#magicintro

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[yisunalundhoro]

The windows shuttered as the wind blew outside, the warmth of the evening woke her when the movement of the shutters gently tapped against the colorful glass that let the moonlight seep through. Heavy lashes parted, letting the sliver of emerald greens peek through them as she stretched herself; the pop of her bones heard as a relieved sigh escaped her. The sleep hadn’t left her body, the heaviness of her limbs still there as she slid herself from the bed. The soft press of small feet against hardwood was near silent, her tail dragging across the sheets as she slid herself from the cocooned warmth, doing her best to not disturb her partner from his slumber.

The hour was late, the waning summer evening was mixing with the soon to be autumn air, the crickets still chirped to serenade the night and the waves still crashed against the shore as she stepped through the front door to stand in the lawn. The grass brushed against the bottom of her feet as if welcoming her back, the light dew coating her toes as they pushed through the strands, the wind pushed her hair from her shoulders, making it dance and twirl like a red flame. Wilderness embraced her, it was part of her, and she often communed to the yard to get the taste of it, to feel the wind kiss her skin and the waves to serenade her in the late hours. The lightning bugs that often danced in the yard were still, afraid to get swept away with the gusts of wind that rolled from the ocean, spreading the smell of salt. The stars remained vibrant over head, twinkling and guiding to those who seemed lost, dancing for those that still believed in wonder and stayed true to those who needed a small sense of hope.

The small xaela eased herself to sit, crossing her legs over each other as her tail wrapped around her. It felt oddly familiar, the softened sounds and the dimmed, clouded vision as the soft rasp of footfalls came from behind her. The elder letting out a soft sigh as her older bones settled to the same sitting position, the small crackle of arthritis popping, the smell of warm essence still about her person as the bright, vibrant reds and blues of  feathers decorated the silver of her hair that fell far beyond her shoulders. The horns that were curved were decorated with various rings, carved, jade, gold...they tinked as she moved. It wasn't alarming, but comforting as Yisunalun sat there, looking up at the stars that stretched across the sky.

<”Grandmother.”> came the soft greeting, the tightening of her chest making the soft alto rasp.

The elder smiled, the once proud Dhoro aged and weathered, the smile lines forever etched into her grey skin and the faded freckles highlighting it further. The dimmed jade hues looked into the mirror of her once self, passed down through the clan.

<”Do not cry, what is this?”> the aged hand reached out to gently turn the younger Dhoro’s head, making vivid green look into the once lively ones.. <”Why do you cry? Child, we did not leave you, we gave you the chance to explore and to see new places. You have seen so much…”> the dimmed eyes looked into those emerald hues, <”Got eaten, didn't you? Trialed, creatures of the void...”> the gentled hand moved to pull the younger one closer, embracing her. <”Yet you survived. You are a strong child, a xaela. No one can take that from you and even now you have bloomed into something I had not foreseen.”> the crackle of the voice was soothing, if not relaxing as the tears flowed freely down Yisunaluns’s cheeks. <”My child, you are so much more than what you think you are.”>

<”I want to come home. I wish to see you again…”> She was shushed, being embraced in the robes of her grandmother as the frail arms held her close, muffling the tremble and soft sobs that were held in her chest.

<”You have more here, than what waits in the Steppes, my child. You have many great things, but now you are the one I pass a gift to, you have done so much, proven that you are much more than one who cuts trails. You are lucky, my red headed love..”> the gentle voice whispered into her hair as the softest kiss was placed onto her head. <”You are good, you will always be good, don't ever forget it and take this because you are more, no matter what is said I know you will do right. You will be what I once was, and you will see far beyond what is in front of you.”>

The heavy weight in her palm felt strange, feeling the texture of something solid as she looked down seeing a small stone resting there. It flared the smallest bit of purple before it faded, jolting her memory of the thing she had once taken as she escaped from a different tribe, the tempered. The ones that still sought her out making alarm slither through the once tranquil feeling.

A typhoon of questions started, her lips moving only for her voice to be lost as the wind whispered and caressed against her skin, as the feel of robes were gone, the scent lingering only to fade as the wind blew sweeping it away. A book resting in the grass where her grandmother once sat, the crickets silent, the wind changing as it became a bit more violent and the lulling sound of the sea started to churn as rolling black clouds started to cover the moon.

<“Run, lucky red, run.”> it was the softest whisper, as the houses started to flicker and dot themselves out into the darkness. It was a chain as they started to flicker, being consumed by the pitch. It sent alarm through her, as she hastily gathered up the heavy tome, the sluggish feeling her legs from sleep still there as she struggled to move faster as the black started to dot with the gloss of tempered eyes. The limberal rings menacing as the shadowing forms stepped from the darkness, passing into the yard. The familiar xaelic males splitting the shadows on their faces as the smiles grew, the yard seeping into the black as they stepped closer. The blood rushed, the pounding of it heard in her horns as she tried to run, feeling her tail get snagged as she was pulled back. The deep chuckles, jeers and laughs rang through her horns as the darkness of hands seemed to swallow her, her hand scraping the door, only to have it pulled under as her screams became muffled.

The struggle was there, as she clutched the old tome to her chest, feeling like her chest would both constrict from panic or explode from how hard her heart beat against her chest. The feeling of nausea hit her, as the crackling started at the base of her skull. The swell of something edging out of her as she felt out of her own body, watching it as it was pulled under only to hear the cries of terror from those around her as the hands melted away. The heat of magic wafted, it made  the air crackle with it before the blinding light evaporated the inky shadows. The glaring light of magic washed down to an eerie purple as the emerald hues that she once recognized as her own, glowed brightly as her limberal rings held the aether and magic that thrummed around her person. Her feet didn’t touch the ground as the ghostly visage stepped through, holding the book out in front of her before it dropped. <”Catch.”> came the hollow tone of her voice, echoing as her hair floated with an unseen wind.

The heavy weight that hit her chest had her jack-knife up as pillows and blankets flew everywhere. The cry from the small dragon as she was nearly launched had Yisunalun’s breath catch. The air flow had nearly stopped as she unwrapped the blankets from her body only to fall into the floor. It was a flurry of movement that only stopped when she hit the hardwood floor with a solid ‘thunk’. It was more than likely enough to wake the white haired miqo’te that slumbered next to her, leaving him blinking. The dulled ‘thud’ of a heavier object was beside her in the blankets. The wash of weariness and dejavu had her reach out to pull the blanket apart in her forced awake state, her mind not yet catching up to the body as the book that was given to her rested in the soft material. The cover sealed, but had xaelic manuscript over it, the smell of incense and essence making it feel welcoming, as a brightly colored feather marked a page inside of it. The wind blew outside, making the windows rattle as her small hands picked up the tome looking it over as if unsure how to open it much less how it appeared with her. The dream was so vivid...was it even a dream? There was no stone, just the book that smelled of her relative, locked and sitting in her hands.