Exile

[Hern]

[center]It’s all faded into inconsistancies. A blur of color, a faint, yet familiar sound. My senses are dulled to non exsistance, and thoughts have slowed to a sloths pace. Every so often there will be a glimer of recognition of what I really am, what I’m really about, but then, as everything else has, it will fade back into the gaping maw that is the void.

The void really isn’t that terrible. It’s....nothing really.

It’s the brief moments of sensation that hurt. It’s then I realize what I’ve lost, and scramble desperatly to retreive it, but then they fade as it always does. Life once again becomes a blur, and moments are hard to discern from other moments, and months are harder to remember.

I had sensations today though...it was wonderful the moments it lasted.

I could see the torches dancing and flickering in the breeze. The air smelled of autumn, yet felt like spring. A few Fire Flies blinked their random patterns against the night sky. Pebbles would skitter down the cobblestones, kicked by my boots, and I could, at that moment, see why this place was once charming. Why it once held mystery, and why, while one is far away, it holds fond memories, of baking bread and the soft loeing of prized cattle.

Then the sense fades.

I’m thrown back into a world of bright, cruel light. A light I’ve never been accustomed to. My sight fogs over, and then I go through the motions once again. At night the severity fades a bit, and allows dreams to slip their way into my uncouncioiusness. I wrap myself in their comfort, and drift away to the lands only they can take me.

The light always returns though, and I struggle desperatly to hold onto the dreams. In the dim light of conciousness I always believe I will remember the fantasies, but as everything else does, they fade into the void sooner or later.

Someday,
~Wryn Fantóme [/center]


Naomi roused from her restless sleep, pulling chestnut hair off her face. Faint sounds wafted from the market square through the closed shutters, and the shuffling of the household could be heard below. She lay there for a moment looking at the slightly faded canopy overhead. Blinking a few times, she felt like she had just wandered through a complicated maze without even coming close to the center. Images from her recent dreams were fading even as she rose, and the forms disappeared before her robe was even on. Naomi sighed as she poured water into the basin. She leaned over the stand and splashed some over her face. The door squealed a bit as Shanda, the maid, slipped into the room.

"Good morning miss, did you sleep well?"

"Not a wink, Shanda. The dreams are still plaguing my sleep."

"You'd best not let your father know, miss. You know what happened last time."

"Yes...and I have no intentions on doing so. You may bring my breakfast now."

Naomi slipped into brooding as she dismissed her maid. She tightened the silk sash to her dark blue robe and opened the slotted shutters to her balcony. Padding from the rich wood to the balcony she could feel the temperature change. The sun was just starting to rise to its mid-morning position, warming the stone beneath her feet. Wandering over a table and plush chair, she sat beneath a canopy of fragrent summer flowers that climbed over the frame of a wooden awning.

From this vantage point she could see the merchent's square, which was the border between the Middle city and the High city. She was never certain exactly where her family's house stood on the invisible status boundry. Tolerated and lothed by both she supposed. Naomi sat in her trained position with her hands folded in her lap and watched as the crowed passed below her.

The mediterranean breeze brought the accrid smell of sea accompanied by the faint, yet tangy flavor of salt. A songbird perched in the awning, crying his heart out to a potential mate and Shanda slipped into her sanctuary. Her maid placed the eggs and fruit in front of her and just as quickly as she appeared she slipped right back out. It was an unintended clue that her father was on the way.

Naomi exhailed, composing herself as the large, olived skin man came striding in. Steely gray streaked his coal black hair and a square jaw jutted from his face. He sat, militant and imposing in front of her in his unforgiving way.

"Good morning my dear. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes father, quite well in fact, though I am quite restless to start our planning for the festival."

"Patientce my dear, patientce. Finish your breakfast and Marco will escort you."

Naomi's father left as quickly as he came and once again Naomi was left with her own thoughts, dreading the on coming festival. To many things were to come that were not left to her own decisions.




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