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mmexlibris) wrote2010-10-07 01:08 pm
mmexlibris) wrote2010-10-07 01:08 pm
[meme fic] Olga / Into The Gloaming
From yesterday's DE.
Prompt from![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
sardonicynic :
† Olga : ancient ; She can't explain what it's like -- it just is, formless and forever.
She can't explain what it is -- it just is, formless and forever. The shadow at her shoulder, its cool kiss felt along her long bones, woven deep into the fabric of her consciousness. It is curse and comfort, simultaneously.
In the beginning, it haunted her, paced her along the muddy streets of her village, hunted her along the wooded paths back to the low cottages of her family's homestead. Black fingers of silvery darkness, catching at the hems of her skirts, tangling in her long hair. Calling to her in soft whispers, alluring and terrifying.
And then a man came, and paid good coin to take her away, ostensibly to serve as a maid to some noble woman. He showed her how to face the Gloom, how to draw it around her like a cloak, how to move into the folds and gathers of it, and within that void, how to travel vast distances. He showed her how to draw it into herself, to tap the well of strength within.
Now, it is simply a part of her. She breathes and it moves through her veins. She carries it with her always, and it is never far away from her grasp. The Gloom is the first door she ever entered into this world, and it will be the last threshold she crosses when she finally decides to leave it
Prompt from
sardonicynic : † Olga : ancient ; She can't explain what it's like -- it just is, formless and forever.
She can't explain what it is -- it just is, formless and forever. The shadow at her shoulder, its cool kiss felt along her long bones, woven deep into the fabric of her consciousness. It is curse and comfort, simultaneously.
In the beginning, it haunted her, paced her along the muddy streets of her village, hunted her along the wooded paths back to the low cottages of her family's homestead. Black fingers of silvery darkness, catching at the hems of her skirts, tangling in her long hair. Calling to her in soft whispers, alluring and terrifying.
And then a man came, and paid good coin to take her away, ostensibly to serve as a maid to some noble woman. He showed her how to face the Gloom, how to draw it around her like a cloak, how to move into the folds and gathers of it, and within that void, how to travel vast distances. He showed her how to draw it into herself, to tap the well of strength within.
Now, it is simply a part of her. She breathes and it moves through her veins. She carries it with her always, and it is never far away from her grasp. The Gloom is the first door she ever entered into this world, and it will be the last threshold she crosses when she finally decides to leave it