Topic: Sacred Flame

Crobh Dearg

Date: 2010-01-17 13:17 EST
"I am she of the Red Claws, and you shall worship me."

The whisper brought her eyes to open. Burning egyptian suns saturated by blood cast hue.

The fire gold slithered in her eyes, strands as burning asps to distort the vision of all that she saw.

Only a few suns had passed the horizon and the imprint, the heat lines of that which was weighed in scales and heartbeats grew to a warmth that she would bask in.

Radiate through with the smolder of passion, the burn of a caged inferno.

No longer was she just the spark in the dark. The Nature Force had acknowledged that....but she was no killer. Not to a stranger, not without purpose.

Sanskrit wards written on an Egyptian's flesh. A warning. Not heeded.

The heartbeats taken by a Nature Force.

She could hear them.

Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.

The Sacred Flame had awakened within. Ignited to the quick.

The Fire Born and Collector perhaps had seen it well.

Sefu.

His name. The thought of him bore a wildfire and chaos within her. Heat waves of desert mirages fleeting and writhing in confusion.

Something in her spirit burned for him.

Deja vu but he was of Egypt

She only burned as it's sun.

They called her Crobh Dearg and it was all she knew.

Reap and Sow in the blood sun of the Harvest.

Worship her" No....

Ignore her" A poor choice.

The fires would not be contained....and she, she would burn with them.

Sword of the Desert

Date: 2010-01-18 10:04 EST
"My son."

"Yes, my father."

"You know what you have been accused of."

"I do, my father."

"Then I have but one question for you."

A long silence. Then...

"No, my father."

Another long silence. Longer.

"I knew as much, my son."

"I know, my father."

"Then why do you not deny the accusation to all" Surely you know what this will mean if you are found guilty."

"I know, my father."

"Then why?"

"Because, my father. Now, but for my words, the tribe is united. Whole. Strong. Were I to speak the truth, the tribe would be divided. Weakened."

"But you are my son. Surely people will see the truth..."

"No, my father. Were I to tell the truth of what happened, I will seem a liar, desperate to save my own skin. I have no doubt that he will one day - perhaps soon - be seen for what he is. But until then, for the good of the tribe, I must make a sacrifice."

Another long silence. The longest of them all.

"You are indeed a great man, my son. Songs shall be sung of your bravery one day. Forgive me what I must do, but remember that you will always be my son."

"There is nothing to forgive, my father."

"There is much, my son...as you will perhaps see one day. Look for the morning sun, Sefu...she will be out there waiting for you."

It had seemed such an odd choice of parting words his father had chosen for that night, before the trial. Before his banishment, before the wandering of the desert.

Before waking up not in the heat of the day, but the cool shadow of the wood.

Before Lasair.

He has never heard this name, does not know its meaning. The heat he felt in her presence, though, a fire that does not die, only dims to a single flame when she is not close by, raging to inferno in her presence. As though her absence were the night, the first sight of her the morning sun heralding the start of a new day.

The strange music of her voice, the fire burning in her eyes. And despite the knowledge that they are not familiar, he feels he knows her nonetheless, somehow.

The morning sun, indeed. Had his father been prophet as well as chieftain?

Crobh Dearg

Date: 2010-01-21 22:37 EST
A fever. She was burning with it. In the winter she felt aflame. It awakened her from the restless slumber attempted.

Burning.

Skin slick with sweat she was as warm as the desert's sun beating down on the sand and she wanted more of that warmth. Hungered for it.

In the time before night became day. The sheets kicked off. Flesh still smoldered.

Visions behind her eyes. Wicked mirages that left her burning.

"Who are you."

A whisper out in the night, blazing eyes a savage burn.

Whisper became a sudden feral scream. Tribal awakening that would sing out in the night with a firebird's call.

It all was chaos. Embers she could not catch or claim.

Yet wanted...as her own.

Her burning possession. Her smoldering obsession.