Two creatures lay in the lilac wood. Side by side they stretched out, stricken, virgin swan down that melted into one only to separate again out of respect for the shadows. One was a unicorn, and she was very beautiful even in stillness, the other a young woman, equally so. Neither moved, twitched, stirred.
Lir could not help but touch her, never mind the cries of "Don't!" even as he reached for her--Amalthea, his own. So far gone was he that he couldn't even place the exact origin of the voices as he placed her head in his lap and rocked her gently, crooning soft urgings to please awaken.
There is always another side to the coin, and on the side remaining was Koshayn. Gingerly he folded his delicate silver legs beneath his body, his nostrils quivering a heartbreaking rose pink as he nudged the comatose head of a mythical one-horned beast.
Eyes opened.
They were blue, and they were empty. They were alive, but they were expressionless, devoid of all emotion. A vacuum, a supernova, a black hole, sucking everything in and letting nothing escape.
Molly knew. Schmendrick knew. Koshayn knew. The deer and rabbits and owls knew. Lir, even, in the back of his mind where his sanity still found room even in this climactic moment, knew that the magic had indeed done as she would. And she didn't know what she would.
What could the magic do but split her into two beings? Amalthea and the unicorn could now live forked lives, the only logical conclusion that enchantment could derive from the fevered brain. But then the ultimate paradox: human enough to cry, unicorn enough to heal, the two could no longer be parted. The characteristics of each entity that was one existence were too intertwined for any one half to stand alone. All that could be left was a hollow shell of what once was, ghosts of memories flitting through troubled minds that could grasp and perhaps even understand but never speak.
One thing both recognized at once, even when nothing else registered beyond a blur of painful colors.
I cannot make it spring.
The body of a unicorn lived by the stream, and Koshayn cared for her there.
The form of a woman lived in a tower, and Lir cared for her there.
That which was Amalthea liked to look at the water, and at the foam, because something was somehow familiar about a ripple or a small wave, and that was comforting.
The sea filled an otherwise monotonous existence in which there was no conversation because there was no speech. The sea was never the same.
End of Paradox
yeah, yeah, that was long in coming. so... whatcha think? bad, good, so-so? should i run for a fire extinguisher and prepare to put out the flames? or should i get to work on the final section of the trilogy? ^_- that's right, i've an idea for a sequel to this sequel, one that would end -this- particular saga at the very least... we'll see. review? pleeeeeease?
Lir could not help but touch her, never mind the cries of "Don't!" even as he reached for her--Amalthea, his own. So far gone was he that he couldn't even place the exact origin of the voices as he placed her head in his lap and rocked her gently, crooning soft urgings to please awaken.
There is always another side to the coin, and on the side remaining was Koshayn. Gingerly he folded his delicate silver legs beneath his body, his nostrils quivering a heartbreaking rose pink as he nudged the comatose head of a mythical one-horned beast.
Eyes opened.
They were blue, and they were empty. They were alive, but they were expressionless, devoid of all emotion. A vacuum, a supernova, a black hole, sucking everything in and letting nothing escape.
Molly knew. Schmendrick knew. Koshayn knew. The deer and rabbits and owls knew. Lir, even, in the back of his mind where his sanity still found room even in this climactic moment, knew that the magic had indeed done as she would. And she didn't know what she would.
What could the magic do but split her into two beings? Amalthea and the unicorn could now live forked lives, the only logical conclusion that enchantment could derive from the fevered brain. But then the ultimate paradox: human enough to cry, unicorn enough to heal, the two could no longer be parted. The characteristics of each entity that was one existence were too intertwined for any one half to stand alone. All that could be left was a hollow shell of what once was, ghosts of memories flitting through troubled minds that could grasp and perhaps even understand but never speak.
One thing both recognized at once, even when nothing else registered beyond a blur of painful colors.
I cannot make it spring.
The body of a unicorn lived by the stream, and Koshayn cared for her there.
The form of a woman lived in a tower, and Lir cared for her there.
That which was Amalthea liked to look at the water, and at the foam, because something was somehow familiar about a ripple or a small wave, and that was comforting.
The sea filled an otherwise monotonous existence in which there was no conversation because there was no speech. The sea was never the same.
End of Paradox
yeah, yeah, that was long in coming. so... whatcha think? bad, good, so-so? should i run for a fire extinguisher and prepare to put out the flames? or should i get to work on the final section of the trilogy? ^_- that's right, i've an idea for a sequel to this sequel, one that would end -this- particular saga at the very least... we'll see. review? pleeeeeease?