Oracle Child [open] « Thread Started on Oct 9, 2006, 6:53pm »
For all the cold weather and dreary setting, the gardens were always eerily beautiful. Grey clouds were strewn across the sky; chaotic rains and winds only adding to the autumn weather. The drizzle had broken, however, and along with it a space in teh sky and opened. Clouds parted, allowing a stream of pale sunlight to break through and fall upon a patch within the Western corner of the gardens.
An elabourte, weather-worn bench sat on a cobble stone pathway, covered in frost. The paint was cracked and peeling, though frozen in place by lingering frozen water. An evergreen tree was carefully manicured behind the bench, ground covering creeping between the fallen needles. A patch of snow white flowers grew just out of reach of the tree's needles, dozens of the blooms opened and growing. There was a faint, sweet scent that they radiated through out the close proximity.
On the edge of the garden, next to the bench, a small child sat and ran her hands over the velvety petals. Her head was bowed, long white hair drapping over her pale face. Her clothing was neither dirty nor rags, nor rich and elabourate. They just were, and pale, like a dressing gown of someone who had frequently been ill.
A slender, small hand plucked a flower and twirled it between her hands. One by one, the many petals were plucked off. As the child did this, she sung a haunting yet beautiful tune beneath her breath. It was soft, nearly a whisper, and in the sickeningly innocent voice of a little girl. She seemed oblivious to the world around her, without a care, and yet severely out of place.
Yeah, sure you're serious. And who am I? The king of Norway?
Joined: Sept 2006 Posts: 24 Location: None of your business
Re: Oracle Child [open] « Reply #1 on Oct 15, 2006, 7:13pm »
Damien was wondering in the Inclemancy himself. Sneaking around mostly. Sneaking meaning that he really wasn't supposed to be there but what the heck was wrong with it? He did kind of have a reason to being here and if anyone found him wandering around, the poet could just say he was lost and give the reason why he was there.
The reason or, rather, excuse for this librarian being there was that the Marquise had asked him to at least try to write a good poem in honor of the former Marquis. Damien's only hope on the matter was that whoever found him would believe his story. Well, he was a poor librarian wandering about the place that he wasn't even allowed in.
A haunting, yet melodious voice reached Damien's ear and he stood, swaying softly on the spot. His eyelids drooped for a moment before rising again. He had to keep his mind clear. For now, at least. Slowly, the man followed the soft voice. It seemed that the song, whatever it was, made the gardens even more hauntingly beautiful than usual.
The librarian reached the singer at last. It was a girl. A plain, little girl. Her hair was oddly colored and she seemed very out of place, but she was also quite comfortable with where she was at the same time. Damien approached her slowly, sitting behind the girl in a cross-legged style. The young man didn't want to startle her, so he just sat and listened, observing her soft, yet swift, movements.
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