Topic: In White Gardens

A Fox Mask

Date: 2007-12-05 20:22 EST
http://img359.imageshack.us/img359/3928/gardenshrinedn1.jpg

Two years ago:

Sunlight bright as white silk flooded the bed of greenery at her bare feet. Her feet were just as freckled as her hands and face, pale enough that against the dark, rich brown soil they looked like statue?s feet. Everything for a moment was so bright that all she could see were the few leaves of some plant tickling ankles; the love-sighs of long grass swaying in smallest of breeze played with auburn strands. Spring and summer filled her nose, a scent better felt than described; honey, sunshine, fresh cut grass, rain in the dirt and daisies.

?Ah. You made it.?

Ran turned, found herself looking directly into the sun. Lifting her right hand in shade-salute to keep the brightness out of eyes and peer toward a figure ablaze in the sun. The great ball of brightness bled happy summer behind a tall, reedy form leaving face as well as most of his front in total shadow.

Ran felt her eye brows drawing well before the question came from her lips. ?How--?? Birds twittered, chirped and sang to each other cheerfully all around them. She dropped her hand from shielding the sun, dropping both palms to the distant ache in her belly and back.

?Oh, that.? The man?s voice seemed as cheerful and piping as the birds about him but it did not have the true ring of youth.

?I am sorry about that, Ran. I could not let you go, I am afraid that there is need for you still.?

No matter how she squinted, she could not see him. Though the silhouette offered an arm and the hand was age-spotted, wrinkled with blue-spider veins of the old and enveloped in a long sleeve.

?It has been a long time, Little One. Welcome home.?

Ran reached for the hand just as the ground beneath her feet rose up to greet her.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2007-12-06 17:35 EST
http://img134.imageshack.us/img134/4237/kuzunohasmvl5.jpg

One year, eleven months ago:

Blue sky with only the long scratches of wispy clouds stretched on and on forever. As far as Ran could see, bright pastel blue of the heavens in high-summer never dimmed or changed. It never rained here, even though no matter where she stepped there was something green and growing voraciously. When she was hungry, there was food. Plates or cups nestled within branches of oak trees or found within vines. When she was tired, she slept beneath vast trees that did not block out the sun.

It was a garden, though. There were walls built cleverly of plants so thick that no matter how many times she wormed her hand about curiously she'd never see the side of it.

Not that she wished to leave, contrary to that fact. She simply learned to stop wishing for anything at all a long time ago, it had never truly mattered to her where she was or went. She did not know how long she had been here, chasing birds or catching dragonflies to let them go--she did not care or wonder.

There was a rolling pond and a thousand flowers in bloom, she was curiously digging through the earth to chase a worm that had wiggled past her toes when she heard:

"Do you know anything of gardening, Ran?"

When she looked up to the source of the voice, it was the same as the first time. The sun boiled bright behind him, making her have to squint to even catch the darkened outline of his body.

"No. My Grandfather grew lotus and I sold them."

"I know," He said quietly. He always knew. "Would you like to learn?"

Auburn head tipped to the side with the question. Leaning away from the spot in the earth she had been digging at, she considered his question. Most people would have been demanding why they were there, who he was, what the meaning of all this was--not Ran. Ran perhaps, had a solid expectancy that all things would reveal themselves in time.

"Yes." There was nothing more needs be said but the single word. And, even thought he seemed to kneel beside her in the garden, an age-spotted hand coming into view as he pointed...She still could see nothing, even out of the corner of her eye.

"The plant beside you is commonly known as Lemon Balm, Melissa officinalis, and is a plant within the mint family..."

The prophet settled on her knees to follow his finger point and listen.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2007-12-08 17:51 EST
http://img474.imageshack.us/img474/6829/guardianofkimonxt8.jpg

One year, eight months ago.

"It is time, Ran."

Underneath an oak tree that unfurled branches toward the sky dimming to night, Ran glanced up lazily from the edge of a book. Her fingertips, freckle spattered as her knuckles, caressed pages that smelled of dust and old plants pressed between them. It had been many years since she had held a book, many more since she was allowed to handle one.

She let this one fall to her knees slowly.

"Where am I going?" Reluctant to ask, but, she figured it was time to ask him.

"They call it Rhydin, spelled and pronounced many different ways. It is a place of everything's and in-betweens."

Ran folded the book shut slowly to set it beside her carefully as she considered such words from him. As always, even though the sun was starting to dim, it was behind him and made it impossible for her to see anything of his face.

"Are you sending me to be a Voice?" Wearily asked. Ran did not want to speak for any city, ever again. She did not want to repeat history. And yet, she knew well what her fate should have been. She supposed then if he had asked her, she would go to another temple and do as he asked.

"No, my Little One." His aged voice came to Ran as if a little saddened and a little disappointed that she had asked. "This city's voice is long dead. It is not so much the city anymore that cries, but the people in it."

Ran's auburn brows furrowed at this. She had been the Voice before, the City and listened. It was, despite her protests, all that she was and knew to do. If he did not want her to do that--

"Ran, do you know what crayons are?"

She blinked, but shook her head. He Hrrrmm'ed faintly.

"Have you ever ice skated?" She shook her head. "Painted? Laughed until you cried? Read poetry? Chased someone? Kissed them? Eaten ice cream in the middle of winter? Been hugged?"

Ran shook her head and kept shaking them throughout his list. There was no sad emotion upon the flower prophet's face, simply truth. While he continued speaking and sympathy grew within his voice, Ran's face remained the dream-touched impassivity that had been there for as long as she could remember.

He sighed. His next words came to her as if colored by patience as well as unending affection.

"It is time for you to go. There is no other place in these worlds that can show you such drastic things as all that you have missed. I would like you to go. Will you do that, for me?"

"Of course," Ran offered him without hesitation. He had given her a second chance, allowed her to eat of his garden and sleep in it.

His age spotted hand reached out to settle on her head. He was able to convey a gentle sort of smile at her, without her being able to see one iota of his face.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2007-12-08 21:49 EST
http://img455.imageshack.us/img455/8177/kitsunenochochinlk0.jpg

One year, eight months ago.

She finished wriggling fingers within brand new thin-suede gloves. They were blue and so brand new they seemed to still smell of packages and stores. The russet jacket was exactly the same, however. Simply missing the hole the katana made as well as obvious blackened stain.

When she was done buttoning the jacket, curious gloved hands poked then prodded her middle again. Some days she truly wondered if all had been a dream.

?It wasn?t,? he said from before her. Now it was well and truly sunset in his garden, with just the tip of sun arising over green-wall. It still was too bright for her to make out anything. But Ran already knew this was the way things would be with him. ?It was real, Ran.

In a way, I am sorry for it. But it was something you had to learn.?

Ran did not wish to speak on such things, nor remember it, nor think on it, nor acknowledge it. Instead she asked, ?What will I do there??

?There is lotus in my garden, Ran. I always thought they made everything just a little bit more peaceful, do you not agree??

?Ah,? she said to him then. His answer made perfect sense; it was one other thing she knew how to do after all. ?Will I see you again??

With that question, he laughed. His voice seemed to creak a bit as old men?s laughs were meant to do, but it was genuine in addition to being good natured.

?My dear Little One, of course you will. You will come when you need to listen, or perhaps when you need a lesson, or when you need lotus. My garden is always here for you.

Besides that, who will tend it in the winter??

The prophet had a feeling that last was simply added on to make her feel a little better. She was almost certain that he could tend his own garden, regardless of what season or weather.

There was no warning from when she was there and then here?in the middle of a street with people passing and distant cars honking. Turning slightly, Ran could see the familiar form of wicker flower cart nearby. Past that, an oval shaped yellow-doorway in the middle of air had begun closing. Through it she could see the sweet grass bending, the tall oak, and the silhouette of an old man?

?Wait,? Ran stepped toward it, leaning curiously. Would her voice carry from here to there now?

?Yes, Ran?? He asked her, patient and kind, as always.

?Who are you?? No one seemed to notice or, at least, find the apparition of a portal closing in the middle of a street odd, nor a woman talking to it.

When he answered he sounded almost surprised and half chiding. As the portal winked shut, she was left with these words:

?Why, Ran! I am your father, of course.?

A Fox Mask

Date: 2007-12-13 09:45 EST
http://img514.imageshack.us/img514/6818/prayerboardls4.jpg

One Year Ago:

Knees pressed to sweet loam, Ran bent over wild rows of lavender, brushing her hand through absently just to have the smell arise. Dirt and green; bloom and water, these things she knew well and secretly loved them. After all, plants did not mind hearing her speak, nor did they mind it when she looked at them.

?What have you learned??

The voice behind her had her fingers still. Rocking weight back so that her behind settled on her calves Ran?s freckled hands dropped to the top of thighs. Beside her, blue suede gloves had worn, but worn well over the eight months. Russet jacket was already faded when he returned it to her, but the sleeves pulled a touch away from wrists?she?d grown taller quicker than her clothes could keep up. It gave her a long, lanky sort of shape instead of anything voluptuous. Some of the roundness of youth had faded from her face as well, which did not turn toward him as she knew it would be a gesture in futility.

?It is as you said. It is a place of great extremes. People here can be moved to great things; violence or love.

Though I would compare it most to a revolving door. Many come in, many go, few stay within.?

He made a sound, small and crossed between an nnnk, and an mmm. Which some how conveyed both amusement, a sigh of patience and fondness.

?Anyone with eyes in their head could tell you the same thing, Ran. What did you learn??

Ran?s mouth, a cupid?s bow, pulled nearly flat in thought. He wanted more than just the surface answer and she would have to pull for it.

?Very few are real. But when you find those that are, they are precious. They are as bright as Venus in the morning sky. You can see them, because they are more than just different?they glow compared to the garish frivolity of fake.

They are often silent in their movements, their lives. Private, in comparison to the blatant openness of others. Very few are real, but when they are?it?s momentous. They can change more than they realize.?

Age spotted hand settled atop her head, ruining what little neatness auburn hair within braids had.

?That is a good start, yes. And what of your friends, Ran? Do you know what lakes in summer feel like against your bare toes? Have you tried painting yet? What of meditating before a sunset??

If silence was an all telling answer, than perhaps, that?s exactly what Ran?s silence was.

It wasn?t terribly surprising when he heaved another quiet sort of sigh behind her.

?Ran, you can?t shut them out forever. You may think you are saving yourself heart-ache, but you are only creating more. Do not??

?Tell me about my mother,? the prophet?s monotone spiked itself in between his words and shattered the rest of them into silence. He knew what she was doing, she did too. But he humored her.

?She was stubborn,? he started out dryly, before Ran could hear the sound of fabric rustling behind her as he settled himself within the long grass to speak quietly on women with amber eyes and red hair.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2008-02-05 10:52 EST
http://img210.imageshack.us/img210/8451/hiroshige100viewsofedofbe0.jpg


Present:

There is a certain peace to be found within the sweet sound of sun on oak leaves, she thought, as Ran surveyed the apparent endless garden of her father. A father she had no name for and did not appear pressed to ask; a garden which had no pathways to but a random portal when one wished to find it?had Ran been the usual sort, she might have found all of this unusual. Luckily, she and, as she had been finding, others like her were not so usual. Such things seem to pass the eye here without as much as a blink, in some ways, she was grateful.

People did not find her behavior entirely too odd, thus, never dug too deeply.

?How long do you think you will be able to hide here??

The fox-fire of Ran?s amber eyes had been trailing several ivy and stopped at the sound of her father?s amused question. She only turned half way toward him to answer.

?I don?t know.? Perhaps another might have said they weren?t hiding, denied it or the truth, or made some quip?but another would not have been Ran, and the woman was honest at least.

?You will miss out on the coming holiday. I quite like the little candy hearts,? conversational as the sun seemed to follow him and leave him in shadow. There were times when Ran wished she could steal more than an outline glimpse of him, and other times when her mind whispered that perhaps the not-seeing was best.

?Who did you bring the herbs and flowers from my garden to?? A gentle, but direct question from him.

?There is much kimon here,? Ran stated instead of answering.

The gentle rustle of her father?s clothing disappeared as he paused.

?You can sense it??

?Yes,? she replied. ?Is that not part of the reason why you brought me here??

She had not turned all the way around to look upon him, as it would have been a gesture in futility anyway?the light would simply be too bright?but she could hear the way his clothing moved once again, almost imagine the calm way he folded his hands without wide sleeves.

?Clever girl,? he finally murmured in reply.

Ran smiled as a cloud slunk across the sky, leaving a splotch of darkness on the ground below.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2008-07-08 04:42 EST
http://img144.imageshack.us/img144/8166/oaksaplingqm8.jpg

Here, the sunlight was always warm and never weighed cold with new things or memories. It filtered through impossible trees while the safety of her father's garden remained forever and ever, amen. None could harm it, none could change it, and none could demand that she look at them or touch them.

Her hands were gloriously bare and without the blue suede gloves which kept them from touch. They were buried in the perfect coolness of rich earth that reminded one of childhood's tottering steps. Between her hands a single sapling shivered in the breeze and tried its best to stand strong and arise to the sun.

"And what is that ones name?" Asked her Father. Perpetually blotted out by a sun that was never behind him. She turned her chin over shoulder and looked up--because she could look at him even though she saw nothing.

She thought about it, weighed it heavily and tasted the decision in her mind. "Damien," she told him.

"Ah," he replied with, perhaps, a touch of sorrow. He reached out placed a hand on her shoulder.

Trees remember everything, and they live until we are no more than dust. I hope that I will not be a tree. I do not think I want to remember everything, but I do not like to see names and memories fade. So I plant trees and give them the names of people fading.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2008-07-16 08:15 EST
http://img246.imageshack.us/img246/3826/filldirtgp1.jpg
After a moment, he removed his hand from her shoulder and folded them before his middle. They disappeared into the long folds of his sleeves long enough to be still during the spaces neither of them spoke. It seemed that he changed his mind about his hands, however, as two fingers gestured subtly to the hole Ran had dug in the ground beside the sapling.

"You are planting another?"

Ran leaned back, dirt stained hands placed flat on the top of her thighs. She watched the oak sapling quiver near her knees with the wind.

"No."

"No?" He countered her immediately, then eased himself down to the earth in the manner old men with stiff joints would. The question was there, it waited patiently as Ran simply let the wind gather her thoughts.

"Not yet," she finally answered.

"Ah," he said. As if he understood. A small part of Ran actually rankled at the tone--it surprised her and she collected such a thing for later thought. "So it is a place for one you are not sure you will need to plant yet?"

"Hai." Ran's reply was quiet. "Life is dangerous living," nearly monotone alto came as the girl bent forward again, fussing with the dirt near the oak sapling.

"Do you have so little faith in others, Ran?"

Freckled fingers were inspected, the brown beneath nails she'd need to scrub.

"No. Something about the place, I think, draws them and then spits them out. A revolving door. I cannot keep up. " Ran would forever be quietly, slowly, plodding about in the background while time rushed on.

So it was that she prepared a place for Nikolai.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2008-10-10 11:36 EST
http://i265.photobucket.com/albums/ii239/OnLittleFeet/th_ToyokawaInariShrine.jpg


"People are strange."

Fall had come and gone through the gateways, but beyond them her Father's garden was forever summer. The oaks, the willows, they were as green and bright as any human eye could fathom. As always, he was in the sun, no matter if he did not stand directly in front of it. His navy blue hakama spread along the sweet, bared earth like dark puddles after the rain. His hands were not age spotted, but they held the work and wear of a man who had tilled the ground for many years.

"Ran," A reproachful tone. This statement of people being strange, coming from her? "Of course they are, when you are outside looking in. Or pretending."

The flower prophet said nothing to this, bent over a hole dug by her bare hands.

"It has been a while--" He stopped to squint at the never changing sky, as if it could help him estimate time. "--you are working? Not selling flowers? So that is why the lotus have been quiet."

Ran rubbed her fingers together, dirt smeared. It was just to smell that freshly dug earth smell, old grass.

"I bring them some times, but I find it more difficult as time goes by to cut them. To hear them mourn." Here, when she was not behind a bar, her mannerism returned to neutral, calm. She spoke in a near monotone, and rare was it to rattle the woman out of such annoying calm; bits and pieces of it leaked on occasion when she worked, though she must have been a strange one herself slinging drinks--she rarely smiled and never raised her voice.

"Winter is on its way there, isn't it? Do you need anything to help with the pain the season brings?"

Ran perhaps, did not realize how her hand flattened against her stomach as she shook her head, dark auburn wisps of hair loosening from braid.

"Ran," he murmured. "I will not call for you yet."

Ran turned her head from her Father's quiet words, as if by doing so, she could pretend he had not said them, that he did not remind her of her duty, and that she could go on digging in the summer sun, no matter how much winter ached.

A Fox Mask

Date: 2009-02-07 11:59 EST
http://img230.imageshack.us/img230/5461/seedlings014ea8.jpg

"And who are they?"

Her father, forever in the sun, pointed a long hand to the seedlings winding lazily through the newest patch of grass.

"Hawk," Ran murmured, pointing to one. "Fia, Nikolai, Koyan, Mesteno, Thorn, Shylah, and--" bare fingertip rested upon the much older, stronger seedling. "Damien."

"Ah," her father hummed to himself. After long moments with nothing but the sound of Ran's hands digging in the soil, he placed a palm on her shoulder. "Have they all gone? Already?"

"No," absently murmured. Ran took a handful of the earth and let it fall through her fingers just to smell it. Just to smell the sweet dampness, earthworm depth, glorious richness of untainted dirt. "Not yet. Only one. I think another, I do not see much anymore, and a few others are busy. There is one I do not think I will plant....She is already dead and yet alive. It does not seem right. Perhaps I will whisper her name to a flat river stone."

Ran's father squeezed her shoulder gently. "That is good, then."

"Hai," she told him absently, bending down to return to work. "It is good."