sharp crags of the cliff, her moccasins making no noise on the stones as she jumped nimbly from one outcropping to the next. As she made her way to the den she called home, a fox kit ran out of it, running toward her and leaping at her, allowing her to catch it in her arms. Smiling, she nuzzled the kit before setting it down and letting it go back to its mother. She felt a kinship to these sly creatures - and she had every reason to. Estrella Andiyar, once of County Kildare of Ireland, was a Were, a woman who could shift into the form of a fox any moment she wished, though it was terribly draining on her. Silently, she entered the den, moving to her place in the back of the cave and settling down. She sat for a few moments, thinking, before she curled up, feeling the sudden press of warm bodies against her. A smile flickered briefly across her face before she fell into a deep sleep, comforted by the dream-speak of her fox family. No harm would come to her. And so she slept, peacefully, happy that she had found a place where she was accepted for who she was - a Were.
She awoke several hours later as a chill wind swept into the den. She was instantly alert, gently pushing aside the fox family, whispering softly lest she wake them. Something was not right. She could feel, smell, even see a subtle difference in the space around her. Carefully she stood, padding softly towards the entrance, her nostrils flaring, lips pulled into a frown. She saw movement to her left - too large to be one of the foxes - and carefully she unsheathed a long hunting knife, its blade serrated to fit her special needs. The wicked blade flashed in the starlight - a purposeful movement - and caught the attention of the large shape. It approached slowly, step by step, until she could clearly see the human man, a longbow in his hands, arrow notched and ready to be let loose. Her lips curled in disgust, a low growl forming in her throat, though she quelled it. Instead she said simply, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
The man tensed at her tone at first, but slowly he relaxed, lowering the bow. "I am a hunter, come to hunt foxes on the cliffs." Esta could see him watching her with contempt, anger barely in check behind his eyes. He shifted impatiently, as if ready to be on his way.
At this, Estrella raised her knife, edge outward, pointed toward his throat. "It is folly to hunt the lone foxes of these cliffs. There is only one den, and they are protected by nature, nature's magic, and me." She grated out the sentence, her anger rising, boiling just beneath the surface of her emotions. Ruthlessly, she quelled the urge to slit his throat and be done with him. "Now, I suggest you either tell me your real name and give me your word that you'll not come here a-hunting again, nor send any others to do it for you, or I'll kill you now and save my friends the trauma of seeing you close in on them." She watched with pleasure as he swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"And…why should I take orders from you, woman?" Though he still gulped, as if frightened, he continued on, thinking she would not harm him. "After all, you are but a woman, and a slight one at that. How could you possibly stop me?"
Esta smiled, then, baring her teeth. "You would do wise to obey me, human, for I am a Were, and I could just as easily rip your throat out as I could slit it. Not only am I a Were, but I am also connected to the very world. The magic of nature flows in my veins as smoothly as blood pushes through yours, if not more so. Now, I say again, tell me your name, and give me your word." She narrowed her eyes at him, the emerald green darkening until they were almost black, a barely-controlled fury flashing in their depths.
"I am Craven Kelleher, and I give my word to you, my lady, though I know not your name, that I will not harm the foxes of the Cliffs of Moher, nor will I send any others to hunt them in my place." He spoke steadily, and Esta could hear the truth behind his words. His eyes locked on her own, and she noticed their odd coloring - brown, almost golden, like caramel, but not quite.
"Good. Now, put your arrow back in its quiver." He complied, and she watched warily, glimpsing the hunting knife that was tucked into his belt. Satisfied that he would not reach for it, she motioned for him to sit, well away from the entry to the den, and she settled herself in front of it, the chain mail skirt singing softly as it brushed the rocks. "I am Estrella Andiyar, though most call me Esta. I do believe I have seen you in one of the towns before, when I visited to get fresh fruits from the market. It's quite amazing that I can afford it, truly, but I heal the creatures of the earth, so I am welcome almost anywhere. You, however, are not welcome here again, Craven Kelleher. Understand that now. Outside of these cliffs, you can walk freely and unharmed. Step even a toe on one single pebble, and I will rip your throat out with my bare hands. Any others that come here wishing to hunt my family will find that the same fate awaits them. I suggest you spread the word. The foxes of the Cliffs of Moher are protected. Tell it however you wish, but make it so."
She watched Craven for any sign of resistance, her hand curling around the hilt of her knife. In the starlight, she studied him, noting his appearances - brown woven cotton trousers and tunic, belted at the waist with a plain brown leather strap, good hunting boots, also made of softened brown leather. She flicked her gaze over him quickly; he had longish, dark hair, curling at the nape of the neck, a good, tanned complexion - doubtless from the hours he would have spent in the sun - well-developed muscles, and even sitting she could tell he was tall and slender. Definitely a hunter, this one. Too bad he'd chosen the wrong creature to hunt.
"I give you my word, Estrella Andiyar… Esta… that I will tell all those in my town, and see that it spreads to others, that you are the protector of the foxes. And though I wish you would not put so harsh a stipulation on the wanderings of myself and my colleagues, though I do understand why. It shall be done." Standing, the hunter offered her a slight bow, which she ignored, keeping her eyes focused in front of her, staring out to the sea beyond. When Craven had finally gone, she rose and walked back into the den, resuming her place and her sleep. It had been a long night, and she needed the rest that finally washed over her, covering her mind with its comfort.
It was a beautiful midsummer night, the sky cloudless, each star, from the faintest to the brightest, showing their glory in the black expanse, a dark space only where the new moon rested on the horizon. Estrella sat atop the highest peak of the cliffs, the cool sea air sweeping over her, around her, blowing her fiery hair out behind her tall, lithe form. Her sharp green eyes spotted the gulls drifting the jet streams over the seas. She watched those waters - the pull of the waves, the gradually increasing tide - all effects of the moon that moved around them, an intricate dance in which all were affected. Quietly, she sat, not truly thinking of anything… not yet, at least. Sighing, she closed her eyes, a shiver running down her spine as she slowly and carefully blocked off all senses - first sight. The sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs faded away; next went the salty smell that drifted on the breeze. She clamped her mouth shut, lips pressed tight, the taste of the salt of the sea and the sweet grasses fading away. Lastly, she forced herself to stop feeling; the chill of the wind died away, and she floated in an abyss of her own creation, her thoughts floating into blackness as she focused on one goal. To search.
She inhaled deeply, letting the breath out slowly, preparing herself, before she pictured her spirit moving away from her body, floating on the sea breeze, sweeping under, over, around the gulls that flocked on the cliffs. She looked at her body, slumped forward on the Cliffs of Moher, the wind flipping her hair into her face. Estrella's spirit smiled inwardly. Her face would sting horribly when she got back. She turned her spirit towards North America, shaking her head slightly. They never learn. Always there is war… always they fight each other. Mostly it is humans… If she could sigh at the moment, she would. Instead, she turned away, back toward Ireland, and swept past her body, flying away from the Shannon, away from Ireland. She did not know where she was going yet, only that she wanted to fly, to be free from the constrictions of her body and soar like she'd seen the eagles do thousands of times. She slowed as she felt the pain of some tiny creature far below her. Dropping steadily, her spirit settled to the ground in a crouch, a hand outstretched to the fox kit that had gotten trapped in a small hole in the ground. Crooning gently, Esta whispered words of encouragement to the kit, though her mind sought out its mother. The kit would not survive the night if left alone. It had a pulled muscle - she sensed that easily enough. She continued to croon to it, the voice of her spirit flowing through the kit's body, feeding its spirit, calming it down. You will survive, little one. I'll not let you die.
After several long minutes, the kit's mother came rushing up, her fur bristling as she sensed Esta, but smoothing out again when the young woman whispered quiet words of peace. Tired now, she released herself to the pull of her body, shuddering at the collision. She blinked, her eyes opening, hands flying to her cheeks. She'd been right - her face stung. Calmly, she stood, her chain mail singing softly with her movements, the long sword she carried thumping against her leg as she wobbled slightly, though she gained her balance. Fatigue overcame her, then, and she picked her way down the sharp crags of the cliff, her moccasins making no noise on the stones as she jumped nimbly from one outcropping to the next. As she made her way to the den she called home, a fox kit ran out of it, running toward her and leaping at her, allowing her to catch it in her arms. Smiling, she nuzzled the kit before setting it down and letting it go back to its mother. She felt a kinship to these sly creatures - and she had every reason to. Estrella Andiyar, once of County Kildare of Ireland, was a Were, a woman who could shift into the form of a fox any moment she wished, though it was terribly draining on her. Silently, she entered the den, moving to her place in the back of the cave and settling down. She sat for a few moments, thinking, before she curled up, feeling the sudden press of warm bodies against her. A smile flickered briefly across her face before she fell into a deep sleep, comforted by the dream-speak of her fox family. No harm would come to her. And so she slept, peacefully, happy that she had found a place where she was accepted for who she was - a Were.
She awoke several hours later as a chill wind swept into the den. She was instantly alert, gently pushing aside the fox family, whispering softly lest she wake them. Something was not right. She could feel, smell, even see a subtle difference in the space around her. Carefully she stood, padding softly towards the entrance, her nostrils flaring, lips pulled into a frown. She saw movement to her left - too large to be one of the foxes - and carefully she unsheathed a long hunting knife, its blade serrated to fit her special needs. The wicked blade flashed in the starlight - a purposeful movement - and caught the attention of the large shape. It approached slowly, step by step, until she could clearly see the human man, a longbow in his hands, arrow notched and ready to be let loose. Her lips curled in disgust, a low growl forming in her throat, though she quelled it. Instead she said simply, "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
The man tensed at her tone at first, but slowly he relaxed, lowering the bow. "I am a hunter, come to hunt foxes on the cliffs." Esta could see him watching her with contempt, anger barely in check behind his eyes. He shifted impatiently, as if ready to be on his way.
At this, Estrella raised her knife, edge outward, pointed toward his throat. "It is folly to hunt the lone foxes of these cliffs. There is only one den, and they are protected by nature, nature's magic, and me." She grated out the sentence, her anger rising, boiling just beneath the surface of her emotions. Ruthlessly, she quelled the urge to slit his throat and be done with him. "Now, I suggest you either tell me your real name and give me your word that you'll not come here a-hunting again, nor send any others to do it for you, or I'll kill you now and save my friends the trauma of seeing you close in on them." She watched with pleasure as he swallowed nervously, his Adam's apple bobbing.
"And…why should I take orders from you, woman?" Though he still gulped, as if frightened, he continued on, thinking she would not harm him. "After all, you are but a woman, and a slight one at that. How could you possibly stop me?"
Esta smiled, then, baring her teeth. "You would do wise to obey me, human, for I am a Were, and I could just as easily rip your throat out as I could slit it. Not only am I a Were, but I am also connected to the very world. The magic of nature flows in my veins as smoothly as blood pushes through yours, if not more so. Now, I say again, tell me your name, and give me your word." She narrowed her eyes at him, the emerald green darkening until they were almost black, a barely-controlled fury flashing in their depths.
"I am Craven Kelleher, and I give my word to you, my lady, though I know not your name, that I will not harm the foxes of the Cliffs of Moher, nor will I send any others to hunt them in my place." He spoke steadily, and Esta could hear the truth behind his words. His eyes locked on her own, and she noticed their odd coloring - brown, almost golden, like caramel, but not quite.
"Good. Now, put your arrow back in its quiver." He complied, and she watched warily, glimpsing the hunting knife that was tucked into his belt. Satisfied that he would not reach for it, she motioned for him to sit, well away from the entry to the den, and she settled herself in front of it, the chain mail skirt singing softly as it brushed the rocks. "I am Estrella Andiyar, though most call me Esta. I do believe I have seen you in one of the towns before, when I visited to get fresh fruits from the market. It's quite amazing that I can afford it, truly, but I heal the creatures of the earth, so I am welcome almost anywhere. You, however, are not welcome here again, Craven Kelleher. Understand that now. Outside of these cliffs, you can walk freely and unharmed. Step even a toe on one single pebble, and I will rip your throat out with my bare hands. Any others that come here wishing to hunt my family will find that the same fate awaits them. I suggest you spread the word. The foxes of the Cliffs of Moher are protected. Tell it however you wish, but make it so."
She watched Craven for any sign of resistance, her hand curling around the hilt of her knife. In the starlight, she studied him, noting his appearances - brown woven cotton trousers and tunic, belted at the waist with a plain brown leather strap, good hunting boots, also made of softened brown leather. She flicked her gaze over him quickly; he had longish, dark hair, curling at the nape of the neck, a good, tanned complexion - doubtless from the hours he would have spent in the sun - well-developed muscles, and even sitting she could tell he was tall and slender. Definitely a hunter, this one. Too bad he'd chosen the wrong creature to hunt.
"I give you my word, Estrella Andiyar… Esta… that I will tell all those in my town, and see that it spreads to others, that you are the protector of the foxes. And though I wish you would not put so harsh a stipulation on the wanderings of myself and my colleagues, though I do understand why. It shall be done." Standing, the hunter offered her a slight bow, which she ignored, keeping her eyes focused in front of her, staring out to the sea beyond. When Craven had finally gone, she rose and walked back into the den, resuming her place and her sleep. It had been a long night, and she needed the rest that finally washed over her, covering her mind with its comfort.