The edges of the room began to dissipate as his vision swam with that familiar sensation of losing sight and gaining much more clarity in the same moment. The defined lines around him of the room now translucent before being entirely removed from his perception of reality as the question lingered in his mind. Became the focus of his limited gaze as the ever present surroundings yet unseen began to hum and glow with a life that many had never claimed to witness.
The warmth of the near black air tinted with a honeyed gold that wove its way around and through everything all around him. The points it tethered itself to were invisible for the time being as it began to fill the warm dark in every direction with a soft glow that brightened as he drew nearer to it.
It never failed to draw an awe-inspiring gasp out of him to once more see the tapestry of the world encompassing him.
Gauzy and blurred at first until he rose from his kneeling across what had once been an alabaster floor piece. Hard against the bone and cold even against the natural heat that filled him. Now perhaps changed to a pane of glass that held him upright in the expanse that contained only the glow of that vast and ceaseless Weave around him. The gold tint of his eyes was a poor imitation of the vibrance that deigned to be perceived by someone such as himself. It always amazed him to take in such a wondrous thing, to gaze into the stretched loom of life itself and observe what had spun itself into possibilities to be yet made real. The lids of his eyes drew together a bit more as he tried to distinguish the piece he sought. To silence the commanding question that resonated within his mind.
The gauzy film of the Weave like gathered tulle until his eyes had been forcibly focused with small gestures of a drawn brow. A slow process of focusing that left him beginning to dance on the edge of pain at the effort. A pressure formed with a full yet dull weight as if a hand had passed through the back of his skull and now settled against the backside of his eyes and sinus.
The radiant glow before him became defined and gave up the clearly drawn threads that diverged beyond a singular choice. A thrum of the request reforming into a solid drum beat as a twining of threads further down drew his studious gaze. A faint glow emitting from that gathering of threads, beckoning him closer in silent promise of the answers another sought. Answers that would release him from the hum of chaotic noise that began to grow with each step forward. As if the world these threads were tied to had begun to bleed into his perception with each avenue of action and the sounds of each encounter were playing out with only himself as a witness.
Here.
The only sound loud enough to remain solidly above the din of voices. Angry and pleased, blending into a formless, twisting dance of sound that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Until his finger finally settled on that singular point of meeting threads, and his vision shifted to a focused point in time. A time where choice mattered and set forth the path ahead of them all.
A familiar face formed in his sight, expression wearing a visage of abhorrence cast at a face unfamiliar and foreign to the silent watcher. An argument that devolved into an altercation. Unfeeling as the events played out and ended only when one life was snuffed out.
Pulled back into the Weave while the victorious party shambles away.
The question answered, it now danced on his lips as he was forcibly thrown back to the real. An unseen hand pulling him back as though he were an adolescent child. Collared and placed once more on those alabaster floors, kneeling again before the Ivory being that loomed above him unmoving as he remembered. Casting eyes down at him expectantly as had been done so many times prior. Impatience drawing out a twitch along her stern countenance and finally upsetting the placid line her lips had drawn that had held until he drew a ragged breath.
The sign of his return. The sign of an answer being plucked free and being prepared as his will was pushed aside. A compulsion extracting the words that waited to be shared from his mind.
He could no more resist it than the fall of rain. But he could direct it much like one could do with a rain chain.
He knew how the events would play out. The possibilities had been laid bare before him. Each witnessed on their own with a pace that barely allowed him to bat an eye. Everything captured in his mind and scorched into memory until the words of the brightest thread had been spoken. Only then would those possible avenues of the future eventually fade from his mind.
“The wolf from low slung plains will discover the regretful rabbit atop a dark hill.”
The words forcibly ejected from him as he skewed the words before they left his lips. A prophecy was never truly clear, but could be readily made clear by a clever mind. The only touch of control during this time he had was the spinning of those precious words.
“A passionate dance twixt them till the rabbit lays to rest.”
He would not share his uncles fate so readily. The meaning twisted as much as his compulsion would allow. The tingle of the only fire that could burn him wrapped round his tongue as he danced along the tenuous line of lie and omission.
Control over himself finally returned with a heaving gasp as if he'd never taken a breath in his long life prior. He could not be burned, nor could he ever truly be wanting for air. But his gift to glimpse the Weave seemed to pass beyond the blessings of the elements that were always about him. Stealing from him the ignorance of the only threats he need never worry about. Hacking with such force that he doubled over further before that ever present figure in his life. Finally breaking their statuesque stance to kneel down without ever letting anything more than their feet grace the ground.
The gown in all its opulence gathered round her in bubble like bunches before fanning out into lengthy displays of the material. His eyes not yet rising to acknowledge her presence but he could not ignore the reflection that he was presented.
He had never actually seen his mother kneel before another, or bend low beyond taking a seat without such a cause as this. Her grace was ever present while his eyes tried to find a non-existent fault in the floor to avoid meeting her gaze. To avoid allowing any kind of hint about his words meaning to slip free before he had collected himself.
The edge of her hand-fan came into view, an item she never found herself without in her daily life as the wooden edge bit into his chin before the subtly directing his gaze upward. To resist meant pain. Meant rebuking the one being that had forged ahead to drag those that carried her name upward in life and to spit on her efforts. His face lifted with no resistance, fighting through the feeling of that hand behind his eyes beginning to pull at the nerves connected there. Tears formed at the pain that came with visit into the place beyond. To steal a hint about what was to come cost him dearly, the hidden lines of those Ivory eyes that told him where his mothers gaze fell became less clear with each vision as he met her fierce stare with resignation and surrender.
His hands against the cool floor now clenched to allow a distraction from everything. To focus against the desire to cry out as pain slowly twisted in the back of his head. All the while his mother's eyes never strayed far from his glistening eyes. Watching for the signs only she had come to understand were telltale flickers of deceit in his words.
The fan that held his gaze aloft fell away from its resting place along his throat, allowing him to move freely as she stood and let her pleasure be known with a content sigh as her eyes moved to the fan.
“You have delivered as requested.” Her voice carried like a whip on the wind before she turned, her steps barely audible against the floor while she disappeared from his view. The room they occupied was large enough to accommodate a small banquet, but always seemed a favorite of Edlemina's to hear the result of her son's visions. In her own words, it made for a picturesque view. The warmth of the light reflected from the floor highlighting his face to detail every facet of his compulsory words. To highlight any attempt at falsehood and deception was his only assumption.
The fan she now held by the end, as if soiled and unworthy, was deposited atop a small curio into a low, wife bowl. The curio sat astride the door leading into the true dining hall beyond as the bowl clacked before a drawer was pulled open.
Their estate was still fairly new in their eyes given they had only resided here a few centuries.
The splendor of its interior was still a fresh topic of feigned admiration while guests were present for discussions of the latest fashion and potential designs in the industry going forward. Along with the possible accessories one might wish to see made for such extravagance. A matter ever present in his mothers life given the influence the Fellovenius family held in the acquisition of such materials as gold and gems.
“Sable.”
The warmth of the near black air tinted with a honeyed gold that wove its way around and through everything all around him. The points it tethered itself to were invisible for the time being as it began to fill the warm dark in every direction with a soft glow that brightened as he drew nearer to it.
It never failed to draw an awe-inspiring gasp out of him to once more see the tapestry of the world encompassing him.
Gauzy and blurred at first until he rose from his kneeling across what had once been an alabaster floor piece. Hard against the bone and cold even against the natural heat that filled him. Now perhaps changed to a pane of glass that held him upright in the expanse that contained only the glow of that vast and ceaseless Weave around him. The gold tint of his eyes was a poor imitation of the vibrance that deigned to be perceived by someone such as himself. It always amazed him to take in such a wondrous thing, to gaze into the stretched loom of life itself and observe what had spun itself into possibilities to be yet made real. The lids of his eyes drew together a bit more as he tried to distinguish the piece he sought. To silence the commanding question that resonated within his mind.
The gauzy film of the Weave like gathered tulle until his eyes had been forcibly focused with small gestures of a drawn brow. A slow process of focusing that left him beginning to dance on the edge of pain at the effort. A pressure formed with a full yet dull weight as if a hand had passed through the back of his skull and now settled against the backside of his eyes and sinus.
The radiant glow before him became defined and gave up the clearly drawn threads that diverged beyond a singular choice. A thrum of the request reforming into a solid drum beat as a twining of threads further down drew his studious gaze. A faint glow emitting from that gathering of threads, beckoning him closer in silent promise of the answers another sought. Answers that would release him from the hum of chaotic noise that began to grow with each step forward. As if the world these threads were tied to had begun to bleed into his perception with each avenue of action and the sounds of each encounter were playing out with only himself as a witness.
Here.
The only sound loud enough to remain solidly above the din of voices. Angry and pleased, blending into a formless, twisting dance of sound that threatened to overwhelm his senses. Until his finger finally settled on that singular point of meeting threads, and his vision shifted to a focused point in time. A time where choice mattered and set forth the path ahead of them all.
A familiar face formed in his sight, expression wearing a visage of abhorrence cast at a face unfamiliar and foreign to the silent watcher. An argument that devolved into an altercation. Unfeeling as the events played out and ended only when one life was snuffed out.
Pulled back into the Weave while the victorious party shambles away.
The question answered, it now danced on his lips as he was forcibly thrown back to the real. An unseen hand pulling him back as though he were an adolescent child. Collared and placed once more on those alabaster floors, kneeling again before the Ivory being that loomed above him unmoving as he remembered. Casting eyes down at him expectantly as had been done so many times prior. Impatience drawing out a twitch along her stern countenance and finally upsetting the placid line her lips had drawn that had held until he drew a ragged breath.
The sign of his return. The sign of an answer being plucked free and being prepared as his will was pushed aside. A compulsion extracting the words that waited to be shared from his mind.
He could no more resist it than the fall of rain. But he could direct it much like one could do with a rain chain.
He knew how the events would play out. The possibilities had been laid bare before him. Each witnessed on their own with a pace that barely allowed him to bat an eye. Everything captured in his mind and scorched into memory until the words of the brightest thread had been spoken. Only then would those possible avenues of the future eventually fade from his mind.
“The wolf from low slung plains will discover the regretful rabbit atop a dark hill.”
The words forcibly ejected from him as he skewed the words before they left his lips. A prophecy was never truly clear, but could be readily made clear by a clever mind. The only touch of control during this time he had was the spinning of those precious words.
“A passionate dance twixt them till the rabbit lays to rest.”
He would not share his uncles fate so readily. The meaning twisted as much as his compulsion would allow. The tingle of the only fire that could burn him wrapped round his tongue as he danced along the tenuous line of lie and omission.
Control over himself finally returned with a heaving gasp as if he'd never taken a breath in his long life prior. He could not be burned, nor could he ever truly be wanting for air. But his gift to glimpse the Weave seemed to pass beyond the blessings of the elements that were always about him. Stealing from him the ignorance of the only threats he need never worry about. Hacking with such force that he doubled over further before that ever present figure in his life. Finally breaking their statuesque stance to kneel down without ever letting anything more than their feet grace the ground.
The gown in all its opulence gathered round her in bubble like bunches before fanning out into lengthy displays of the material. His eyes not yet rising to acknowledge her presence but he could not ignore the reflection that he was presented.
He had never actually seen his mother kneel before another, or bend low beyond taking a seat without such a cause as this. Her grace was ever present while his eyes tried to find a non-existent fault in the floor to avoid meeting her gaze. To avoid allowing any kind of hint about his words meaning to slip free before he had collected himself.
The edge of her hand-fan came into view, an item she never found herself without in her daily life as the wooden edge bit into his chin before the subtly directing his gaze upward. To resist meant pain. Meant rebuking the one being that had forged ahead to drag those that carried her name upward in life and to spit on her efforts. His face lifted with no resistance, fighting through the feeling of that hand behind his eyes beginning to pull at the nerves connected there. Tears formed at the pain that came with visit into the place beyond. To steal a hint about what was to come cost him dearly, the hidden lines of those Ivory eyes that told him where his mothers gaze fell became less clear with each vision as he met her fierce stare with resignation and surrender.
His hands against the cool floor now clenched to allow a distraction from everything. To focus against the desire to cry out as pain slowly twisted in the back of his head. All the while his mother's eyes never strayed far from his glistening eyes. Watching for the signs only she had come to understand were telltale flickers of deceit in his words.
The fan that held his gaze aloft fell away from its resting place along his throat, allowing him to move freely as she stood and let her pleasure be known with a content sigh as her eyes moved to the fan.
“You have delivered as requested.” Her voice carried like a whip on the wind before she turned, her steps barely audible against the floor while she disappeared from his view. The room they occupied was large enough to accommodate a small banquet, but always seemed a favorite of Edlemina's to hear the result of her son's visions. In her own words, it made for a picturesque view. The warmth of the light reflected from the floor highlighting his face to detail every facet of his compulsory words. To highlight any attempt at falsehood and deception was his only assumption.
The fan she now held by the end, as if soiled and unworthy, was deposited atop a small curio into a low, wife bowl. The curio sat astride the door leading into the true dining hall beyond as the bowl clacked before a drawer was pulled open.
Their estate was still fairly new in their eyes given they had only resided here a few centuries.
The splendor of its interior was still a fresh topic of feigned admiration while guests were present for discussions of the latest fashion and potential designs in the industry going forward. Along with the possible accessories one might wish to see made for such extravagance. A matter ever present in his mothers life given the influence the Fellovenius family held in the acquisition of such materials as gold and gems.
“Sable.”