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 Post subject: Bloody Rose - 1
 Post Posted: Mon Jan 22, 2018 5:08 pm 
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This user is a Tool! This user was a Tool before it was cool Pin-up Calendar and New Art Team Supporter Here for the 10th Anniversary Has collected at least one unit Erfworld Bicycle® Playing Cards supporter Was an active Tool on Free Cards Day
Joined: Mon Aug 17, 2009 2:54 pm
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Gedde Anne popped into an explosion of warm sunlight on her face, cool crisp air pushed by a slight breeze, and the feel of wild grass and solid Erf beneath her feet. Opening her eyes was a secondary explosion of color and brightness hitting her brain for the first time.

Her first breath exhilarated at the feel of the spark of life and the heft of matter synergizing perfectly within her. That breath brought smell too, the sweet scents of wildflowers, the strong depths of alfalfa from the high meadow grasses, the crisp Erfy smell of tubers growing in the soil.

Life! So precious!

Her second breath connected her to the view of a low rolling valley before her rising slowly up to snow covered peaks in the distance, all under a brilliant blue sky.

She burst out laughing from the pure deliciousness of it all, throwing her arms out and spinning around until she was dizzy, feeling her feet spin across the rough blades of grass she pressed into the dirt. It didn’t hurt the soles of her feet, and she knew exactly how to walk across grasslands and forest lands and rocky hardscrabble lichen-covered lands with her bare feet feeling the life beneath them.

She stopped spinning and her joy suddenly sank as her eyes registered lifeless stone and timber castle just a stone’s throw away. She was too close to take it all in, but she was struck by the contrast of her first breath of the wildness of life smashing up against the dead hulk of stone structures and lifeless beams that she knew to be her new home.

At just that moment she was buffeted by what felt like blasts of air from above and behind her.

Turning and ducking reflexively she froze, finding herself face to face with some kind of flying beast. Its huge head was all she could see, with some wing movement in her periphery. Brown and red and blue and yellow, it was brightly colored, with the darkest of black eyes. She was afraid for just a moment, but her fascination with the coloring patterns and the vibrancy of flesh and wingbeat calmed her, and she could feel its curiosity and lack of aggression. The beast sniffed curiously at her, and smiled at her (baring huge white block teeth). She giggled.

It nudged her, knocking her back a step. She giggled again and reached out to pet the rough hide of its nose and muzzle. It smiled again, and gave a snort like it wanted to stay, but lifted back towards the sky. She watched it go, marveling at the glow of its inner workings compelling its sinews and heartbeats to thrive and strive, but moreso at the power and aggressive potential coiled inside its current peaceful (but ready) state.

She noticed that she was sad to see it go. She would have loved to pet it more and explore the lifebeat she felt inside of it. She knew it wanted to play, and she knew she loved to dance.

Neither would happen today, she feared.

For many peaceful moments she stood rooted with her toes scrunching down into dirt, grass, and the smallest of things, and watched the beast gain altitude till turning into a long lazy circling glide.

‘Thunderbird’, she knew it to be. Her side’s heavy flyers. ‘It must be patrolling,’ she thought. Still sad, she spoke out loud what she knew to be true. “Duty before pleasure….”

In the next moment she felt a command from her ruler. She must go find her king. Her heart broke just a little as she turned her back on the green fields and wild hills and started walking towards the castle main gate.

Taking what solace she could from the feel of grass between her toes and pebble and soil underneath her feet and the constant life in the dirt below her before who knows how long on floors of stone and dead wood, she spoke just loud enough for her to hear herself whisper what she already knew to be the tragedy of her casting class, “Duty before pleasure. Duty before life.”

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