[centre][img]https://i.imgur.com/SJNXoOw.png[/img]

The [i]Kavijama[/i]  | the thing of ink & poetry | The [i]Hibrach[/i]

[h3]&[/h3][h1][color=tan]Lucia[/color][/h1][/centre]

The three moons lit up the shifting heavens of the night, and across the prairie a blanket of calm swamped all things. The streams ran swiftly, their pure cool waters sending out a gentle spray and soft sleepy song. The creatures of the night moved silent and quick, freezing every now and then at a perceived sound or movement… before scurrying on. Here and there a guardian bison stood, like a mountain in the grass, snorting or grunting while the others slept. 
By the sleeping form of his beloved sat the poet god, a mountain in a temple, his eyes worshipping her every breath and every rise and fall of her chest. He watched the softly shifting tattoos that swirled lazily across her sublime form, now and again pulsing with sunlight and now and then growing as though they were a great gold beating heart. To watch her was to tremble and yearn, and to tremble and yearn was to sigh and weep, and to weep was to paint the walls with his unendurable agony and joy.

And as had been the case every night since his heart had known Lucia’s hallowed name - every night, that was, other than the one that Gibbou had permitted them wakefulness throughout and which they savoured again and again - his eyes knew no sleep and his inky tears painted the walls of the great sunlit temple with her resplendent form. The walls of the temple knew Lucia’s sleeping eyes, knew ever lash and every fold of her resting eyelids, knew the lounging shape of her brows and the frown that now and again broke their repose and sent the heart of that wakeful watcher racing and groaning - [i]your sleeping frowns are fairer far than laughs of wakeful maidens are![/i] -, and those painted walls knew every strand of Lucia’s hair, knew the curve of her cheek, her nose, knew her lips of liquorice and honey, knew the dip of her collarbone and the swell of her arms about her chest, knew the great arc of her hip, her thigh, knew the lines in her palms and worshipped at the altar each of her nails.

Aye, the walls of the temple had become a great endless painting; of Lucia now sleeping, Lucia now awake, Lucia now laughing in the sun, Lucia now weeping, dancing, casting him from her sight in anger, beckoning him back to her with all-encompassing mercy, smirking at some stupid thing he said, staring his way with the dim light of fondness and a distant smile; and those poor old walls forgot a time when they were bare of Lucia’s beauteous visage and form, aye they did not want to think that ever such a time existed. For what were they, those miserable old walls, without Lucia’s aspect scattered across them like droplets of water on a parched slave’s lips? Lucia was lifewater to all she graced, so drink deep ye walls! - and drink deep, oh unsleeping eyes of ink!

[centre]If I loved you less
I would kiss you more
But loving you much
I can but adore
The purse of your lips
And rise of your chest[/centre]

When Lucia eventually woke, she found him - a mountain! - sitting there still, as he sat every morning, trembling and mumbling madly to himself. And when his eye was kohled by hers he would seem to swell and a smile would spread across his face of ink before he burst forth to welcome her back to the world of wakefulness, raining adoring kisses now on this hand and now on that, now on this shoulder and now on that, and he would whisper of all the walking they had to do and all the seeing that awaited them on the Prairie, and all the paintings he had been inspired with in the night, and all the songs that were yet unsung and all the spirits that yearned to know her today.

Lucia returned his smile, beaming happily as she stretched to welcome the morning. [color=tan]”Good morning Love. Are you ready for another day?”[/color] she asked, twirling her hair with a finger. His response, like always, was wordless as he wrapped himself about her body and clothed her in himself, pressing her wrists as he was wont to do and tightening about her in an impossibly great embrace that seemed to melt him into her and her into him. 
But even from a distance the god sensed that the Orb was approaching to ruin, yet again, their lovesome embrace and all the plans they had for the day. An inky tendril immediately shot out to obstruct the globular martinet. The thing of magic zipped here and there, and the god’s tendril chased after it, but no amount of zipping and dashing and curling around could prevent the stubborn creation of the magician (who Lucia had mentioned in passing now and again) from finally zoning in on them, no doubt to force some morning training session upon them. The god seemed to sigh as the tendril of ink withdrew and the irritating voice of that ridiculous anti-muse sounded.

“Goodmorning Lucia, are you ready to train? You need to practice your control more and sleeping in won’t help.” Orb chided. 

Lucia rolled her eyes as she got up, a smug look upon her face. [color=tan]”First things first! I need some berries. Then we can talk about training.”[/color] she said, walking over to a bush. 

“Ah yes, nutrition. Please fuel yourself so we may begin.” Orb responded, zipping around her. 

[color=tan]”Yes, yes Orb. These things take time.”[/color] she said, slowly picking the ripest blueberries and plopping them in her mouth. [color=tan]”I’ll meet you at the pool in a bit, okay?”[/color] she said to Orb in a sing-song voice. 

“This is… satisfactory, Lucia. I will await your arrival.” Orb said, zipping off. 

Lucia sighed. [color=tan]“He means well, my Love. Magic is a tantalizing thing, I enjoy trying to get it to work, you know.”[/color] she said to him.

‘Can’t I fiddle with his head a bit? Or with his voice - so he [i]sounds[/i] nice at least? I won’t break him… too badly…’ There was a short pause, ‘but I make no promises.’ A tendril of ink moved across the blueberries and, finding a particularly large and ripe one, picked it and zipped up to plop it into Lucia’s mouth. A ripple pulsed through the inky robes at the exoteric act of affection. It was not in his nature, but it filled him with inexplicable peace.

[color=tan]”Mhmm, thank you.”[/color] she said after swallowing. [color=tan]”But no, you cannot harm Orb. He means well, even if he can be annoying.”[/color] she smirked. The rippling clothes seemed to deflate as the god sighed.

‘Not only is his voice ugly and grating, even the song that emanates from him is a squawking ugliness bereft of beauteous form or meaningful substance. He is all orders and commands and no dance or song…’ then the rhythmic voice of the god erupted into a small chuckle that seemed on the verge of bursting into some ditty, and the black robes rippled up again, ‘hey, Lucie, do you want to sneak off while he’s not paying attention? We can swim in the river again and listen to that wonderful flow!’

[color=tan]“Oh my Love…”[/color] she said, twirling. [color=tan]“We’ve done that these last few days, is it any wonder he is so quick to the lesson? I need to train and learn if I am to become better. Only one of us is a god, remember?”[/color] she laughed. The robes seemed to bristle at this proclamation.

‘Oh, only in form my dear!- and only by a cruel error of the world! Let whoever claims godhood do so, but I worship only [i]you[/i], my Lucie. What need have you for all these things that this Orb wants to teach you anyhow? All this battering the world into submission and enslaving the elements - it only brings the Worldsong tears! Let us go dance and swim and make merry, and in so doing make the Worldsong laugh.’

She rolled her eyes as she walked out to view the Prairie proper. [color=tan]“You flatter me so, my dear.”[/color] she said as the breeze blew in her hair. [color=tan]“I have a need to see most of the world and all its aspects. The lord of magic came to me and offered to have me taught, who was I to refuse? I plan to use both you know, to make them work in harmony. This fondness for music, poetry and dance and the will to use the world. There has to be a way, I know it.”[/color] she said, pounding her first into her hand.

‘You don’t need to lock yourself away in this place, love. You can go and see the world right now. We can go - you and me, together. And as we travel we will both learn, and if there is a way to bring dancing and song into harmony with this magic, then we will find it out there and not in Orb’s snore-inducing voice.’ The robes tightened about her in that great embrace, ‘you simply have to dare, my Lucielu.’

She stayed quiet for a time, shuffling back and forth on her feet. When she spoke again, her voice was far away and full of worry. [color=tan]”I want to, but I can’t. Not yet. Humans have yet to come here, for some reason. And what if mother comes back? I know she will eventually, she told me as much. I can’t… I can’t just up and leave. Who would do such a thing?”[/color] she asked, walking back inside. The inky robes deflated once more about her.

‘It is not wrong for the songbird to fly free my love. It is made for it, and perishes in a cage, even a gilded one. No one would blame it for doing so - who with heart or soul would do such a thing?’ He was silent for a few moments, ‘but I will not press the matter more. I am content here with you - your song is all I need, the dance of your heart beneath me and your joyous soul filling the world with laughter and merriment. Remember, in case that droning orb causes you to forget!: never cease from joy, my love, and in the face of all pain and agony never repent from incurable happiness and ecstasy.’ And with that he tightened about her and was quiet.

It was not the only thing that grew quiet. Lucia paused. The Worldsong had... stopped. [color=tan]”My Love… Why do you stop the song?”[/color] she asked, confused. He did not respond, but tightened about her more than he ever had, and pulsed and convulsed as though torn through by great pain.

‘H- hold-’ came his excruciated utterance, ‘m-me-’ and even as his cracking voice sounded, blotches and tendrils of ink were violently torn and ripped away. Meghzaal’s tortured scream reverberated against the fabric of all that was, clawing and gnashing wildly in a manner it never had - why, his voice seemed alive and fighting, seemed to battle and pound, seemed to slice and claw at some invisible and impossible foe -, and his ink was now hands holding tightly onto Lucia, and his gasping visage formed up before her, shedding uncountable tears. ‘Hold me, Lu…’ he groaned. If his beloved could not be his worldly anchor, then who could?

Lucia did as asked, frantically, desperately, her voice full of tears and confusion. She knew not what was going on, only that her Love was in pain; and to comfort that pain was the only thing she could do. [color=tan]”No no no! My Love, please, what’s happening? What’s wrong? Speak to me, please.”[/color] she cried out again. The frantic grabbing and struggle continued for many stretching seconds, but something in the ink god seemed to suddenly rupture, and an acceptance that there was no resisting fate seeped through him; separation had been written upon them and union forever made forbidden. A desolate calm betook him in that instant and he looked her in the eye and, for all the despondency that sought to shackle and carry him away, smiled through freely flowing ink tears.

‘If I loved you less, my beautiful Lucie, I would kiss you more,’ he whispered. He had no sooner spoken those words - the final divine song Galbar would ever know - before his hands evaporated and the rest of him dispersed and passed into nothingness away. Except his eyes, that is, which remained until the last, glimmering and glistening and speaking all that could not be spoken… and then were gone.

Lucia’s golden eyes went wide with horror only a lover could know. [color=tan]”No… no no no!”[/color] She screamed, feeling around for her Love, searching in frustration. Yet, it was no use. Her Love of loves, was gone. Faded before her eyes. Lucia slammed her fists into the ground as she wailed with heart wrenching loss.

Then she heard her name. Her mother’s voice had called her, and she turned just in time to see Oraelia fade away, arms outstretched to her. She screamed again, getting to her feet, going to where her mother had been. She felt around before her, but there was nothing. Not even a trace. She fell to her knees and held her face within her hands as the tears came. And they did not stop for a very long time. 

[list][*][hider=Summary]
Meghzaal has been painting the Sunlit Temple; its walls are known all of them painted with various icons and impressions of Lucia doing numerous things - laughing, dancing, singing, frowning, sleeping, eating, walking, swimming, etc. He is watching her sleep, and then she awakens. He glomphs her and suggests they go exploring the Prairie again, but they are then assaulted by Orb who wants Lucia to do nothing but train train train. Meghzaal suggests that Lucia and he elope while Orb isn’t watching, but Lucia goes ‘no way fella’. Meghzaal shrugs and contentedly accepts the situation. At that precise moment, the Lifeblood decides to tear him away from his beloved Lucia, which is a rather traumatic experience for both, unfortunately. Lucia is doubly traumatised as, just as Meghzaal disappears, Oraelia appears only to also be swept off. Lucia is left at a loss and weeping for a long time.
[/hider]

[*][hider=Prestige]
Lucia
Starting 20
5 Prestige to Lucia due to over 10k characters
Ending 25
[/hider][/list]