The day had dawned bright and clear, the sun glittering off the snow in the way that caught Svasra's eye the moment she peeked out of her door. It would be peaceful this day, a small break in the snowstorms that barraged the season of winter (and all seasons, come to think of it) in the ice city of Avanthal. As her boots clomped through the streets, hands lightly holding a leather-bound book of hers, Svasra breathed in the crisp air with a smile. What else could she really do? It was beautiful today, and Svasra practically felt the words emerge from the bright snow, the gentle warmth of the sun, the calm air that surrounded Avanthal . . .
Svasra pushed open the door of the Red Diamond, now humming quietly under her breath, the walk here setting a light mood within her mind. She breathed in the scents of the tavern, of the fermented drinks, the soups, the bread, whatever else was on the menu for the morning. It wasn't too busy at this time, as Svasra looked over the meager crowd with a gray-blue gaze. She felt her the pocket of her coat for the ink jar and quill she'd stuck in before she left, making sure it was there as she settled at a table.
At first, Svasra was content to just sit and write out the poem that had come to mind on the way here. She could easily remember it, and recall it years later - such was the nature of Vanthas - but she wanted it documented, maybe even preserved to be read in generations to come.
Like mists clinging upon the green renewal of spring
The dazzle of snow, yet riddled -
Suddenly, Svasra looked up, eyes flashing a light violet for a moment before she detected it. A noise. No, not a noise - Svasra chided herself for calling it such - music, it was wonderful music. Once noticed, Svasra found the source quickly, looking over to see a flutist seemingly lost within the world she wove with her song. For a moment, Svasra could only stare, and let the tune fill her mind, stirring her heart, and bringing a certain story to light. She was amazed it wasn't apparent to begin with, appreciating the skill of the flutist for a few moments.
She tried to stay in her seat, and try she did, looking down at her unfinished work, attempting to bring her concentration back to task. That's what it felt like now, a task, work, and Svasra knew she would never finish it with that attitude. Looking up, the woman rose and packed her things quietly, then walked over to player.
Svasra tried to convey to keep playing as she settled down in front of the fire, setting her coat beside her. The quick pace and jaunty tune thrummed her soul, and she needed to accompany it, tie it into this journey . . . this legend.
"In a land where earth didn't exist, where things are weightless, and without substance . . . lay the world of the Gods." Svasra's voice drifted over the tavern in the same unassuming way as the music, but this time, the words drew attention. Eyes slowly looked up, turning towards the pair that were by the fire, one playing, one leaning against the hearth. In her mind, she took in the audience, gauged their interest, did they look up quickly? Did they seem to appear irritated? Were their eyes changing colors? She took it in, and then plowed on.
"It was a place of stars and light, plain, and elaborate . . . everything and nothing. Within it, strode our Queen, the Goddess Morwen, on her throne one of stars and cold ice, " she paused to let the flute play a few bars before continuing, "Midst her head frolicked songs and art, beauty beyond imagining and boundless creativity. Her eyes, keen, watchful, and bright with color, held the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes and the knowledge of a thousand more. Her hand, held life and delicate ability, eager to move, eager to tell the tales of its mind. Her heart, though, where we know all things are truly born . . . was empty.
"It lacked inspiration within the world she lived in, the one that would mold to her every need, the one where the Gods strolled easily and tampered with the lives of Men with their wills. It was . . . predictable," Svasra's voice dropped to a twang of despair, as though looking for salvation midst the audience. They'd all heard this story, they knew where it led though, and only listened.
"Morwen often looked upon the world of Mizahar, where races grew and bulged, where the lands were riddled with people and cities. Often, she walked on the lands, though found it too hot within the weather of Mizahar, confined to the cool climate of the North.
"It was lonely in the North though, as humans found it too cold to live midst its white expanses and ice.
"One day, Morwen was once again on the land of where Avanthal would one day be, looking up into the sky where she lived. It was bleak, and dark, with only the pinpricks of faraway stars to offer any type of beauty. The pale snow that pillowed her head gave Morwen inspiration, since we know white is only all the colors combined into one. Morwen raised her hand, and let her fingertips brush the night sky, drawing them along in a jagged pattern," here Svasra's own fingers raised to gently move around the air, mimicking the movement of the goddess of her story.
"At first, all that trailed was white beams, twisting and curving with a spirit of them own. Slowly though, they broke apart, humming with the energy of the stars themselves, flares of various colored lights across the night sky. They were the spirit of Morwen, the very living replica of her ever-changing creativity and mind.
"For a while, Morwen watched the lights, surprised at her own creation, unable to help herself as she painted a few more. Their energy was practically tangible, and when Morwen retreated back to her home, she was delighted to see that the lights were visible from the cosmic home of the Gods.
"Without thinking, Morwen reached out and touched the lights, feeling the crackle of its energy over her fingers, wrapping her own spirituality," Svasra paused, and felt the anxiety grow. This story never got old. "The moment she touched it though, the lights twisted on themselves, changing colors rapidly, so quickly that Morwen had to look away from the blinding white they released." Pause.
"Morwen was hesitant to turn back, afraid she may have ruined to beauty she'd created. Looking back though . . . she felt the fear turn into . . . surprise. Astonished, Morwen leaned in closer. She blinked, and gently prodded the thing within the light." The flute played midst the silence, and once more Svasra looked at her crowd, seeing them lean forwards, their eyes flickering colors, letting the tension grow.
"It was . . . a life." Another pause. "A brilliant, bright soul that danced with the colors of her light and the chill of winter. Morwen saw it was without a body though, and looked around her Goddess home, though she found nothing to give it. The soul pulsed, as though calling her, and Morwen saw it draw the lights she'd created closer.
"The lights. Morwen looked from the lights to earth where she knew they also flickered. Her hands, hands full of life, wonder, and color, cupped the soul in its bed of color. She blew on it, gently, and whispered," Svasra leaned closer, lowering her own voice and adding a gentle and loving tone to her voice, "'You are a child of Morwen, and shall live with my mark, under my lights.'
"With that, she sent it to earth on the lights, using its energy to take the soul from her home in the stars, to the solid plane of earth and snow. The soul entered a budding life, born with ever-changing eyes, raised by the Goddess herself as she created more souls of the lights. The children of the Lights and Morwen."
Svasra let the last of the story fall into the tavern, and saw she'd managed to keep most of the attention within the seats. Now they all smiled, and dipped their heads, as clapping was considered an obnoxious noise after a tale. The Vantha felt a flash of joy as she saw the approval and happiness in other people's features, sighing softly to lean with her shoulder against the wall to look at the player.
She was petite also, as most Vanthan woman were, obviously skilled in her music as she wove the background Svasra swore made the room glitter with the story. "You are amazing, I wanted to just listen, but the tune was so . . . perfect for the legend," she said with an apologetic grin, tucking a strand of black hair behind her ear. "I'm Svasra Snowsong."
by Wisteria on January 5th, 2013, 1:00 am 
