blue_ajah: (Default)
[personal profile] blue_ajah
The Wheel of Time turns, and ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth returns again.

In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the mountains north of Arafel. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time.

But it was a beginning.


* * * * * * *

The wind blows steadily onward, sweeping down from the highest peaks and over the barren, stony surface of the lower mountainside. As it passes, a brightly-colored wisp of thread tumbles ahead of it, driven haphazardly over the ground by each uneven gust.

For all of its brightness, it is a ragged piece of thread, barely more than a loosely-gathered tangle of fibers; and yet, strangely, nothing seems to impede its passage. Once, as it fetches up against a boulder for a few seconds, the strands shimmer and seem to form into the near-translucent figure of a woman-- a shape lost to sight in the next instant as the wind gusts harder and tears the thread free.

Date: 2008-11-11 03:53 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (bird shadow)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
There are songbirds here, still, furtive and fluttering. Such a thread would make a fine addition to a nest, would work to fill in the gaps that leave creatures bare to the elements.

One particularly daring bird, small and brown, darts toward it, buffeted aside by--

kaw

--the heavy wings of a hungry black bird.

The little thread twirls higher, borne skyward by the updraft of beating wings.

It is no butterfly, but perhaps it will serve well enough.

The cousins often do.

Date: 2008-11-11 04:29 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (bird house)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
It is nothing at all like stepping between one place and another.

It is even less like reaching out to catch hold of a speck of dust, a grain of sand.

And yet there is a hand, and a wrist, and a tangle of bedraggled threads hanging from a timeworn sleeve.

And then there is nothing save the sky, and the stars, the harsh ringing cry of a black-feathered bird--

and the absence of a weight almost too great to bear.





The rest is silence, and the space between.

Date: 2008-11-11 05:05 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (bird silhouette light)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
Time passes.









Time always passes.








Save when it does not.

And in the dark and the silence, a whisper slowly grows louder. One voice, then five, then half a hundred.

And that selfsame spark flickers in a wind heralded by the rustle of feathers.

Flickers, and catches alight, though there is, in this lack-of-place, no wood to burn.

Date: 2008-11-11 05:19 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h inna shadows)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
There is another source of motion, shadow flickering in counterpoint to the light.

Something shifts, stirs, and resolves into the figure of a man.

Stretching behind him, soft-edged and deeper than the surrounding darkness, is his own shadow.

It has wings.

And when he tilts his head, the angle awkward and too-sharp, the voices fall silent.

It will not last.

It never does.

Date: 2008-11-12 02:10 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h really laughing)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
There is silence.

Time fails to pass.

Posture unchanging, Raven laughs.

The sound, bright and warm and--for this one moment, one moment out of all the others--free.

It fades but slowly. There is power in echoes.

"I am, I think, not so easily tricked as that, yes?"

Date: 2008-11-12 02:19 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h far away looking)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
The sand that isn't there shifts beneath their feet, and Raven takes one step forward.

"There are, I think, always tricks. Mostly they are not so much from you. Still."

The wind that fails to blow carries the sound of the sea with it.

The whispers return.

failed failed go down into the dust and ashes and forgot

"What you meant and what was done are not so much different. That, perhaps, is why you are for being."

He doesn't say 'here', and not just because it would be redundant.

Date: 2008-11-12 02:35 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h inna shadows)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
"And what was returned, perhaps, has also never left. Some things stick, yes? It is not a thing I forget."

He tilts his head in the other direction, watching her carefully.

The rest of him remains very still. Even the shadows.

Especially the shadows.

"There are always prices. Choices, too."

His smile is small, and crooked, and true.

"It is, I think, what I am for."

In part. The whole of it is another story.

A longer one.

Date: 2008-11-12 02:52 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h inna shadows)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
"That, I think, is mostly a question of how far back, yes?"

the beginning beginning beginnings are endings the end the end it ends

"Or possibly it is a different kind of forward. "

He fails to blink.

"And there is death. That, too, is not so difficult."

Date: 2008-11-12 03:06 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h far away looking)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
"This, I think, is not so much meant to be hard."

He reaches out--the gesture only careless on the surface--to ruffle her hair.

"Or a duty, yes?"

Date: 2008-11-12 03:40 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (h b&w stare)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
"I am, I think, not always so much for lying."

Not when there is no purpose in cruelty, at least.

Stealthily, while Moiraine is distracted with her own faded hand, Raven attempts to ruffle her hair again.

Because he can.

"Not here. Not to you. So."

Date: 2008-11-12 04:31 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (Power is a lonely thing)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
"Mostly not here, yes? Though it is, I think, like enough."

He grins, wide and bright and--as ever--full of teeth.

"Also there are other worlds. You will see."

Raven holds out one hand, head tilted, watching Moiraine.

"There is time."

Date: 2008-11-12 04:41 am (UTC)
creator_raven: (bird silhouette light)
From: [personal profile] creator_raven
"It will be better, I think, with cookies."







They take the shadows with them, when they go.

And the light.

It is always and ever so.

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Moiraine

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