A Mournful Morning
Apr 14, 2016 10:55:23 GMT -6
Post by Mokobo on Apr 14, 2016 10:55:23 GMT -6
Around mid-morning is when the clouds of the previous night's storm began to break. Dark thunderheads began to disperse into collections of cumulus clouds, fluffy masses which allowed the sun's warm rays to shine merrily upon the earth. The dense forest below, while soaked thoroughly, had mostly survived the evening's calamities. Several species of birds began to come out from their hiding places, beginning the first tentative songs to herald the passing of the deluge. These trilling tunes were a welcome song compared to the crashing and rumbling of the spring squall. As if waking from a dream, the jungle would begin to stir as creatures prepared to set about their every day lives.
Other than a bump on the head one deer had given himself as the first clap of thunder had startled him, and one extremely exhausted mother hare, no creature had suffered any true harm from the storm. Even the avian life which had sheltered among the boughs of trees had suffered no worse than a few ruffled feathers. Despite this apparent lack of damage, the morning air still seemed thick with a sorrowful sensation. Perhaps it was the humidity left over from the storm, trapped within the dense foliage of the forest. Such an explanation was certainly plausible, but it did not account for the heaviness this aura would put on one's heart. Even the squirrels refrained from their usual rambunctious ramblings, simply scurrying about the jungle in a somber silence.
There had been one casualty during the night's excitement. One loss which seemed insignificant to the woodland creatures who carried on with their morning rituals with a funereal reverence. An ancient balsam poplar had been felled by the storm, passing in as peaceful a way a tree could hope for. Perhaps crashing to the floor of the forest calmest way to go, but it was far more preferable than to be consumed by fire or pierced by lightning or even consumed away by rot. One moment the sentinel of a tree had been resting peacefully upon the rocking waves of the wind, enjoying the way the current danced with its boughs. It always had enjoyed a good spring squall, reveling in the way the gusts would sway its trunk as the rain bathed its broad leaves. This final storm had simply swept the elder of the forest off into the freedom it had dreamed of as a young sapling,
There in the center of a grove of similar poplars lay the broken boughs and timeworn trunk of felled tree. Crouched by this loss of life was the source of the aura of grief which grasped the surrounding area. It was a wolf, but a curious looking one at that. Chocolate brown pelt, which shook with sobs, was parted along his spine and underside by bark-like growths of varying hues of green. Usually these scales were a brilliant emerald green, full of the vigor and vitality of life. However, as he lifted his head to begin a mournful mantra which surged with magic, it would be apparent that this creature had been mourning this loss for most of the morning. Once more the Wandering Sage poured the energy of his magics into the lifeless frame of the ancient poplar, desperately trying to bring the old friend back to life.
He instead found himself reminiscing on what had made this one tree so dear to him. Vita had first come to these lands in search of a wondrous forest from legend. His people revered all life, but that of plants the most. As a youth he had learned to communicate with the fauna at the most ancient and basest of levels. He remembered how his mentor had explained how all life had once spoken the same language, and that over time every creature began to forget the old language as they were swept away by the chaos of being. Vita's people had not forgotten simply because their lives had always been dedicated to that of their photosynthetic friends. Even so, many of the old ways had faded into legends and much was still forgotten. It was the search for a legend that had brought him so far from home.
Despite some setbacks, Vita had eventually reached the lands of the Imperii, then known as the territory of Shinkou. He remembered his wonder at the magic which pulsed through the very soil. Almost every tree had seen countless ages and amazing events. Indeed some could remember things the canines who lived beneath them had long forgotten. Many seasons had been spent studying under the tutelage of old oaks, battered birches, and the occasional pine (whom always seemed to have prickly attitudes). It had been a peaceful time full of wonders and growth, but as it is said all good things have to come to an end.
The Great War tore apart the land which Vita loved so. His sorrow grew to immense proportions as old friends and teachers were torn asunder or burned by the scourging wrath of war. The settling dust had revealed a war-torn and almost barren land. The mere sight had made Vita sick to his stomach, which he promptly had emptied as he started to count his losses. This tragedy had not been insignificant to his fellow canines, and after the war they had indeed worked with him to start healing the forest. Even so, a slight bitterness had settled in Vita as he considered that the members of the pack would never truly understand the loss he felt. It was a foolish sentiment, and he did eventually realize this, but even so it was the reason behind his desire to be a loner.
During the long and arduous work of restoring life to the lands with the other earth elementals, Vita had stumbled upon this now dead poplar tree. He remembered how astounded he had been that this one tree had survived. Balsam poplars were not known for their sturdy wood, and were prone to being felled by strong winds. That mighty oaks and tenacious pines would perish from the poison of the war and this one tree didn't was a miracle. Rather than use his magic to reinforce this tree Vita had simply nourished the surrounding turf. A wonder such as this was a testament to the legend which had brought him so far from home, and to alter this life seemed a sacrilege.
As the forest grew around this lone survivor, Vita found himself returning quite often to visit his new friend. He found enjoyment in sitting beneath its shade while listening to it tell stories as the wind breezed through its broad leaves. In the spring the tree's sweet buds had put off the most pleasant aroma before their puffed into cottony wads which floated away on errant breezes. All these good memories flooded into Vita's mind as his voice choked within his throat. Softly his voice would fade away as he drew back his magic, causing the scales of his bark to brighten considerably.
The wolf realized now he had let his grief control him. Just as it was then, it would be a dishonor to this old friend to try and use his magic to revive it. The ancient poplar had lived a long and full life. The evidence was all around him. Surrounding the felled tree was a grove of balsam poplars, the children of his passed companion. Even now their own sweet-scented buds were filling the air with their aroma, replacing the aura of grief with one of hope and life. A small smile would spread across Vita's lips as he surveyed the trees around him. Even though he had lost one dear to him, they would continue to live on through his memories and the lives of its family. Vita found this thought a small comfort as he slowly lifted himself to all fours. While his heart was still heavy, the sun had begun to peek through the canopy of the forest in such a way that he could not help but feel a little warm ray of hope as he began to take his leave of the grove.
Those we care for may leave our lives, but they are only truly lost to us when we forget the memories which made them so dear.
OoC - I know I already have an open RP with Vita, and while this is an open RP it is also somewhat of a dedication piece. Just really needed to channel some emotions -.- However, any and all are welcome to join in ^_^ I just don't want to put the (Open) tag in the title =P
Other than a bump on the head one deer had given himself as the first clap of thunder had startled him, and one extremely exhausted mother hare, no creature had suffered any true harm from the storm. Even the avian life which had sheltered among the boughs of trees had suffered no worse than a few ruffled feathers. Despite this apparent lack of damage, the morning air still seemed thick with a sorrowful sensation. Perhaps it was the humidity left over from the storm, trapped within the dense foliage of the forest. Such an explanation was certainly plausible, but it did not account for the heaviness this aura would put on one's heart. Even the squirrels refrained from their usual rambunctious ramblings, simply scurrying about the jungle in a somber silence.
There had been one casualty during the night's excitement. One loss which seemed insignificant to the woodland creatures who carried on with their morning rituals with a funereal reverence. An ancient balsam poplar had been felled by the storm, passing in as peaceful a way a tree could hope for. Perhaps crashing to the floor of the forest calmest way to go, but it was far more preferable than to be consumed by fire or pierced by lightning or even consumed away by rot. One moment the sentinel of a tree had been resting peacefully upon the rocking waves of the wind, enjoying the way the current danced with its boughs. It always had enjoyed a good spring squall, reveling in the way the gusts would sway its trunk as the rain bathed its broad leaves. This final storm had simply swept the elder of the forest off into the freedom it had dreamed of as a young sapling,
There in the center of a grove of similar poplars lay the broken boughs and timeworn trunk of felled tree. Crouched by this loss of life was the source of the aura of grief which grasped the surrounding area. It was a wolf, but a curious looking one at that. Chocolate brown pelt, which shook with sobs, was parted along his spine and underside by bark-like growths of varying hues of green. Usually these scales were a brilliant emerald green, full of the vigor and vitality of life. However, as he lifted his head to begin a mournful mantra which surged with magic, it would be apparent that this creature had been mourning this loss for most of the morning. Once more the Wandering Sage poured the energy of his magics into the lifeless frame of the ancient poplar, desperately trying to bring the old friend back to life.
He instead found himself reminiscing on what had made this one tree so dear to him. Vita had first come to these lands in search of a wondrous forest from legend. His people revered all life, but that of plants the most. As a youth he had learned to communicate with the fauna at the most ancient and basest of levels. He remembered how his mentor had explained how all life had once spoken the same language, and that over time every creature began to forget the old language as they were swept away by the chaos of being. Vita's people had not forgotten simply because their lives had always been dedicated to that of their photosynthetic friends. Even so, many of the old ways had faded into legends and much was still forgotten. It was the search for a legend that had brought him so far from home.
Despite some setbacks, Vita had eventually reached the lands of the Imperii, then known as the territory of Shinkou. He remembered his wonder at the magic which pulsed through the very soil. Almost every tree had seen countless ages and amazing events. Indeed some could remember things the canines who lived beneath them had long forgotten. Many seasons had been spent studying under the tutelage of old oaks, battered birches, and the occasional pine (whom always seemed to have prickly attitudes). It had been a peaceful time full of wonders and growth, but as it is said all good things have to come to an end.
The Great War tore apart the land which Vita loved so. His sorrow grew to immense proportions as old friends and teachers were torn asunder or burned by the scourging wrath of war. The settling dust had revealed a war-torn and almost barren land. The mere sight had made Vita sick to his stomach, which he promptly had emptied as he started to count his losses. This tragedy had not been insignificant to his fellow canines, and after the war they had indeed worked with him to start healing the forest. Even so, a slight bitterness had settled in Vita as he considered that the members of the pack would never truly understand the loss he felt. It was a foolish sentiment, and he did eventually realize this, but even so it was the reason behind his desire to be a loner.
During the long and arduous work of restoring life to the lands with the other earth elementals, Vita had stumbled upon this now dead poplar tree. He remembered how astounded he had been that this one tree had survived. Balsam poplars were not known for their sturdy wood, and were prone to being felled by strong winds. That mighty oaks and tenacious pines would perish from the poison of the war and this one tree didn't was a miracle. Rather than use his magic to reinforce this tree Vita had simply nourished the surrounding turf. A wonder such as this was a testament to the legend which had brought him so far from home, and to alter this life seemed a sacrilege.
As the forest grew around this lone survivor, Vita found himself returning quite often to visit his new friend. He found enjoyment in sitting beneath its shade while listening to it tell stories as the wind breezed through its broad leaves. In the spring the tree's sweet buds had put off the most pleasant aroma before their puffed into cottony wads which floated away on errant breezes. All these good memories flooded into Vita's mind as his voice choked within his throat. Softly his voice would fade away as he drew back his magic, causing the scales of his bark to brighten considerably.
The wolf realized now he had let his grief control him. Just as it was then, it would be a dishonor to this old friend to try and use his magic to revive it. The ancient poplar had lived a long and full life. The evidence was all around him. Surrounding the felled tree was a grove of balsam poplars, the children of his passed companion. Even now their own sweet-scented buds were filling the air with their aroma, replacing the aura of grief with one of hope and life. A small smile would spread across Vita's lips as he surveyed the trees around him. Even though he had lost one dear to him, they would continue to live on through his memories and the lives of its family. Vita found this thought a small comfort as he slowly lifted himself to all fours. While his heart was still heavy, the sun had begun to peek through the canopy of the forest in such a way that he could not help but feel a little warm ray of hope as he began to take his leave of the grove.
Those we care for may leave our lives, but they are only truly lost to us when we forget the memories which made them so dear.
OoC - I know I already have an open RP with Vita, and while this is an open RP it is also somewhat of a dedication piece. Just really needed to channel some emotions -.- However, any and all are welcome to join in ^_^ I just don't want to put the (Open) tag in the title =P