Username;; ABeardedDragon
Name;; Cora
Gender;; Female
Silly video;; x
Fire;;
Kenna
1005 words
The warm light flickers on the faces of the gathered viscets. They encircle a pair in the center; chanting and clapping as they dance around them. The starlit sky above them is hidden by the thick green leaves of the rainforest canopy. Cora is one of the pair, standing before the new warrior, waving a flaming torch as her body sways. The bird skull necklace around her neck rattles. Her amber eyes gleam with the fire, when she stops and holds the torch inches from his face. Silence. She watches his eyes close, the fire burning his skin.
"Stood here is our new warrior," she says as ahe raises her other arm in the warm air, "who promises to protect with the passion of the fire."
She twirls the torch so it lights a pile of painted wood beneath her. The chanting starts again as she collects the ashes, mixing them with warrior's blood. Cora stands and the chanting roars louder. Her hand trails over his face softly, painting rich red lines. For a few moments, the tribe hums as she holds her palm against his chest, eyes closed and head thrown back towards the sky.
"The soulfire blesses you," she whispers, "good fortune is headed your way."
Cora steps away to watch the crowd dance and sing. They eat together, but she isn't hungry. Her head hurts. She slips away into the thick forest growth, following her torch as she makes her way to her hut.
With a tired sigh, Cora sits heavily on the wooden log. In front of her, coloured glass and painted rocks surround a softly burning fire, the flames eat away her used torch. The ground is thick with ash. Her ears turn to listen to the viscling running towards her. She lifts one arm and traps the young one's head before she's pounced on.
"Yes, Kenna?" the viscet asks.
"Why are you here?" Kenna questions.
"I need a break," Cora replies.
"But it's soooo boring," the viscling bats at Cora's tail, "it's a stupid fire."
"Now now," she grumbles, "it wouldn't be if you listened to my stories, but you never do."
"They're made up stories," she says, "ooh a spooky soulfire, don't stray into the forest without it."
"Kenna," Cora growls, "have some respect. You might be the next shaman, your mother wants you to be."
"No," she raises her head, "I'm a big strong warrior. This fire is silly."
Cora shakes her head and rubs her face before she walks into her hut. The inside is lined with herbs, powders, fabrics, feathers and dyes. But she reaches for the pile of snow white sticks, wrapped in a red ribbon. Without a word, she throws them into the soulfire. It roars and crackles, the flames rise and lick the low hanging leaves above. Rays of all colours scatter across the dark floor and over the pair, reflected by the glass. The viscling is sat with wide eyes.
"Not boring? This is what your ceremony will be. Mine was just like this," the viscet smiles and hums.
"That's cool," Kenna says quietly, "I guess."
"They say the soulfire has never stopped burning, I have never seen it go out," Cora tells, "it is what gives everyone here their passion, strength and spirits. It protects our warriors. Blesses our hunters. Guides the shaman, us, we are one with the soulfire. It's the very core of our tribe."
"But fire can be mean," the viscling tilts her head.
"Well, if the wrong people have it," she says, "or wild fire, but sometimes they're good for us."
"How?" she asks, "it's bad."
"It helps the little trees grow big and strong," she strokes Kenna's head, "just like you."
"It's scary though," she replies.
"If you trust fire," Cora says, "it won't hurt you."
"It never hurt you?"
"Years and years ago, I was little like you" she whispers, "I was very scared. A huge fire came in and burned through the village and forest. I thought I'd lose everything. I was alone for a while because I ran away, scared. The fire trapped me but I was safe. It wasn't so bad, we rebuilt the huts. That's why we have empty land around us, it never grew back."
"But you said it does," Kenna says.
"It keeps the mean fire away," she explains. But of course, she speaks nothing of how she clinged onto life after breathing in the smoke. How she can't feel anything up her right arm. That the elder with burn scars was the one who jumped in to save her. Because that wasn't her soulfire.
"Why don't you go to bed?" she asks the yawning viscling. They had talked for so long, the forest was silent. Cora sits and watches Kenna disappear into the night. She leans into the warmth of the flames, eyes closed. When she was young, a traveler asked how the tribe could believe in something so silly.
"But mother said it protects everyone," Cora said.
"If I said cats fly, do they?" the traveler asked.
"No," she replied.
"So what makes your mother right?"
Later that night, Cora was curled by her mother.
"That stranger said the big fire is a lie," she whispered, "and nothing keeps us safe."
"Dear, what do you think?" she asked.
There was silence as she nestled into bed. Cora felt her heart beat, it felt warm in her chest, as if it burned softly like the soulfire.
"I don't know," she said.
"You don't have to defend you or what you believe to anyone," her mother smiled, "as long as it gets you through the day, it doesn't matter what others think."
"But what if it's wrong?" she asked.
"What you think about yourself and where you belong is only for you to choose," her mother stroked the youngster's ears, "you can't be wrong."
As her mother slept peacefully by her side, Cora stared outside at the fire before her, until she couldn't keep her tired eyes open.
Name;; Cora
Gender;; Female
Silly video;; x
Fire;;
Kenna
1005 words
The warm light flickers on the faces of the gathered viscets. They encircle a pair in the center; chanting and clapping as they dance around them. The starlit sky above them is hidden by the thick green leaves of the rainforest canopy. Cora is one of the pair, standing before the new warrior, waving a flaming torch as her body sways. The bird skull necklace around her neck rattles. Her amber eyes gleam with the fire, when she stops and holds the torch inches from his face. Silence. She watches his eyes close, the fire burning his skin.
"Stood here is our new warrior," she says as ahe raises her other arm in the warm air, "who promises to protect with the passion of the fire."
She twirls the torch so it lights a pile of painted wood beneath her. The chanting starts again as she collects the ashes, mixing them with warrior's blood. Cora stands and the chanting roars louder. Her hand trails over his face softly, painting rich red lines. For a few moments, the tribe hums as she holds her palm against his chest, eyes closed and head thrown back towards the sky.
"The soulfire blesses you," she whispers, "good fortune is headed your way."
Cora steps away to watch the crowd dance and sing. They eat together, but she isn't hungry. Her head hurts. She slips away into the thick forest growth, following her torch as she makes her way to her hut.
With a tired sigh, Cora sits heavily on the wooden log. In front of her, coloured glass and painted rocks surround a softly burning fire, the flames eat away her used torch. The ground is thick with ash. Her ears turn to listen to the viscling running towards her. She lifts one arm and traps the young one's head before she's pounced on.
"Yes, Kenna?" the viscet asks.
"Why are you here?" Kenna questions.
"I need a break," Cora replies.
"But it's soooo boring," the viscling bats at Cora's tail, "it's a stupid fire."
"Now now," she grumbles, "it wouldn't be if you listened to my stories, but you never do."
"They're made up stories," she says, "ooh a spooky soulfire, don't stray into the forest without it."
"Kenna," Cora growls, "have some respect. You might be the next shaman, your mother wants you to be."
"No," she raises her head, "I'm a big strong warrior. This fire is silly."
Cora shakes her head and rubs her face before she walks into her hut. The inside is lined with herbs, powders, fabrics, feathers and dyes. But she reaches for the pile of snow white sticks, wrapped in a red ribbon. Without a word, she throws them into the soulfire. It roars and crackles, the flames rise and lick the low hanging leaves above. Rays of all colours scatter across the dark floor and over the pair, reflected by the glass. The viscling is sat with wide eyes.
"Not boring? This is what your ceremony will be. Mine was just like this," the viscet smiles and hums.
"That's cool," Kenna says quietly, "I guess."
"They say the soulfire has never stopped burning, I have never seen it go out," Cora tells, "it is what gives everyone here their passion, strength and spirits. It protects our warriors. Blesses our hunters. Guides the shaman, us, we are one with the soulfire. It's the very core of our tribe."
"But fire can be mean," the viscling tilts her head.
"Well, if the wrong people have it," she says, "or wild fire, but sometimes they're good for us."
"How?" she asks, "it's bad."
"It helps the little trees grow big and strong," she strokes Kenna's head, "just like you."
"It's scary though," she replies.
"If you trust fire," Cora says, "it won't hurt you."
"It never hurt you?"
"Years and years ago, I was little like you" she whispers, "I was very scared. A huge fire came in and burned through the village and forest. I thought I'd lose everything. I was alone for a while because I ran away, scared. The fire trapped me but I was safe. It wasn't so bad, we rebuilt the huts. That's why we have empty land around us, it never grew back."
"But you said it does," Kenna says.
"It keeps the mean fire away," she explains. But of course, she speaks nothing of how she clinged onto life after breathing in the smoke. How she can't feel anything up her right arm. That the elder with burn scars was the one who jumped in to save her. Because that wasn't her soulfire.
"Why don't you go to bed?" she asks the yawning viscling. They had talked for so long, the forest was silent. Cora sits and watches Kenna disappear into the night. She leans into the warmth of the flames, eyes closed. When she was young, a traveler asked how the tribe could believe in something so silly.
"But mother said it protects everyone," Cora said.
"If I said cats fly, do they?" the traveler asked.
"No," she replied.
"So what makes your mother right?"
Later that night, Cora was curled by her mother.
"That stranger said the big fire is a lie," she whispered, "and nothing keeps us safe."
"Dear, what do you think?" she asked.
There was silence as she nestled into bed. Cora felt her heart beat, it felt warm in her chest, as if it burned softly like the soulfire.
"I don't know," she said.
"You don't have to defend you or what you believe to anyone," her mother smiled, "as long as it gets you through the day, it doesn't matter what others think."
"But what if it's wrong?" she asked.
"What you think about yourself and where you belong is only for you to choose," her mother stroked the youngster's ears, "you can't be wrong."
As her mother slept peacefully by her side, Cora stared outside at the fire before her, until she couldn't keep her tired eyes open.
