Beckon the Night

[The Dream Child]

Time had passed where the ribbons seemed more tattered now. More torn. The woman stood barefoot upon the dunes, thoughtful and withdrawn even as a crowd had kept with her.

They had heard tales of her, this strange woman that wore the ribbons about her wrists. Spilling, twisting, and coiling like threaded vines beckoning to be given to bloom.

Her emerald eyes still remained as unfathomable as the night held its own depth. Aged but still so disguised it all they had known. Some would call her bewitching... and some would be true.

Her life had been touched by many, her soul claimed by even more. From family to lovers to those that tried to claim her as their own. The gypsy had traveled a long way and now she walked a land she did not know. Perhaps it was for the best. Maybe, better this way.

It was a whisper of suggestion about the wind, a sigh within the trees... or perhaps just her mind playing tricks on her. Still she followed that whim. Trusting only herself and a rare companion that was more silent then communicative. More dangerous then trustworthy.

The one that only gave her name as "Tiger" glanced briefly at the gypsy before lips were licked, tasting at mediterranean winds.

"Far from home, perhaps we've come to far. Maybe it's best to turn back."

One could drown in those eyes. Pools of insanity some would write of... but the gypsy had come to know them as the most sane of eyes she ever had known. A fleeting smile, gone in a moment. A lightning strike of passion and personality.

"Perhaps... still... one canne be certain until one keeps te de path. De one... will come"

Chasing wild horses it would seem, the rest of the town that were not of their own, beach dwellers mainly, murmured uncertainty amongst themselves.

Perhaps it was just illbegotten luck that the gypsy had found herself standing still here... and waiting once again.

<font color="#a62a2a"><font size="1">[ February 17, 2007 03:27 PM: Message edited by: The Dream Child ]</font></font>

<font color="#a62a2a"><font size="1">[ February 21, 2007 12:23 PM: Message edited by: The Dream Child ]</font></font>

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ February 21, 2007 12:55 PM: Message edited by: The Dream Child ]</font>

[The Dream Child]

"This place... des not quite seem de same anemore."

Dark eyes flickered across the land she once had been so familiar with. A land she had left. Rhy'din it was known as, and the memories of the gypsy seemed to have buried themselves in the land she walked upon.

"We have come far, gypsy, what more can you expect?"

A gruff murmur from her companion, the quirked smirk of one that cared not for the land or its memories. Tiger had left much behind and did not wish to return on it. Still she had promised the gypsy to be her protector if so need be.

"We're hunting shadows."
"Mayhaps... or mayhaps legends... ne matte. Paths will cross. This I saw."

Head tipped back, in somber light the gypsy's eyes appeared to cast shadows across the true emerald shade of her eyes. Piercing depths of darkness they had become... brilliant in their tempting shadows. The gypsy had changed after all that had been done, all that had been taken from her.

Blood spilled, hearts broken, friends lost. So many dead.

Her fingers curled into fists, a shake of her head to rid herself of memories she could no longer leave herself to be haunted by. Such would make her weak. She was no longer the child that had left these lands.

"Come. We shall stay there for the nigh. I will dance if that is wha' it comes te."

A motion to a inn at the outskirts of Rhy'din, the air itself seemed to take a collective breath in... and waited.

<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ February 21, 2007 12:56 PM: Message edited by: The Dream Child ]</font>