#lightdancer

[lightdancer1]

My stories, the Omniverse Tales originated as a pastiche of the New Teen Titans Raven.

The Lightdancer, originally, in her first iteration was a bone-hued Wilbur Whateley-esque Raven clone whose father was a demonic figure with a name that was roughly translated as ‘Triangle’ as a pun on well, Trigon and that Trigon is ‘triangle’ in Greek. In that first iteration of her that I have from when I was fifteen there was a clash between the two.

There are still elements of her and of her design that are owed to Raven, her cape, the loincloth, which was an element of Raven’s dress kept even when the Lightdancer moved to be a blend of Raven and Superman, and the Lightning-Smoke, the power that leads to one of her many names as the Great Unmaker. The Lightning-Smoke blends the Soul-Self and the clouds of smoke from Raven’s teleportation and it’s literally exactly what it says, the Unmaker-force that at its apex at the end of the Tales awakens the Dreamer, aka the writer, aka Azathoth (yes, my author avatar equivalent is literally Lovecraft’s Azathoth. A blind idiot god who creates countless stacked dreams within dreams without rhyme or reason. And the direct ‘author avatar’ equivalent are the two faces of Nyarlathotep). 

This ultimately is where she circled right around back to be extremely Raven-ish, her entire function is the physical avatar of the end of all things mortal, save that when she does it’s a benevolent and ultimate necessity, and on its smaller scales as the shape that Death takes to interact with mortals is the ultimate release and triumph in the Dreaming, for what goes from the Lightning-Smoke can no more be tapped into the whim of the malevolence of the Outer Gods.

The Unmaker in this sense is the ultimate archetype of Death, while Nyarlathotep the Soul and Messenger is a shadow-archetype of *Dream* of the Endless, though this was less intentional and more taking in elements of Nyarlathotep in the Dreamlands of Lovecraft, noting the parallel, and running with it.

This is a setting where the paragon superhero who is the Superman expy is the literal embodiment of death as cessation of existence, while the supervillain is a twisted empire-entity called Azarath, the Undying Flame, the Great Hunger, the Firstborn of Chaos, the God on the Gilded Throne. Immortality as a ceaseless nightmare where entities are held captive in the malevolent whim of an all too tangible deity that gnaws on souls and toys with them for its own amusement.

And she, essentially, is the shadow-archetype of the Abrahamic God of the theologians. All the bells and whistles except the crucial bit of actually being genuinely capable of loving anything but herself. There’s even a quasi-Greek element of extremely predatory and unhealthy attachment to her younger sister the embodiment of death in her own longing for death and being unable to die and inflicting her torment on everyone and anyone else unfortunate enough to cross her path.

[nwinterhaven]

hopefully will be introducing this girl into my stable later next week, she is just adorable!! her name is lightdancer aka ‘luna’

[wolfandthehay]

10-1-17 Iridescence is in her happy place: Pink bats and strawberry milk. She’s also a bit of a horror junkie. 😬🦇✨🍓Stoked to be participating in #inktober2017! #OC #iridescence #Pinkbats #drawing #inktober #90sgrunge #bomberjacket #spacebuns #pinkmilk #strawberrymilk #pinkink #inktoberday1 #originalcharacter #lightdancer #docmartens #albinobat #albinobats @inktober @jakeparker

#alteregoinktober

[lightdancer1]

That and

As I’ve written them, the cosmic entities are literal Lovecraftian horrors that no mere mortals, even Kaiju-scale, are more than a speedbump to, so if they decide to make an appearance it’s game over and as collateral damage. Entities that throw multiverses around like softballs deform reality by their merely manifesting into it.

That same reality means that they are present in equivalents of the Necronomicon and its like as not that different to Cthulhu and Azathoth because like them, they’re incomprehensible monstrosities with the few that resemble humanity the more horrid for the resemblance.

[nwinterhaven]

at first I thought i’d only buy maybe 1 or 2 fjords, but somehow I’ve ended up with 4.. honestly though I was a bit sceptical at first, but now I really love them! from left to right we have: Evergaze ‘Enzo’ (gelding), Winterborn ‘Bandit’ (gelding), Frostangel ‘Aura’(mare) and Lightdancer ‘Luna’ (mare). don’t think I could pick a favourite out of these 4, I love them all my precious little fluffy pons.

[iammyownnemesis]

The Lightdancer, part 4

Long ago, when the moons were younger and Mirabei still a babe much like you, it was the custom that Talents, who were talents by trade, would wander about Rinnel, teaching the skills of magics for all the people in the land. Now, in those times too, there were cities huge as Two Rivers or Mioten, and they, same as any town large enough, had their resident Talents. No such luck for the small villages and farming communities where every able-bodied person was needed on a field or in a trade - and so, The Wander Cycle was established. A Talent with no attachments - or sometimes with too many, or possibly a fear of them, I grant you - would take to the road, be freed from taxation and the grueling toil of the day-to-day. The remote villages would receive them with hospitality and in exchange for food and a bedding they would instruct the people and aid them awaken their talent.

    Aarn, as you all know, grew up in a modest village, only slightly larger than our settlement here. Mirabei doesn’t mention its name - it is uncertain if Aarn ever told even her - so each taleteller usually spins a bit of a local colour into the weave, calling this or that village the birthplace of Aarn. I suppose Aarn in this way wanted to add to his own mystery. Or maybe he had some other reason, which we today wouldn't know about.

     Mirabei’s writings recount the  story as Aarn himself told it to her. He was young and his talent was yet to awaken when a Talent came to his village. It was the time of the hot weather of early summer. The crop was still green on the fields, the trees as yet unbending from the weight of the fruit and thus all of the village heartily welcomed the teacher. If they had passed the village by, or had arrived a little later, during the harvest maybe, then this world of ours might be something different than what it now is...

    It was not only the young who were taught. All villagers in need of training received the lessons. The older generation would be instructed further in their use of magic, learning new forms and revising the old ones. It was the custom of the time to share one’s knowledge freely and thus people had a very wide range of things they could accomplish with their talent, although I suppose most people would only use such magic as eased their toil.

    The young ones, who had their talents still sleeping inside them, were told stories of magic and were instructed in the proper forms of closing and opening. Some of them might have their talent awaken during the lessons and would learn to nurture their sapling skill under the Talent’s guidance. The others gained the knowledge and skills needed for later awakening.

    Mirabei tells that a canopy was erected by a stream. The people from the village would sit the lessons in turn. Those waiting for their turn would cool themselves at the stream, lunch and gossip. The children ran around the tree trunks in their endless games but never strayed too far from the excitement of the main gathering.

    Among the group of young people, one person shone brighter than the others. Disciplined, hard-working and quick-witted, Rom was the first to awaken a small flame on the palm of his hand, which spread  a gentle light and warmth but did not burn. According to Mirabei, Aarn vividly remembered the look on the other’s face in that moment, one of wondrous beauty. With the Talent’s help Rom learned to close and call again the tiny flame already during that first day of awakening, which to me sounds like he might have been one of the naturals.

    Soon another youth awakened their talent, then another. But Aarn’s continued to slumber. He tried all the different ways the Talent instructed them in but days passed and still his talent remained dormant. Then, the Talent’s time was up. They packed up and took to the road. Aarn was left with a longing in his heart and I suppose, envy towards the awoken in his village.

    The days returned to their usual routine. The children played, helped with the chores and practised their magic if they had awoken to it. The grown-ups and the elders worked, now aided with a new spell or two. Aarn felt an outsider in his own community. The others seemed distant to him. He had usually excelled in the other arts and crafts of the village and was especially gifted in reading and sums. He found it difficult to accept that he wasn’t able to awaken his magic, but try as he might, even on his own he was unable to do it.

    Then, one night in the late summer, as he lay awake with the aches of the ongoing harvest, he came to a decision. He would seek out the magical beings, the green folk of the wood, and ask for their aid.

    It is said that the green folk in those days were a much gentler people than nowadays. Who knows? Aarn had heard the old stories, those that spoke of them as living talent, speaking a language that made the magic flow. He convinced himself that if he could only find them, or one of them at the least, they would help his talent awaken.

    His plan made, Aarn set out to realize it. He packed food and other useful things for the venture. He waited for the first moon, Anauel, to fill half its face before setting out. The green folk were more scarce in those days but Mirabei mentions moonlight and especially full faced moons made them easier to spot.

    Aarn journeyed for a long time and passed more moons than he had accounted for. The late summer turned to autumn and then the nights became chilled. There was plenty of food around all the woods for such as knew where and how to find it. But no matter how long he searched, the forest folk stayed hidden.

    One day in Three Woods, Aarn woke to find his breath pluming white in the cold air and frost clinging to his clothes. The winter wasn’t far. He had failed.

    A desperation seized him then. Aarn leaned his back against the trunk of a tree and sat beside his fire, indifferent to the passage of time. The frost crept closer and closer until finally one dark morning he was unable to light his fire anymore. His food had already ran out. Still he sat, shivering in the cold. The sky paled for a while but he might as well have been blind to its light. Soon, the night fell again. The darkness enveloped Aarn and he welcomed its embrace.

    A new morning dawned. Aarn opened his frost rimmed eyes to the light slanting through the trees. A glimmer hung in the air and he shut his eyes and shook his head to clear it, sure that he was seeing things, weakened as he was. When he opened his eyes again, however, the glimmer was still there.

    Slowly, Aarn rose. He reached out his hand and saw the glimmer move in the air as if at the command of his movement. He couldn’t touch it, no matter how he tried - the glimmering something he saw wasn’t a true thing of this world but something beyond it. Aarn moved into it and saw it responding again. Puzzled, he reached out his hands to an opening.

    He saw how the glimmer came to him then, following a path his hands created for it and as he continued dancing through it, a strong wind rose from between his hands and blew across the wood, scattering frosted leaves and dried twigs as it went.

    Aarn’s talent had finally woken.

[iammyownnemesis]

The Lightdancer, part 3

Later, the day’s work, chores and baths done, the women sat in the firelight in their tent and chatted amongst themselves. Anuéla brushed Aura’s hair. Aura enjoyed their closeness, the lingering warmth of the hot water and the dance of the shadows the flames created on the tent walls.

    “You’ve been quiet today. Is something the matter? Did Pom tell you the news?” her mother asked.

    “Yes. I was surprised. I didn’t think the blood could start so young.”

    “Well, everyone’s different, as they say.”

    “It feels strange, too. Pom’s basically an adult now. I’ve always thought of her as a little kid, kind of like a baby sister.”

    “Maybe it’s because you are straining to grow up, yourself. No, hold still, I still have some tangles to sort out here. What I mean is that maybe you want to see Pom as a baby because it makes yourself feel older?”

    “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

    “Be as it may. Nevertheless, it doesn’t mean everything has to change, not right away at least. While you all might already be considered adults in the eyes of the world, there is no rush to become one - not at least as long as this cold season lasts. And I know that Pom looks up to you like a sister does. It makes me glad to see you two together.”

    They fell silent then for a time. Aura rested her head on her knees. Anuéla finished with her hair and came to sit next to her. They snuggled into the same blanket and listened to the others talking away.

    “Mom?” Aura asked in a tiny voice. “What if Pom’s talent awakes right away? What if mine never does?”

    “So that’s what’s got you worried. I might have guessed,” her mother said and Aura could hear the smile in her voice. Then she sighed. “If it does, then it does. We cannot really know. But I have confidence in you. It hasn’t really even been that long a time yet, Ari.”

    “Everyone but me and Pom have their talents awake already.”

    “True. But they weren’t especially quick about it either, apart from Lia, who seems more natural with his talent than even Iluvin. You know there are those who are gifted and then there are those of us who need to put in the effort.” Anuéla squeezed her daughter to her side. “My talent took its time as well. And I was just as impatient for it as you are. Stop worrying, dearest. It’ll wake. Now, come on. Time for bed.”

    They made for their bedding, but before Anuela laid down, Aura thought of something else: “What about father? Could it affect my talent that he is a dormant?”

   Anuéla shrugged. “I don’t really know. It says in Mirabei’s writings that everyone in Rinnel has a talent, so it should make no difference. But then again, during Mirabei’s time the use of magic was only just being banned - one cannot know for sure if the centuries between here and there have affected the general principles of people being..., well, people.”

    “I see,” Aura nodded, then was quiet for a while before she continued: “Do you ever miss him?”

    “Meic? No, not really. I do think about him sometimes but I’m happier here. I wasn’t so deeply in love with him that I couldn’t live without him. And I don’t suppose we would have made a good couple. Too many differences in opinion.”

    “Tell me about him.”

    “You know all the stories already, dearest.”

    “Yeah, I know. But..., please?”

    “Oh, fine. But then you’ll sleep.”

    Anuéla began the tale, of how she had travelled when she was young, how she had met Aura’s father and how quickly her heart had beat whenever he had looked at her. Aura smiled in her covers and drifted off to sleep before the story was halfway through.

The next day it was snowing so hard that the adults decided to give up on more tree felling. Everyone huddled inside the tents, mending, sowing and gossiping. Save for quick trips down to the stream or to visit the others in camp the youths also stayed inside. Aura and Pom brought the meal to the elders, who all stayed together in one of the tents along with Moira and Iluvin. 

    Obo lay down, wrapped tightly in his bedding. Marti and Joslen were sitting close to the fire, mending clothes and chatting. Joslen pinched Pom’s cheek when she handed her a steaming bowl of barley and vegetable broth. Moira helped Obo to rise and put pillows behind him so he could spoon the broth more easily. 

    Lia and Riss entered, full canisters of water with them, just as Marti said to Aura: “ So, you’re both nearly adults now. How about the talent? Have you awoken yet?”

    “No, not yet,” Aura said quietly. She saw Riss was taking his time with the water to hear her answer. She shrugged and said: “Maybe I’ll be your age when it happens.”

    Marti and Joslen both laughed at that, and Moira smiled, too.

    “Don’t worry, little one. Not that you have been very little in a while now, haven’t you? It’ll come in its own time. Did you know the great Aarn himself had trouble with his awakening? Yes, he did at that. But he awoke, too, as we all well know and went on to become the greatest talent ever.”

    “Right, so no pressure,” Aura said sarcastically.

    Pom giggled. “I never knew that about Aarn. Does Mirabei tell the story?”

    “She does. I don’t suppose Aarn himself went around telling it to people. He was too busy bashing people’s heads together to end the wars after all. And after he brought about the ban, a story like that would not go down well either. For you see, Aarn was so desperate to awaken his talent that he hid himself away, deep inside the Three Woods, and there...”

    “For Bei’s sake, Marti, if you are going to tell the story, do it properly. There’s a whole lot more to the story than the woods and what happened there.” Obo had finished the broth and gestured for Moira to help him back down.

    “Tell it yourself then, you big old goat, if mine’s not to your liking.”

    Aura, Pom, Lia and Riss all perked up. It was rare for Obo to have the strength for a story, but if he did, they didn't want to miss it. Moira came to help Obo lie down, but seeing the youths’ attention on him, Obo waved her aside.

    “Fine. I should manage as much, with the power of this broth.” 

    Pom sniggered. Aura elbowed her to keep quiet. Obo hacked up a cough and after he was done, he continued with a steady, storyteller's voice: “Gather round then, one and all, and listen, while I recount the proper story of how Aarn gained his powers...

[iammyownnemesis]

The Lightdancer, part 2

Aura had lit the fire, prepared the batter and was just tapping the first seed cakes on the baking stones by the fire when the first people entered the tent. Rain held the flap open for the three elders - Marti, Joslen and Obo - then followed them in ahead of Luka, Riss - Lia’s twin - Lia and Moira. Everyone settled as close to the fire as they could fit, talking and laughing and grumbling with everyone else. Rain took the teakettle and left to fill it from the stream - more sounds of people moving about the camp could be heard as Rain ducked through the flap. Riss grabbed the two water containers that had frozen during the night and gave the other one to Lia to unfreeze - they were so practised by now that they could hold a continual chat with one another, while their hands worked through the motions of the spell.

    “Ah, seed cakes, is it Ari? We still had enough stuff for those left?” Marti asked as she laboriously seated herself on the rugs.

    “Last of the bag, Marti. The next ship’ll be here soon, so might as well use these ones now,” Aura replied, smiling. The three elders hardly left the camp anymore, but puttered in and around the tents nonetheless, busying themselves with whatever light work they still managed. Marti had a sharp head for figures and she was always uncannily aware of their food and supplies stock - the youngsters often joked that she probably counted everything by grain. Now she hummed in appreciation, breathing in the scent of the cakes baking on the stones. Joslen sat beside her, but Obo wrapped his thick coverlet tighter around himself and lay down in the empty space off the side of the big tent. His bones ached with the cold so that he could hardly bring himself to move between the common tent and the sleeping tents anymore.

    Luka tried to reach past Aura for the first, steaming seed cake, but Joslen swatted his hand away.

    “Old women and pretty girls first, Luka  you just wait your turn like the others!”

    “Ashes, aunt, it’s not my fault I wasn’t born a girl! Aren’t pretty boys almost the same in any case?” he asked flippantly, flashing a bright smile at his grandmother.

    “Don’t you talk to me that way! Aunt, indeed! I suppose a pretty boy is more useful than a dumb one, and goodness knows you are cutting it close as it is.”

    Everyone laughed at Joslen’s words, Luka included. Aura checked the cakes and as they were ready flipped them deftly off the stones and handed the basket to Joslen. She stuffed a cake half in her mouth, handed another to Luka who whooped with mirth and passed the basket on to Marti. Aura tapped the next batch onto the stones and soon received back the now emptied basket just as Rain, Hanan, Iluvin and her mother entered. Rain hoisted the kettle on the hook and swung it over the fire, the water already close to boiling as he did so. The four sat down beside the others and chewed on some nuts and dried fruit as they waited for more cakes.

After breakfast they all gathered on the clearing. They brushed the ground from the snow and took their places for the morning practice. Aura’s mother, Anuela, led them through the steps this morning. She had a gentle way of doing it and she murmured the names of the positions as she moved, making a sort of sing-song rhyme of it. Aura liked listening to her mother’s voice and mimicked her tone under her breath. As their bodies warmed up, Anuela quickened the steps and soon they were all dancing as if to a silent music. The feet scuffled and their breath steamed and all around the snowflakes whirled and danced with them. 

    Aura tried to concentrate on the inside, to listen to her talent as the adults always instructed them. The movements were familiar to her from years of practise and she was able to follow the others without overthinking, but still she struggled with quieting her mind. She wondered what it felt like when the talent awoke. Mirabei’s teachings, which she had first heard and then read herself, spoke nothing of it. It only explained that everyone had an innate ability for magic hidden within them, which they needed to awaken somehow. There were several different ways, for every talent – every person – was unique after all. Some talents awoke after rigorous physical training, others through quiet meditation. Mirabei spoke of talents awaking in a dream, or after a great shock, a fear or terror. But always, the text read, after the talent awoke, it had to be trained, nurtured into being. An unused talent returned to sleep. So it must be, Aura mused as she lifted her arms high, for the majority of people in Rinnel.

    They all finished the practice with the three forms of closure - just to be on the safe side. First, the simple closure of just bringing your palms together, feet held apart. Then, the complex one, where the arms swept forwards from the sides,  the legs stepped as the hands formed a cup and a lid, and closed with a simultaneous bow, the legs held together again, which Aura liked the best.   

    The last movement was the pushing down, which began with hands held point to point at the shoulders and ended at a sharp gesture away from the hips. When they began training the dance as children Aura remembered how they were first put to practise just these three movements, over and over again, until they were all bored stiff.  Even so, they practised them still each and every time and Aura could see that both Rain and Hanan went through all three closures an extra time.

    Aura didn’t feel cold anymore. Her breath was quicker and her pulse beat a sharper rhythm but she didn’t feel too winded. Iluvin stood next to Anuela. They studied the sky, which was overcast with an even gray cloud cover. The light spread somewhere behind it, discernible only from the fact that it was no longer dark.

    “It’s light earlier than before, don’t you think?” Iluvin said.

    “Might be. Or might be we are just up later,” Rain replied on their other side.

    Aura also squinted up hopefully. It felt earlier. Warmer, too. Maybe a warm season was coming? It had been a very long time since the last summer. I learned to read right when the snow and ice came, she thought, after we couldn’t just run around and play endlessly among the trees anymore. She didn’t mind the snow; the stillness and the whiteness were beautiful and she loved many of the winter pastimes they had. But she was a summer child and she yearned for warmth as much as anyone else.

    The adults gathered their gear. The airship was on its way and they still had trees to fell to fill their quota. Hanan shooed the youth to their own chores - the paths needed clearing, the tents airing, the water carrying, the meal preparing. The baths need to be filled, too, she reminded them and wrinkled her nose at Riss, who stood the closest, feigning disgust at the water carrying. The other boys laughed and ran off towards the stream, Riss following in their wake with a ringing laugh of his own. Aura picked up one of the brooms and handed another one to Pom, sighing.

    “It seems we are left with the sweeping. Again.”

    “Riss and Luka really hate clearing the paths,” Pom laughed as she began the toil.  They worked side by side, Aura on the left and Pom on the right. “One time I saw them trying to raise a wind to do it for them, but it was no use - they can’t direct it to save their lives and it just blew the snow every which way. And after, they still had to do the sweeping by hand.”

    “I can imagine,” Aura laughed. “I hope we could raise a wind, too, though.”

    “Hm-hm. It would make this a lot faster, wouldn’t it? Speaking of which, any sign of your talent yet?”

    “No, nothing. I don’t know what else to try. Mother is not helping either, she just smiles and fusses my hair, tells me I’ll awake when it’s time. I just wish it would hurry up.”

    “I’m sure it’ll happen eventually,” Pom reassured her. “You know, my blood has started.”

    “What? Already? Congratulations!”

    “Thank you. Mother said it is quite early, even if everyone knows it varies between people. But it also means...”

   “...that your talent can also come awake,” Aura finished. She sighed again. “I bet it does before mine!”

    Pom laughed at that. “It’s not a competition, Ari!  But even so, I’m very excited. Let’s walk this path together, won’t we?”

    “Of course Pom. Always,” Aura smiled. Pom tried to remain solemn, then she too laughed. They had finished the first branch of the paths between the tents now, so they shouldered their brooms and walked back to the clearing. Three more pathways remained and they could again hear the sound of laughter from the stream as the first of the boys made their way back with water pails.  Aura lifted her eyes to the pale gray sky.

    Who knows, she thought. Maybe it begins today.