An experiment. Please critique.
~
She keeps her eyes closed as she manifests
into the realm of mortals, taking in the atmosphere one sense at a time. The
gentle breath of the world caressing her pale skin. Soft blades of grass
brushing against her bare feet. Sounds of rustling leaves and an owl’s hoot
some ways behind her trickle into her ears. The rich scent of apples and
peaches mixed with honey she could almost taste.
“Enjoying the moment?”
Her eyes flick open. Ah, the man with pearl eyes. Hardly visible in the
moonlight, sitting there in an apple tree. Eating a peach. Looks like a frog,
the way he’s perched up there. She likes frogs.
“Hello Frog.” She smiles
up at him.
“So that’s my name this
time, eh?” The man, grinning, falls forward, flips, and lands lightly on his
feet in front of her. “Been a while, Zel. Come to announce another passing?”
“When else do you find me?”
She sees Frog look toward the old manor not far off. A lit window reveals a little
girl searching through a desk. “Though I wonder, are you here for more than a
kindly greeting, perhaps?”
“Perhaps.” Frog glances
back at Zel. “Alas, my duties indeed call me elsewhere, and so a kindly
greeting it must be left.” He makes an exaggerated, flourishing bow. A flash of
light catches Zel’s attention to a blade at his side. “Farewell. Until the next
corpse. May we have more time for pleasantries then.” Shadowy tendrils begin
twisting up from around his feet, consuming his body, even to his pearl-white
eyes, causing the form to collapse into the ground and vanish into the wavering
shade of the wind-rustled trees.
Zel turns to the manor,
her feet gliding over the delicate grass bringing her to a water basin in a
courtyard next to the aged building. She notices a web of ivy clinging to the
side of the stone wall like frost on a window. The intricate weaving of stems
in and out of cracks in the rock makes her smile. So different from her home of
insubstantial echoes of substance.
She sits at the dry stone
basin with her back to the manor, lazily lifting her hand from her side. The
air around her arm quivers, quickly replaced by a dripping red cloth. Zel
brings the bloodied garments into the basin and waves her free hand over it languidly,
summoning a fresh pool of water, which almost immediately turns into a dark
wine tint. Her hands busy themselves in the pooled liquid as a song flits past
her lips like butterflies escaping a net.
The cloak of Death
Like Winter’s breath
Veils the sound
Of mourning
Softly soon
Come ‘morrow’s moon
Souls will rise
Soaring
Falling rain
Will come in vain
To wash the crimson stain
She
thinks of Frog’s blade. Of the girl in the window. Of the blood in her hands,
familiar as water. Death is both as natural to her as a river’s flow and as
foreign as sunlight on a summer’s day. Why is it so painful for those that yet
live? She is vaguely aware of someone’s presence behind her as she continues
her eerie melody.
While pale face
Calls Death’s embrace
The gentle wind
Shall cease
Listless bliss
Shall be as mist
When sorrow falls
In peace
And with the slain
Comes lover’s pain
Who holds the crimson stain
She
senses the presence draw nearer. It feels timid with its light footfalls erratically
stepping and stopping, unsure of itself. The little girl? Zel looks down at the
garments in her hands: A man’s long silk shirt with a frayed tear in the
middle. Perhaps the father’s. The lyrics continue through the cool night air.
Blood will drip
And fate yet grip
The wings of ash
So barren
Dawn’s bright gaze
Shall fail to raise
The faces of
The children
When all is lain
O’er mortal’s bane
There lies the crimson stain
Zel’s
melody ends. She stares down at the shirt in her hands, keeping still while the
calm silence lengthens. Slowly turning her head, she looks at the girl watching
her only a few feet away. The look in her eyes is full of wonder and curiosity.
It reminds her of herself whenever she found something new in the mortal world.
She feels sadness for the girl, not quite knowing why. How might this young one
take the death of her father? The mortal kind tend to each react somewhat
differently in such a position.
She
decides not to linger with this child much longer. Her appearance to mortals
also causes varied reactions. Zel lets her presence dissolve into the air, an
early mist catching the morning breeze. The wondering girl is left alone in the
moonlit courtyard. A dark liquid drips from the basin.
