Alanna of Trebond (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_lioness) wrote2004-12-13 04:19 pm
the_lioness) wrote2004-12-13 04:19 pm
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[OOC: Out-of-Milliways post from yesterday. This took place between her conversation with young Peter and the events of last night.]
Alanna meanders down Market Way, absently tossing an orange into the air. For the first time in her life, the riotous colors and intoxicating smells of market day are completely lost on her. She stares directly ahead, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. The simplest tasks are suddenly difficult and require all of her attention, or at least that’s what she stubbornly tells herself. If she has to focus intently on something as mundane as walking, then there is no room left for thoughts of Peter. Cursing, she ducks down an alley and hurls the orange against the wall of a renowned tavern. She watches the fruit splatter, juice spraying in every direction. Strangely appeased, Alanna sighs and continues on toward the palace.
The dark circles under her eyes attest to the night spent sitting by the fire, her back against the wall and knees drawn up to her chest. Afraid that she might give into temptation and try to see Peter with her Gift, Alanna had avoided staring directly into the flames. Hour after hour, she watched the candle by her bed burn lower and the shadows shift across the cold floor. For once, the maddening silence had proved oddly comforting. In the morning, she simply stood up, dusted herself off and went about her business.
She feels like she has been half alive all day.
Stomping her feet against the cold, Alanna reminds herself that she doesn’t have any more time for the pain. Val said there must be a reason. Val is usually right. The Goddess doesn’t act arbitrarily, does she? She would see Peter again.
Wouldn’t she?
Frowning, Alanna clasps her hands behind her back and glares at a nearby pickpocket currently sizing her up. Give it a try, boyo, she thinks. Apparently deciding to take the dangerous gleam in her eyes seriously, the thief winks and melts back into the shadows. Lost in thought, Alanna continues past the Temple of the Great Mother Goddess and up the hill toward the City Gate. A knight leaving Corus for Border Patrol gives her a cursory glance as he trots by, his war horse outfitted in full battle regalia. Alanna knows he would never recognize her as the Lioness in her current state. Dirty boots, dusty clothes, and her old black wig hide her identity almost as effectively as the quiet sadness she wears like a cloak.
Alanna pauses under the wall near the City Gate, looking up at a scarlet and gold standard flapping in the breeze. Her tongue sticks out the side of her mouth as she gets a foothold and shimmies up the wall a few feet. A childhood spent climbing trees among the forbidding forests of the Grimhold Mountains is not soon forgotten. Hand shielding her eyes from the bright winter sun, Alanna stares through a crack in the Palace wall. To her delight, the stable yard looks mostly deserted. She jumps off the wall and sneaks in the Gate beside a cart full of ducks and venison designated for the evening feast.
Head down, Alanna crosses the stable yard, automatically avoiding the perpetually loose cobblestones near the wall. She inhales deeply upon entering the stables, relishing the familiar smells of hay, leather and horse. At least some things remain constant. After searching for Stefan to no avail, Alanna moves down the row of stabled horses, wondering which one she dare take. She smiles fondly when she spies Jon’s horse and pauses to scratch his soft nose. Are you taking care of our King, my friend? Darkness sniffs her hand, undoubtedly wondering what happened to the orange. Alanna rubs her forehead against his and continues on. Jon would murder her if she rode Darkness without his permission.
Beginning to despair of ever finding an appropriate mount, Alanna does a double take when she spots a familiar gold coat and white tail. Moonlight. Brow furrowed, she leans on the stall door and watches her horse try to get the last bit of grain out of her feed bucket. The mare whickers in consternation. Grinning, Alanna tilts her head and tugs on the door. “I thought you were at Pirate’s Swoop with George,” she laughs. Moonlight’s head jerks up at the sound of her voice, and she whinnies in welcome. Delighted, Alanna wraps her arms around Moonlight’s neck and relaxes into the mare’s side. “Great Mother, how I have missed you. I’m so, so sorry.” Alanna’s voice catches, and she rubs her cheek against Moonlight’s warm neck. The mare turns her head, ruffling Alanna’s hair with her muzzle. Blinking back tears at the familiar gesture, Alanna strokes Moonlight’s shoulder and goes to find her tack.
Humming tunelessly under her breath, Alanna locates Moonlight’s saddle in the smaller of the two tack rooms. She carts grooming supplies and tack back to the stall, anxious to be on her way. Moonlight’s head is buried in the feed bucket again when Alanna returns, and the knight chuckles as she drapes the saddle over the stall door. As she grabs a hoof pick, Alanna notices a small envelope pinned to her saddle pad. Frowning, she looks around before unpinning it and reading the message inside.
Lass,
King Jonathan and Sir Myles both sent word that you are hale and hearty. I appreciate their missives, but I would have preferred to hear this from you. I’m sending Moonlight to the palace with a returning Border Guard as I’m sure you will want her back where she belongs… where you belong.
Try to write if you get a chance. I know you hate corresponding in such a fashion, but it would set this old thief’s mind at ease to hear from you directly.
Love,
George
Alanna thumps her head against the stall wall and stares through the small window above her mare’s feed bucket. She pockets the letter and gently places the saddle on Moonlight’s back. The grooming would have to wait. The afternoon is wearing on and she doesn’t want to lose the light.
Love. There’s that word again. Fastening Moonlight’s girth, Alanna starts as the mare bumps her side with her head. It seems both of them are lusting for fresh air and freedom. Smiling thinly, Alanna finishes tacking up and leads Moonlight outside. Eager for a long run, the mare prances in place, barely holding still long enough for Alanna to mount. Once she sinks into the saddle, Alanna pats Moonlight’s neck and nudges her forward with her heels. “At last. Give me all you have,” Alanna encourages. The mare’s sides shake in anticipation as she bunches her muscles and springs forward, startling several pages on the way to a riding lesson as she flies past. Alanna’s reckless laugh seems to hover in the courtyard several seconds after the knight and her horse are no longer in sight.
Alanna feels her mind start to clear as they exit the palace grounds through another gate. Things always made more sense on horseback. The crisp air and Moonlight’s familiar gait soothe her frazzled nerves. They approach the Royal Forest, and Alanna grins as the steady sound of Moonlight’s hooves hitting the tightly packed dirt scares nearby geese into flight. She lets the mare have her head, balancing in the stirrups so as not to disrupt Moonlight’s natural rhythm. Trees stripped of their leaves by fierce autumn winds become an endless blur as they gallop furiously down the path. Half an hour passes before Moonlight’s pace begins to flag and she stumbles over a rock. Instantly contrite, Alanna pulls up and pats her neck.
“That will do for now, lass. We will need to get home, after all.” Alanna tilts her head in confusion as an image of Milliways comes to mind. She hastily tugs on her cloak, trying to banish her sudden chill. “Wherever that might be.” Uneasy, she peers through the trees. It feels like something is watching her, and Alanna shivers as she recalls that wolves freely roam this forest. Alanna sneezes repeatedly, always a sign that something supernatural is afoot.
The air to her immediate left brightens, the deep colors of the forest sharpening. Alanna swings her head around and makes a low noise in the back of her throat. The Goddess stands beside her, gracefully stroking Moonlight’s flank. Alanna’s mouth drops open as she once again marvels at the tall woman with the white skin and unfathomable green eyes.
“Hello, my daughter.” The Goddess’ whisper whips around her with all the fury of a gale force wind. Had Alanna not been astride Moonlight, she would have fallen to her knees at the sound. Her hands tighten on Moonlight’s reins in an effort not to cover her ears.
“Great Mother, I thought you had left me to my own devices.” Alanna’s hand automatically clutches the ember stone through her cloak. It wouldn’t be wise to look at the Goddess with her own magic, but Alanna is comforted by the stone’s weight in her palm.
The Goddess smiles enigmatically, resting a near translucent hand on Alanna’s knee. “I thought it was high time to remind you of your tendency toward irrational fears.”
Alanna quirks an eyebrow and speaks softly in an attempt to ease the ache in her head. “I’ve dealt with my fears, just as you asked.”
“Most of them, yes. You survived the Ordeal and vanquished Roger. But love, daughter? You took the easy way out, letting others make their own choices and pretending you had done the same. Do not sink into despair, my Chosen. The answers are closer than you think.” The Goddess begins to back away, drawing the hood of her cloak over her black hair in one easy motion. She fades from sight like a wave receding from the shore.
“Wait! What about Thom? Did you send me to Milliways?” Alanna stands in her stirrups, her eyes straining. “Is Peter just another test?"
“Courage, my daughter.” Her voice echoes eerily through the trees like a distant huntsman's horn. “Hold on to your courage.”
Bemused, Alanna sinks back into the saddle and steadies Moonlight when the mare begins pawing at the cold ground. “Courage? What does courage have to do with love?” Alanna tugs gently on the reins and points Moonlight toward the Palace and a warm bucket of oats. A small smile plays about her lips, and she lets out a loud whoop. Moonlight responds to her sudden exuberance with a smooth canter, and Alanna leans low over her horse’s neck, savoring the ride. She has a great deal to think about, but for the moment she feels free. That is enough.
Alanna meanders down Market Way, absently tossing an orange into the air. For the first time in her life, the riotous colors and intoxicating smells of market day are completely lost on her. She stares directly ahead, concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other. The simplest tasks are suddenly difficult and require all of her attention, or at least that’s what she stubbornly tells herself. If she has to focus intently on something as mundane as walking, then there is no room left for thoughts of Peter. Cursing, she ducks down an alley and hurls the orange against the wall of a renowned tavern. She watches the fruit splatter, juice spraying in every direction. Strangely appeased, Alanna sighs and continues on toward the palace.
The dark circles under her eyes attest to the night spent sitting by the fire, her back against the wall and knees drawn up to her chest. Afraid that she might give into temptation and try to see Peter with her Gift, Alanna had avoided staring directly into the flames. Hour after hour, she watched the candle by her bed burn lower and the shadows shift across the cold floor. For once, the maddening silence had proved oddly comforting. In the morning, she simply stood up, dusted herself off and went about her business.
She feels like she has been half alive all day.
Stomping her feet against the cold, Alanna reminds herself that she doesn’t have any more time for the pain. Val said there must be a reason. Val is usually right. The Goddess doesn’t act arbitrarily, does she? She would see Peter again.
Wouldn’t she?
Frowning, Alanna clasps her hands behind her back and glares at a nearby pickpocket currently sizing her up. Give it a try, boyo, she thinks. Apparently deciding to take the dangerous gleam in her eyes seriously, the thief winks and melts back into the shadows. Lost in thought, Alanna continues past the Temple of the Great Mother Goddess and up the hill toward the City Gate. A knight leaving Corus for Border Patrol gives her a cursory glance as he trots by, his war horse outfitted in full battle regalia. Alanna knows he would never recognize her as the Lioness in her current state. Dirty boots, dusty clothes, and her old black wig hide her identity almost as effectively as the quiet sadness she wears like a cloak.
Alanna pauses under the wall near the City Gate, looking up at a scarlet and gold standard flapping in the breeze. Her tongue sticks out the side of her mouth as she gets a foothold and shimmies up the wall a few feet. A childhood spent climbing trees among the forbidding forests of the Grimhold Mountains is not soon forgotten. Hand shielding her eyes from the bright winter sun, Alanna stares through a crack in the Palace wall. To her delight, the stable yard looks mostly deserted. She jumps off the wall and sneaks in the Gate beside a cart full of ducks and venison designated for the evening feast.
Head down, Alanna crosses the stable yard, automatically avoiding the perpetually loose cobblestones near the wall. She inhales deeply upon entering the stables, relishing the familiar smells of hay, leather and horse. At least some things remain constant. After searching for Stefan to no avail, Alanna moves down the row of stabled horses, wondering which one she dare take. She smiles fondly when she spies Jon’s horse and pauses to scratch his soft nose. Are you taking care of our King, my friend? Darkness sniffs her hand, undoubtedly wondering what happened to the orange. Alanna rubs her forehead against his and continues on. Jon would murder her if she rode Darkness without his permission.
Beginning to despair of ever finding an appropriate mount, Alanna does a double take when she spots a familiar gold coat and white tail. Moonlight. Brow furrowed, she leans on the stall door and watches her horse try to get the last bit of grain out of her feed bucket. The mare whickers in consternation. Grinning, Alanna tilts her head and tugs on the door. “I thought you were at Pirate’s Swoop with George,” she laughs. Moonlight’s head jerks up at the sound of her voice, and she whinnies in welcome. Delighted, Alanna wraps her arms around Moonlight’s neck and relaxes into the mare’s side. “Great Mother, how I have missed you. I’m so, so sorry.” Alanna’s voice catches, and she rubs her cheek against Moonlight’s warm neck. The mare turns her head, ruffling Alanna’s hair with her muzzle. Blinking back tears at the familiar gesture, Alanna strokes Moonlight’s shoulder and goes to find her tack.
Humming tunelessly under her breath, Alanna locates Moonlight’s saddle in the smaller of the two tack rooms. She carts grooming supplies and tack back to the stall, anxious to be on her way. Moonlight’s head is buried in the feed bucket again when Alanna returns, and the knight chuckles as she drapes the saddle over the stall door. As she grabs a hoof pick, Alanna notices a small envelope pinned to her saddle pad. Frowning, she looks around before unpinning it and reading the message inside.
Lass,
King Jonathan and Sir Myles both sent word that you are hale and hearty. I appreciate their missives, but I would have preferred to hear this from you. I’m sending Moonlight to the palace with a returning Border Guard as I’m sure you will want her back where she belongs… where you belong.
Try to write if you get a chance. I know you hate corresponding in such a fashion, but it would set this old thief’s mind at ease to hear from you directly.
Love,
George
Alanna thumps her head against the stall wall and stares through the small window above her mare’s feed bucket. She pockets the letter and gently places the saddle on Moonlight’s back. The grooming would have to wait. The afternoon is wearing on and she doesn’t want to lose the light.
Love. There’s that word again. Fastening Moonlight’s girth, Alanna starts as the mare bumps her side with her head. It seems both of them are lusting for fresh air and freedom. Smiling thinly, Alanna finishes tacking up and leads Moonlight outside. Eager for a long run, the mare prances in place, barely holding still long enough for Alanna to mount. Once she sinks into the saddle, Alanna pats Moonlight’s neck and nudges her forward with her heels. “At last. Give me all you have,” Alanna encourages. The mare’s sides shake in anticipation as she bunches her muscles and springs forward, startling several pages on the way to a riding lesson as she flies past. Alanna’s reckless laugh seems to hover in the courtyard several seconds after the knight and her horse are no longer in sight.
Alanna feels her mind start to clear as they exit the palace grounds through another gate. Things always made more sense on horseback. The crisp air and Moonlight’s familiar gait soothe her frazzled nerves. They approach the Royal Forest, and Alanna grins as the steady sound of Moonlight’s hooves hitting the tightly packed dirt scares nearby geese into flight. She lets the mare have her head, balancing in the stirrups so as not to disrupt Moonlight’s natural rhythm. Trees stripped of their leaves by fierce autumn winds become an endless blur as they gallop furiously down the path. Half an hour passes before Moonlight’s pace begins to flag and she stumbles over a rock. Instantly contrite, Alanna pulls up and pats her neck.
“That will do for now, lass. We will need to get home, after all.” Alanna tilts her head in confusion as an image of Milliways comes to mind. She hastily tugs on her cloak, trying to banish her sudden chill. “Wherever that might be.” Uneasy, she peers through the trees. It feels like something is watching her, and Alanna shivers as she recalls that wolves freely roam this forest. Alanna sneezes repeatedly, always a sign that something supernatural is afoot.
The air to her immediate left brightens, the deep colors of the forest sharpening. Alanna swings her head around and makes a low noise in the back of her throat. The Goddess stands beside her, gracefully stroking Moonlight’s flank. Alanna’s mouth drops open as she once again marvels at the tall woman with the white skin and unfathomable green eyes.
“Hello, my daughter.” The Goddess’ whisper whips around her with all the fury of a gale force wind. Had Alanna not been astride Moonlight, she would have fallen to her knees at the sound. Her hands tighten on Moonlight’s reins in an effort not to cover her ears.
“Great Mother, I thought you had left me to my own devices.” Alanna’s hand automatically clutches the ember stone through her cloak. It wouldn’t be wise to look at the Goddess with her own magic, but Alanna is comforted by the stone’s weight in her palm.
The Goddess smiles enigmatically, resting a near translucent hand on Alanna’s knee. “I thought it was high time to remind you of your tendency toward irrational fears.”
Alanna quirks an eyebrow and speaks softly in an attempt to ease the ache in her head. “I’ve dealt with my fears, just as you asked.”
“Most of them, yes. You survived the Ordeal and vanquished Roger. But love, daughter? You took the easy way out, letting others make their own choices and pretending you had done the same. Do not sink into despair, my Chosen. The answers are closer than you think.” The Goddess begins to back away, drawing the hood of her cloak over her black hair in one easy motion. She fades from sight like a wave receding from the shore.
“Wait! What about Thom? Did you send me to Milliways?” Alanna stands in her stirrups, her eyes straining. “Is Peter just another test?"
“Courage, my daughter.” Her voice echoes eerily through the trees like a distant huntsman's horn. “Hold on to your courage.”
Bemused, Alanna sinks back into the saddle and steadies Moonlight when the mare begins pawing at the cold ground. “Courage? What does courage have to do with love?” Alanna tugs gently on the reins and points Moonlight toward the Palace and a warm bucket of oats. A small smile plays about her lips, and she lets out a loud whoop. Moonlight responds to her sudden exuberance with a smooth canter, and Alanna leans low over her horse’s neck, savoring the ride. She has a great deal to think about, but for the moment she feels free. That is enough.