Difference between revisions of "TheHoverpope/Aile"

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(Arama, 3rd circle of Hegra (Worst one I wrote.))
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=== Aile, the Dream that Does not End. ===
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===Arama, the End of Success===
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Aile was a dream of Hegra long ago, when she slept in the clouds. When she woke, she had not yet kissed the ground. Aile is the nightmare of entrapment, of the endless fall towards an uncaring ground or of the slow sinking into sucking mud. It is the knowledge that one cannot help oneself, that one is inexorably, endlessly approaching one's end which will never mercifully come. It is the dying of hope, the concept that all of one's action will be in vain; one cannot strike at a fall from the sky, one cannot talk oneself out of drowning, all that one can do is fail to bear it.
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Arama was a dream of Hegra long ago, when she slept among masters of an art. When she woke, their art was in ruins and they wept. Arama is the absence of skill, the failure of everything that one knows. It is the swordmaster who cannot hold his blade, the scholar who sees that they cannot read. It is an ultimate failure of ability, the sort that shakes the soul. It is the inability to help oneself not because of an oppressing force, but because of insufficiency, because of uselessness, and that is what makes it so terrible.
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Aile appears to the eyes as a bloated corpse, a body that has drowned and only by death and the workings of decomposition can rise again to the surface to breathe. It's speech is in whispers, the cadences of which kill hope, and its presence will kill ambition. It may sometimes also appear as the acrid smell that surrounds the storm of Hegra.
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Arama appears as a being of perfect ability; it is the contrast with her victims that sharpens the sting. She is beautiful, she is swift, her movements are sure and precise, and her words carry poetry with every sound. Those around her find that they move like wounded animals and their speech is as a drunkard, incompetent and confused. Arama may also appear as snow that falls from Hegra, perfect flakes that leave the things they touch marred.
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It may draw its victims to a pocket of elsewhere, one that is bottomless, one that is full of water with the ripple of light just visible above, one of tar sucking at feet. The victims will never die, kept alive unnaturally, but will not free themselves, though should they somehow accomplish it, they will find themselves free. Those unfortunate beings in her nightmares will lie perfectly still, unmoving and resigned to their fate, their eyes wide open and staring at nothing.
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Arama may scourge away the abilities of others and take them as her own, leaving those her powers touch incapable of everything they know. Those unfortunates trapped in her nightmares twist and turn about but their movements are meaningless.

Revision as of 04:16, 19 April 2006

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Arama, the End of Success

Arama was a dream of Hegra long ago, when she slept among masters of an art. When she woke, their art was in ruins and they wept. Arama is the absence of skill, the failure of everything that one knows. It is the swordmaster who cannot hold his blade, the scholar who sees that they cannot read. It is an ultimate failure of ability, the sort that shakes the soul. It is the inability to help oneself not because of an oppressing force, but because of insufficiency, because of uselessness, and that is what makes it so terrible. Arama appears as a being of perfect ability; it is the contrast with her victims that sharpens the sting. She is beautiful, she is swift, her movements are sure and precise, and her words carry poetry with every sound. Those around her find that they move like wounded animals and their speech is as a drunkard, incompetent and confused. Arama may also appear as snow that falls from Hegra, perfect flakes that leave the things they touch marred. Arama may scourge away the abilities of others and take them as her own, leaving those her powers touch incapable of everything they know. Those unfortunates trapped in her nightmares twist and turn about but their movements are meaningless.

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