The sibilant sound reverberated around the bayou, licking over leaves and Phyllomedusa alike.
It hadn’t been long since the mists had cleared, well, mostly cleared. Patches lingered here and there, as things were wont to do. Strands of spanish moss clung to branch and rigging; giving foot, toe and claw holds to all manner of creatures making their way through an environment never clear, never obviously dangerous or benign.
For some, a life apart was the only true way of living.
Never quite comfortable at the beginning, all things take some getting used to. Even ruts take time to wear in, furrows some time to plough. Some find comfort in the familiar, unaware of, or perhaps not caring about the wearing away and moulding they receive in return. The grit in the shoe, the twitching discomfort of muscle or soul, these plagued some past the point of forbearance. For better or worse, the pursuit of something ‘other’ had to begin.
The season of Sakura is here!
The words whispered through the lanes, rounded corners, and whistled through the leaves of the Shrine Tree.
Words of all languages, from all lands. From tongues long lost, their syllables faded from all worlds but this. Cries of pure sound, filled with meaning even before understanding speech. The murmured, the whispered, the silence of words only thought, or communicated by gesture, by touch. Their soft breeze gently nudged the lanterns hanging from every bough. Shouts, yells and screams shook the ground, sending showers of petals down from branches high above.
I followed the scent of the blood of the Fairechylde
Through mountains and valleys to Celestial Plain
The air reeks of ancient and colorful magic
But soon I will flood it with gloom and decay.