Post by Nadja on Feb 19, 2009 4:01:24 GMT -5
How many times has she spoken of the darkness she felt looming over the lands and it's denizens? How many times has she whispered her concerns to friends? But none would listen to the little Gypsy, so wrapped up in their own little dilemas and personal situations. Many for the most part caloused and uncaring about those beyond their small privy circles.
Before the warmth of the hearth in her small shop, she sat huddled beneath a wool blanket and close to it's heat. Eyes that were once as dark as the moonless sky, now glimmer like the polished surface of an emerald as they reflect the dance of the firelight before her. Oh yes, she sensed it, she could almost feel the chill it emitted, as if it had taken on a physical form of a hand to caress her cheek and shoulder. A shiver rushes through her small frame, though it's not from the weather this is caused. Deaf ears, blind eyes, will soon learn the truth of what she's tried to tell all since her coming to the Port. Too late? Perhaps for them, perhaps for a great many it will be.
She had been spending every free moment working on potions and notions of the healing sort, along with her new found duties to the underground paper. Yet she always took the time to read the stars, listen to the whispers upon the wind, and the change in the sounds around her. Is she the only one who felt the changes deep in the core of their being? Will they befall as victims to the false sense of security the recent peace has made, feeling complacent and letting their guard down?
Slowly her eyes closed, the warmth of the fire kissed her cheeks and throat, It was then she began to concentrate, a sort of trance she befell into. Her body became lax as she leaned forward slightly to slump over the warm stones that created the hearths base. That tiny frame curled into a near fetal positon beneath the drap of that woolen cover. Her mind reached out ... moving through the room, then beyond the walls of her small shop. It was then that inner eye that seen beyond what normal sight would offer, as if on the wings of a raven, traveled. Over the snow covered streets, past darkened windows did she seem to fly. There was nothing for anyone to witness in this search put forth by the tiny Rom, for in passing it was nothing more than a drift of shadow captured by those who noticed such things.
High over the buildings her mind soared as she played witness to the going ons below her. Notations of movements in the darkness, watching those who worked under the cover of it's darkened shadows. Curosity may have been the inital cause of her actions this night, but there was a deeper drive that had her mind to wander in search. Continuing as long as she roamed undetected by those who might sense her ablity to seperate from her body to travel unbound.
It would be when she felt as if another had sensed her near, that the spirit of the Rom would quickly retreat. To return to the small figure that seemed to lay asleep before the fire. Much she had witnessed and that sense of dread could be felt deep inside. The darkness was closer than many would ever believe or realize, but the tiny Rom knew.
Before the warmth of the hearth in her small shop, she sat huddled beneath a wool blanket and close to it's heat. Eyes that were once as dark as the moonless sky, now glimmer like the polished surface of an emerald as they reflect the dance of the firelight before her. Oh yes, she sensed it, she could almost feel the chill it emitted, as if it had taken on a physical form of a hand to caress her cheek and shoulder. A shiver rushes through her small frame, though it's not from the weather this is caused. Deaf ears, blind eyes, will soon learn the truth of what she's tried to tell all since her coming to the Port. Too late? Perhaps for them, perhaps for a great many it will be.
She had been spending every free moment working on potions and notions of the healing sort, along with her new found duties to the underground paper. Yet she always took the time to read the stars, listen to the whispers upon the wind, and the change in the sounds around her. Is she the only one who felt the changes deep in the core of their being? Will they befall as victims to the false sense of security the recent peace has made, feeling complacent and letting their guard down?
Slowly her eyes closed, the warmth of the fire kissed her cheeks and throat, It was then she began to concentrate, a sort of trance she befell into. Her body became lax as she leaned forward slightly to slump over the warm stones that created the hearths base. That tiny frame curled into a near fetal positon beneath the drap of that woolen cover. Her mind reached out ... moving through the room, then beyond the walls of her small shop. It was then that inner eye that seen beyond what normal sight would offer, as if on the wings of a raven, traveled. Over the snow covered streets, past darkened windows did she seem to fly. There was nothing for anyone to witness in this search put forth by the tiny Rom, for in passing it was nothing more than a drift of shadow captured by those who noticed such things.
High over the buildings her mind soared as she played witness to the going ons below her. Notations of movements in the darkness, watching those who worked under the cover of it's darkened shadows. Curosity may have been the inital cause of her actions this night, but there was a deeper drive that had her mind to wander in search. Continuing as long as she roamed undetected by those who might sense her ablity to seperate from her body to travel unbound.
It would be when she felt as if another had sensed her near, that the spirit of the Rom would quickly retreat. To return to the small figure that seemed to lay asleep before the fire. Much she had witnessed and that sense of dread could be felt deep inside. The darkness was closer than many would ever believe or realize, but the tiny Rom knew.
