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witchscauldronThere is a wide open plain, grasslands dried bare and golden. winter grass. Rising in the middle is a huge hill, flat at the top. Strange outcropping.
People are standing in the grass, milling around. I ask why. This is their place, they say. Nowhere else to go. I look at the top of the hill, waving blades of gold over rock shimmering under twilight. I want to go there, suddenly, to see more... I ask why no-one climbs the hill.
Forbidden. Not allowed.
This just makes me want to climb the hill more. Contrary.
I climb to the top of the hill. An easy climb, albeit one that has its own perils underfoot. Some others see me climb, and try. They fall to the plain again, bleeding and silent.
Interesting.
I stare out at the plain, now a waving golden-silvered sea of grass and faint starlight, and watch the moon rise. I am interrupted, shouted at. Two "angels", Aryan in their white-blond and stark blue colouring, seem very displeased that I am there.
Go back to the plain, fool, they say. This place is not for you.
Not for me? I have a key. I show them this, and they are taken aback...for all of 10 seconds. Then they insist it must be a clever fake, and I have no place there. I have stolen the wings of Ur-iel, somehow, and I am defiling something there.
I smile bitterly, with my teeth. Why shouldn't I be there? I know my wings show now, black and iridescent. I know I bear a jagged corona of crimson light spiked in black. I know my key is acceptable. I too serve a deity. I defile nothing but their own sense of purity.
Red and black vrs. white and blue again. Old dreams...I become aware of the connection at that point.
I turn to ignore the angels, and contemplated the space beneath me...and recieve a vicious pain across the back. I wheel in fury, blazing divine anger, to see the energy fading from the hands of one, and it gathering about another. I rage...we battle. Noone wins. They leave, driven away by black spear. I stay, watching. I embrace pain, refusing to leave.
I awake, and suck breath sharply - my back is a knot of tangled, angry muscle that makes me weep.
-M.
People are standing in the grass, milling around. I ask why. This is their place, they say. Nowhere else to go. I look at the top of the hill, waving blades of gold over rock shimmering under twilight. I want to go there, suddenly, to see more... I ask why no-one climbs the hill.
Forbidden. Not allowed.
This just makes me want to climb the hill more. Contrary.
I climb to the top of the hill. An easy climb, albeit one that has its own perils underfoot. Some others see me climb, and try. They fall to the plain again, bleeding and silent.
Interesting.
I stare out at the plain, now a waving golden-silvered sea of grass and faint starlight, and watch the moon rise. I am interrupted, shouted at. Two "angels", Aryan in their white-blond and stark blue colouring, seem very displeased that I am there.
Go back to the plain, fool, they say. This place is not for you.
Not for me? I have a key. I show them this, and they are taken aback...for all of 10 seconds. Then they insist it must be a clever fake, and I have no place there. I have stolen the wings of Ur-iel, somehow, and I am defiling something there.
I smile bitterly, with my teeth. Why shouldn't I be there? I know my wings show now, black and iridescent. I know I bear a jagged corona of crimson light spiked in black. I know my key is acceptable. I too serve a deity. I defile nothing but their own sense of purity.
Red and black vrs. white and blue again. Old dreams...I become aware of the connection at that point.
I turn to ignore the angels, and contemplated the space beneath me...and recieve a vicious pain across the back. I wheel in fury, blazing divine anger, to see the energy fading from the hands of one, and it gathering about another. I rage...we battle. Noone wins. They leave, driven away by black spear. I stay, watching. I embrace pain, refusing to leave.
I awake, and suck breath sharply - my back is a knot of tangled, angry muscle that makes me weep.
-M.
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no subject
Date: 2003-12-31 06:11 pm (UTC)Hmmm... I wonder, why Uriel?
Works for me though. I know whose side I'm on. ; )
I dunno, these angels sound like they've forgotten that the mountain is for everyone. Greedy creatures. Or maybe just lacking in memory.
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Date: 2003-12-31 10:32 pm (UTC)http://members.xoom.virgilio.it/katrinchen/volume3/brom_uriel.jpg
We sort of gave each other a very respectful distance.
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Date: 2004-01-01 12:23 am (UTC)Some of Brom's work I find to be kinda of unpleasant looking, but his style really lends itself to certain things, in my mind. Beautiful picture.
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Date: 2003-12-31 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-31 10:07 pm (UTC)-M.