All the Same

He was walking past the burned-out shells of the village’s homes when he felt eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck raised, his soldier’s sixth sense warning him of imminent danger. In the same motion, he slipped off his safety and turned, crouching low. It took him a minute, eyes searching frantically for a target, to realize he was not actually under attack. He was looking down the barrel of his gun into the dark and haunting eyes of this village’s only survivor. He stayed in his defensive position, gun raised, paralyzed by the turbulent emotions in those eyes. He felt as if they were screaming at him- crying, yelling, moaning, grieving, laughing-he felt his mind reeling, unable to process these emotions that he had been trained to live without for so many long weeks. Now, triggered by those jaded eyes, they came welling up from within him, where he had hidden them deep in his soul. He tried to push them away again, to focus on the emptiness he had come to know so well, the here-and-now attitude that kept him alive day after day when fire rained down from the skies and humanity was a dream from another life. But it was too late; the desolation around him was taking its toll. The only colors he saw were browns, blacks, and grays: the colors of ash, of fire’s consequence, of the ruination of life. The houses loomed over him suddenly, silent witnesses condemning, their stark black entryways like gaping mouths, questioning. The air turned stale in his lungs, polluted, heavy with gunpowder and smoke. It burned his throat as he inhaled, sharp and acrid. The stench of death was easily discernible. It hung, heavy with remorse, clogging every sense and permeating every rock and stone, every scrap of clothing, even the listless dirt at his feet. His shoulders began to shake, his eyes burning, vision turning blurry. He had enough sense of mind left to put the safety back on before the gun slipped from his fingers. The thud as it hit the earth seemed to resonate throughout his entire body, a final sound, containing no comforting insulation for the way things had to be. It did what it did; no remorse, no anticipation. Only cold purpose. He dropped to his knees, cradled his head in his hands, stained with sweat and blood and war, and rocked back and forth, lost to the world. Unseen, the girl-woman? It was impossible to tell her age, grief and loss etched so firmly as they were into her features-slowly extricated herself from the rubble of her home. Quiet as a whisper, as light as a shadow, her bare feet slowly picked their way around the glass and broken stone, the bullets and the metal. Her slight frame came to stand before the soldier, still weeping into those hands that would never come clean. She offered no judgment; no censure, no grace. She folded herself down beside him, and offered him the only thing she did have, the only thing she had left. He felt her soft, bruised arms encircle him, her warmth a limitless gift. Her tears fell with his, joining together to create a rivulet of empathy in the dry, cracked earth, sharing the land that had been given to both of them, to all of them. There in the middle of that devastated land, sharing his grief with a foreigner who knew nothing of him, he understood the real truth, the real language of the world. They were all the same, after all.

Love's Salvation

Once I had a true love,
he said.

Once I was a Prince Charming.
His eyes glistened now, brimming with memory.
I found her in a meadow, the like of which you've never seen. Flowers and grasses whispered soft melodies with the wind, and sunshine alighted everything with a warm and benevolent glow. She lay in the middle of this glory, hardly moving, looking somehow both out of place and at home on this Earth. My horse was oddly calm as I led him towards her, and when I dropped his reins he simply stopped. Stopped and watched the fragile figure, her slight chest moving gently in tune with her breathing. As I approached, I saw the tears glistening on her cheeks, in her eyes, leaving a shimmering trail of heartache and joy, pain and pleasure. I fell softly to my knees, almost as if the Earth was waiting to catch me. It was then that she met my gaze, and I hardly remembered who I was. Such a world I've never known as what I found in those sky-blue eyes, still bright, though somehow I could see that they were becoming dimmer, clouded.
Triumph called my name, and for the first and last time I truly saw what it was to be a son of Adam. The blessing of life given to us, the promise of something eternal, something greater.
Sorrow called my name, and for the first and last time I truly saw what it was to be so flawed, so imperfect, so human. The pain we are bound to inflict upon ourselves and each other, betrayal a way of life.
Another diamond tear clouded her vision, and without conscious thought I reached forward and brushed it from her cheek, from the present and into the past. As I touched her, and thus told her in words unspoken of my love, she began to glow ever so softly. Her eyes became clear once more, and while she still held my gaze I saw the past, the present, the future. The Truth. Elegant white wings suddenly cascaded down her back. With a small smile, she looked away, before her sight could blind me. As it was, I had to close my eyes against the light, and so I only felt a warm and gentle touch upon my shoulder, a sudden breeze caress my face and ruffle my hair before cold air returned. I opened my eyes to the World and saw it forever diminished in comparison to her beauty, but it was at the same time precious and worth protecting. I turned from the now unremarkable clearing and walked back towards my horse.
I never forgot her love,
he said.
I never forgot her gift, because I lived my whole life in search of such love, and never found it. I am forever grateful,
he said, the light of the flickering fire illuminating his tears,
that I was even given that glimpse.

The Gift of Mortality

The roses were blooming again. I paused long enough to pluck one from its wild, entangling bush. The depth of its color made my hand seem all the more pale. Its petals were so soft, so red, so alive. Unlike me. How I yearned for the warmth of life once more, pulsing through my body, coloring the ever fair apples of my cheeks. There was a time-I remember it with some difficulty, for I was young then, even to human standards-there was a time when I had the gift of mortality. Clenching the rose tightly in my hand, I pressed it to my breast and found my way to my chosen place in the deserted castle; a stone balcony overlooking the rest of the gronds and the forest that was slowly taking back the land that had been stolen from it all those years ago. 'For civilization!' they had probably said as they destroyed the ancient trees, ripped up the earth. 'For the betterment of mankind!' But such is how we-they; humans-always think, always have thought, and always will think. I find myself, as time goes on, slipping farther and farther from those thoughts, and more and more do I lose myself in thoughts seemingly not my own. I am losing myself, I think-sometimes all I do is think for hours at a time, possibly days; time slips by me so-and yet I cannot summon the will, the strength, the energy, to be afraid. I am only cold...only empty, forever empty. Though however devoid of life I may be, I will never die. I think one day I shall become merely a ghost, a wraith among these ruins in days when no one will remember my times; I barely remember them myself anymore. Possibly an explorer, someone young, will happen upon the castle in ten years, or a hundred, or a thousand, and will see me, just a lost figure of an eternally young woman, wandering, with no purpose or meaning. Just a figure-just a pale specter who turns haunted black eyes upon the world, but no longer thinks or acts or anything having to do with a free and unencumbered mind-I shall just wander.

Hurry! The moon is almost up

but quiet! oh so quiet-if you disturb the silence

of the Forest

we'll never find her.

There! By the edge of the trees, do you see?

A lone, slight figure

hardly more than another shadow in the night

Or so she'd like us to believe

Wait, now, until the moon's spell is complete

and she won't flee from our presence.

Ah, see now-she is tempted to step into the open,

into the caress of the silver light

but the forest retains its embrace

Step lightly now, but don't take your eyes off her

or you might lose her forever.

Now! As she steps forward, the shadows are

finally banished, and the soft light reveals her

a lithe, slender woman, a silver flame in

the moonlight,

the forest's heart come to life.

She lifts her face to the sky and

spreads her arms; the wind

twirls her long, dark hair into enigmatic designs

The grass ripples around her, beckoning to her,

and suddenly that's all the invitation she needs

Twirling, leaping, running, jumping,

her body pays a tribute to her ancient friends

The forest watches her protectively

but can no longer contain the spirit

that now dances in the light of the moon,

Her moon,

in a moment everlasting, of her own creation

a song wells up from the depths of

her soul,

and as she dances, the melody becomes a

part of Her, a part of the dance as well

its haunting notes echoing throughout eternity

sending the men back into their pasts

to a time of wildness, with strange, thick forests

and cold winds and enchantingly beautiful skies;

a time of beauty, savage beauty that haunts

one's soul

and makes your heart ache to think of it now

knowing that once you were a part of it,

connected to the land, an extension of it

but that tie has somehow been lost forever

leaving the men only able to watch as

the sun's rays break the silver silence

sending the svelte figure back into the

depths of Her forest,

its all-seeing light slowly drying the tears

that glisten on the men's faces.

He entered the tavern nonchalantly, the cloak draped about his shoulders more for looks than to ward against the night's crisp fall air. He didn't get cold often. His reddish-gold hair was pulled back into a short, neat ponytail. He seated himself at a small table, towards the side of the room, for once not near the fire crackling in the fireplace which most of the tavern's other occupants were seated around. How he loved fire. A young man came out of the kitchens to take his order. He asked for water. The boy looked at him a bit strangely, thinking, no doubt, who asked for water in a tavern? but went to get it anyway. Another person entered the tavern then, bundled up in a heavy coat. Waves of shining raven-black hair tumbled down past her shoulders as the woman removed her hood. Without looking around, she, too walked toward the small table at the side of the room. She seated herself across from the man without making a sound. She was still for a brief moment, then lifted her startingly blue eyes to rest her icy gaze on him.
"Vrien," she said in a soft, musical voice. It was not a question, but a statement. He smiled, acknowledging her.
"Shiva. I'm glad you came," he added, again with a smile.
"I didn't see more than one guard. Are the rest hiding?" she asked, raising one ebony eyebrow. He chuckled, amused.
"They aren't here to harm you, as you well know. Quite the contrary." She scoffed at this, but he did not rise to the bait.
"I assume that your guards are here as well," he mused, then shrugged. "I suppose our families would have it no other way."
"You suppose right," Shiva said. "How many times have they told me, never trust a solekado."
"But still you came."
"I am independent and fool-hardy. I came because they-and you-expected me not to," she shot back. Her sudden anger faded, and she looked at Vrien with her crystal eyes. "Let's get on with things, shall we?" she continued, calm, cool and collected once more. "Let's discuss the reason I am here."
"Yes, let's," Vrien replied.
"I sent you an invitation, in secret, to meet me here if you wanted to learn about my people, and the true threat to both of our races. I take it that since you came, you are interested." Shiva's sapphire eyes sparkled as she leaned forward.
"Yes, I'm very curious about your kind, enemies or no. I'm also very curious to hear what you think the 'true' threat is."
"Not 'what,'" Vrien corrected. "'Who.'" Shiva raised an eyebrow again, clearly wanting him to explain, but he went on.
"I'd like to take you on a tour of the palace, if you'd come." Shiva studied his face, her eyes taking in every detail.
"You're serious. You want me, a princess of your people's sworn enemy, to take a tour of the solekado palace?! I don't exactly think that your parents would be okay with that, you know what I mean?" Her melodic voice was incredulous and tinged with sarcasm, her favorite weapon. Vrien's trademark smile, mischievious and charming all at once, spread across his face.
"You forget that illusions are a specialty of my people. And I was the best in my class at the Academy." Shiva made a "tsk"-ing noise.
"Is that a boast?" Vrien's smile widened. "It would be, if it wasn't first a fact. Making you look like a solekado would be a simple matter. Making you and your entourage look like solekados would be a bit tougher. Creating enough trust between us so that you'll let me do all this, now that's the hard part." Shiva leaned back in her chair and studied his face once more, with eyes that practically glowed blue.
"And yet, for me even to come here implies that I have some faith in you." She considered her words a moment before adding: "How foolish of me." Vrien could only barely contain the grin that formed at her words. Becoming (at least somewhat) serious again, Vrien offered a compromise.
"Well then, let us try to expand upon that faith. What do you say you meet me here again, same time, in a week. We can discuss your hopeful trip to the palace more then, and maybe the idea will grow on you if you have more time to consider it." Shiva gave a wry smile.
"You mean you hope it'll grow on me, and if not, when we meet again in a week you'll use that honeyed tongue to convince me. Nonetheless, I agree to meet you here again. Who knows? Maybe we could just pull off this palace visit. And if we do...perhaps you could see my home too."
"I'd like that," Vrien said, standing up and adjusting his cloak. Shiva stood as well, her long black tresses hiding her face from the rest of the occupants of the tavern.
"Well then, Lady Shiva," he began, offering his hand, "I shall see you in one week." She eyed his hand warily, wondering what a solekado, the ancient enemy of her kind, would feel like. Not to mention what the punishment would be for touching, let alone talking to, a solekado. She almost laughed. She had always been the daring, defiant one. Bring it on, she thought as she shook his hand firmly. She was shocked to feel the natural warmth that emanated from his skin. Vrien was likewise astonished by how cool her hand was, but only said in all seriousness,
"I think we could learn a lot from each other." With that, they parted: her out the door first, then, ten minutes later, him.

Lanei lay restlessly in the small but comfortable bed, piled high with furs. The tent around her was dark, but she could see almost everything in it. The chest at the foot of her cot was for her personal effects, though she had put but a few things in it. A lantern was hung in the middle, high enough so that she wouldn’t hit her head on it, but could still reach it. Her surroundings, though easily recognizable, were still alien to her…which brought her back to the thoughts that had kept her awake all night. She had actually done it-she was actually here, in the heart of troll country, which for so many years-an innumerable amount-had been considered unapproachable territory. The mixed feelings of exultation, fear, excitement, anxiety and wonder that had assailed her when she first me her escorts still tumbled about in her mind, but they were slightly faded now, after a full day of meeting with the various chieftains of the troll nation. Though her command of their language was rudimentary, they respected her for learning it, and respect, she had quickly learned, was all-important in their society. Respect, pride, and honor, though important in any community, were especially emphasized in troll society.
For the umpteenth time, Lanei reviewed the day’s events in her mind. She had reached the newly assembled camp mid-morning, and was promptly shown her tent. A generously sized affair, it was circular, framed by wooden poles and covered in heavy furs. After she had a chance to examine her tent, deposit some of her things and change clothes, she was introduced to the troll chieftains. They were polite, if a little wary and somber, and much of the day was spent giving Lanei a tour around the encampment, explaining everything, giving her a few insights into troll society. Though she had studied what she could about them in her homeland, the information she sought was very limited, and even that was discovered with much effort. Luckily, her training as a Ranger proved useful, and Wildomar, the Rangers’ home, had most of the information she was able to get her hands on. While the preparations for the meeting were being taken care of, it was agreed that both Lanei and the troll chieftains would speak Common. However, when Lanei found an old book in an obscure corner of the Wildomar library that held the basics of the Troll language, she determined to learn as much as she could. Languages had always fascinated her, anyway.

Sing the song of my heart,

little bird

sing of it in the beats of your wings

in the wind rushing past

Sing for me, even when dark,

little bird

so that I will not grow cold and lonely

sing to me of what it was like once

and what could be again

sing to me of hope, of love, of laughter, of light

Sing to me of your trees, giants of the land

Sing for me when I cannot,

little bird

when my mind falters, and I threaten to fall

when I have become ensnared, trapped,

sing my song and I shall remember

my heart shall remember what it once was

Sing the song of my heart, little bird

and I shall come back to you.

Okay, I've finally done it: I've created my very own blog! No longer am I just a team member! So we'll see if this lasts...anyway, this blog is just a place for me to post my writing, a place to keep it safe in some aspects (I write most of my stuff on random pieces of paper...) and to share it with my friends and anybody else who happens upon it...Not to mention a place to unload my brain when it gets too full of emotions and confusing thoughts...So here's to the wonderful world of creative writing!