{all the living are dead, and the dead are all living}
There is a place called Beyond.
It was open and warm and bright and welcoming; full of somethings and maybes and could bes that Kira could only see and feel in that in between place. That moment between waking and sleeping, when all she had was her fingers moving in and out of the fabric.
There was her village, wild and reckless and needing her. It needed her to create the future for it, to unchain the Singer, to make the world anew, just like the plants striving for life in her garden, as she pressed her hands against the earth, weaving them amongst the grass, hearing the yelps of the tykes in the breaking dawn.
It tired her, moving and dragging, moving and dragging, but it was alive under her fingers, growing and striving and Kira did it because that was what she, the Threader, the dying artists had to do. The blue had to grow, the woad was growing for them, and with it, she was teaching people, bringing hope.
Things were changing, people were changing. It was all in the hope of the blue and there was growth there.
She was tired though, and had to rest. Small steps were better than no steps at all.
Carefully, she rose to her feet, dragging her leg along until she reached the bench resting against her cott, picking up her embroidery frame, and resting her stick as well. She ran her fingers along the stitches, the places that Had Been, the Ruin and what was Now. Picking up a carefully threaded needle, she closed her eyes and began, moving as if in a dream, in and out, in and out.
There is a place called Beyond and it is beautiful, like a dream, and as her fingers move, taking her there, drifting her across the spans of it, she can see forever, create forever. In and out, in and out, patterns of it, and she relaxed as if in sleep, dreaming the future in her fingers.
A tree rested against her back, the bark of it jutting through her sweater and the fabric of her dress, letting her know that it was there. Her eyes weren’t open yet, and the only that was moving were hands, in and out, in and out, as if she was dreaming and they were dreaming with her.
A bead of sweat rolled down Kira’s neck and she knew that it was different. That everything was different and that finally, it was time. Her breathing slowed, hitching slightly, and all that she felt was blue. A different shade of it.
Her fingers and hands, strong in their ways finally stopped and for a moment she fell nearly asleep, exhausted after all that had passed. It was only with the last strength she had that she opened her eyes, to see what had happened, shape had been taken.
There is a place called Beyond, and with her dark eyes blurred and sleepily focused, all that Kira could see was blue.
[[ooc: leaning against a tree outside the compound, and it will be a perfectly ordinary debut. all i ask if you could ping me (at echochaser18) to tell me if your pup: a)has blue eyes or b) is wearing blue, if you tag in. Thanks.]]
It was open and warm and bright and welcoming; full of somethings and maybes and could bes that Kira could only see and feel in that in between place. That moment between waking and sleeping, when all she had was her fingers moving in and out of the fabric.
There was her village, wild and reckless and needing her. It needed her to create the future for it, to unchain the Singer, to make the world anew, just like the plants striving for life in her garden, as she pressed her hands against the earth, weaving them amongst the grass, hearing the yelps of the tykes in the breaking dawn.
It tired her, moving and dragging, moving and dragging, but it was alive under her fingers, growing and striving and Kira did it because that was what she, the Threader, the dying artists had to do. The blue had to grow, the woad was growing for them, and with it, she was teaching people, bringing hope.
Things were changing, people were changing. It was all in the hope of the blue and there was growth there.
She was tired though, and had to rest. Small steps were better than no steps at all.
Carefully, she rose to her feet, dragging her leg along until she reached the bench resting against her cott, picking up her embroidery frame, and resting her stick as well. She ran her fingers along the stitches, the places that Had Been, the Ruin and what was Now. Picking up a carefully threaded needle, she closed her eyes and began, moving as if in a dream, in and out, in and out.
There is a place called Beyond and it is beautiful, like a dream, and as her fingers move, taking her there, drifting her across the spans of it, she can see forever, create forever. In and out, in and out, patterns of it, and she relaxed as if in sleep, dreaming the future in her fingers.
A tree rested against her back, the bark of it jutting through her sweater and the fabric of her dress, letting her know that it was there. Her eyes weren’t open yet, and the only that was moving were hands, in and out, in and out, as if she was dreaming and they were dreaming with her.
A bead of sweat rolled down Kira’s neck and she knew that it was different. That everything was different and that finally, it was time. Her breathing slowed, hitching slightly, and all that she felt was blue. A different shade of it.
Her fingers and hands, strong in their ways finally stopped and for a moment she fell nearly asleep, exhausted after all that had passed. It was only with the last strength she had that she opened her eyes, to see what had happened, shape had been taken.
There is a place called Beyond, and with her dark eyes blurred and sleepily focused, all that Kira could see was blue.
[[ooc: leaning against a tree outside the compound, and it will be a perfectly ordinary debut. all i ask if you could ping me (at echochaser18) to tell me if your pup: a)has blue eyes or b) is wearing blue, if you tag in. Thanks.]]