Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

Dark, smoldering eyes peered curiously at a scroll, a flowing calligraphy of script penned with utmost care onto the thick parchment. He could tell it was of the highest quality; the paper was smooth like fine linen or perhaps, silk. Under a head of messy hair, fair in color and even fairer with the splotches of sunlight falling upon the silken strands, a pair of fox ears peaked out curiously. They were a shade or two darker than his hair and they twitched with the same inquisitiveness he felt towards the scroll.

The sounds of the forest echoed around him and to him, this place was good and had always been so. He did not know why the air here seemed cleaner, more substantial, why the water tasted sweeter and why the earth felt familar and soothing. He is content here.

So why did the appearance of a mere piece of paper bother him so much? Why did it provoke a feeling of discomfort?

He scanned the scroll as quickly as he could, eyes flying across the parchment as he absorbed what it said. He read it again, to be sure he had not misunderstood. Though there was no proof, he was sure the beautifully written words were referring to him. This is his domain. Here, he knows everything and he knows nothing.

The paper will take him away. The paper will send him to the earth and the heavens.

This he knows.

But he does not knows why. He does not know how or even when. He only knows his place is no longer his and he has a new place waiting for him. His three bells, hanging on a cord around his neck, tinkle ominously.

In an instant, vines of ki snaked around him and he could feel a tendril of it burn a painful path across his left cheek and over the bridge of his nose. A primitive, primal howl worked its way up his throat and past his clenched teeth. As quickly as it came, it faded and he was left disoriented and confused for a few moments afterward.

Slowly, he gathered his wits and found that the scroll was still in his hand. With his other hand, he touched his face lightly and traced the trail the ki had taken. Glancing down at the scroll in his hand once more, he exhaled a breath he didn't know he had been holding. So that was it.


_____________________________________________________

He has seen the life before death,
The death after life,
And the life after death.

He is the fox.

Reborn.

Her hair, like a brilliant curtain of light contained in strands -- rather like moonlight at its brightest, one might fancy thinking -- fell over the smooth skin of her shoulders. Perhaps there was a time ago -- a long, long time ago, you think -- that you thought this girl intimidating, that you found her eyes strange because you could see the gray storm in them. These eyes were powerful, but hard to approach. And they still are, in their own beautiful-not-of-this-world way. Except now, when she comes close, those gray eyes -- not so scary now...pretty really -- melt with warmth and her lips smile a kind smile and you know that this is why you are her friend. This is why that old, familar fear does not rear its unwanted head and you are still here.

Here, with her, with them, with people out of your reach.

The whip in her hand -- oh the whip, the whip; you remember a time when that whip scared you to death -- lays curled and obedient. She never uses it. She's never had the need to. It is as if people just need to bestow but a glance on her and they forget all disrespectful thoughts. She is inspiring. The people who are her friends are inspiring. All except you, the little and insignificant girl in that dark corner, the one with no talents other than scribbling things in an old notebook with a soon-to-run-out-ink pen. But still, she smiles when she sees you, and she introduces you to her friends and they too, smile at you. They smile at the scared little girl who can only offer them ink smudged papers with quickly written down ideas and stories.

They are still smiling.

You wonder at their splendor, at all the sparkles that no doubt surround them, and in the smallest, deepest corner of your heart, you think that these people are friends that you hope to never let go of. It is a forbidden hope, for it is because you admire them so, you look up to them so, that you hate yourself for ever wanting to restrain them -- to chain them with the burden that is yourself.

But she's smiling again, nodding her head to this song that she likes and she is warm and soft and she is your friend. And even if it's for just a little bit, you think it alright...

... Alright to reach a little higher and let yourself stay with these shining stars. Just a little bit longer. Just a little bit.

For now -- just for now -- this moment, surrounded by smiles and warmth, it is enough. For now, you can smile with them, because they are all smiling back at you. And they are all smiling because the one with moonlight for hair and gentle rainstorm clouds in her eyes smiled at you first.

You can smile because she smiled first.