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 Posted: Sun Oct 30, 2022 9:42 pm
  Abiron & Ásdísprompt For as long as you or your ancestors can remember there has never been a day like this one. Something is sliding ominously across the sun in what should be full daylight. But as the hours pass, the darkness and the horror it brings grows. What’s wrong? Is this some prophecy coming to pass? Is this an omen? Did you or your herd know this was coming or were you caught completely unaware?
Eventually, something blocks out the sun entirely and all the sounds of the little creatures who live on this planet ominously stop. It’s as if the world is collectively holding it’s breath. Will the sun come out again? What are you thinking? Are you afraid?
Tell us what happens during the hours of the first full solar eclipse in memory.
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Posted: Sun Oct 30, 2022 10:57 pm
At the base of the mountains, surrounded by a thick, seemingly endless tangle of trees and underbrush, existed a small meadow. This meadow glowed under the warm autumn sun, leaves of gold and crimson dancing in the crisp wind that came down from the snow-capped peaks above. The grasses, already becoming browned and brittle, swayed lazily along, making the whole clearing look positively alive.
Ásdís stood in the middle, her feathers catching the breeze as her mane twirled around her face. Despite the sun beaming down from above, she shivered; despite the beauty all around her, she felt uneasy, on edge, like she was waiting for the other hoof to drop. Her eyes darted around the treeline, trying to catch sight of someone, something watching her from the dark depths of the forest.
The air seemed to hum around her. She learned early on from her father Abiron about the vibrations of the earth, the energy connecting her to the ground and the sky, and she now closed her eyes to focus on those vibrations. The trees were loud, the mountain louder, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Something happened that had never happened before, though. When she opened her eyes and looked up at the sun, it looked... different. Was part of it missing? A thin black sliver had appeared on one side, just barely visible against the glare of the light, but she knew what she saw.
Cold black dread bubbled up in her chest, and her first instinct was to run, but it felt like her hooves were stuck to the earth, and her legs weighed a thousand pounds. She couldn't run if she tried.
“Ásdís,” came a deep, rasped voice from behind her. She turned her head to see her father stepping toward her, watching the sun from beneath his antlers. His beads seemed to float in the air around him as he moved, the sound of them hitting each other tinkling softly.
“Father!” she exclaimed, her legs feeling back to normal as Abiron's presence grounded her. “Are you seeing what I'm seeing?” He nodded sagely, catching her gaze.
“I have a theory,” he began slowly, as though he was weighing every sound. “I've heard whispers of something like this. A shadow that slips over the sun, turns day into night, and...” He hesitated, studying her expression before finishing, “plunging the world into chaos.”
“Are you sure?” Ásdís asked, her voice soft. He shrugged.
“I've also heard of a shadow that slips over the sun that only stays around for a few hours, at most,” he said. “I've been in the forest since before the sun rose this morning. The world seems awake, but not afraid. I think this is a good omen.” His words were sincere – anyone who knew Abiron knew it was near impossible for him to lie, especially to his only daughter – and they seemed to calm Ásdís.
She agreed with his gut feeling. The air buzzed around her, almost like tiny lightning tingling against her skin, but there was no undercurrent of fear; only the subtle hum of excitement, drumming up from the earth through her hooves and into her veins.
Abiron smiled warmly at his daughter, beaming with pride as he watched her do the exact things he had done; his eyes closed, swaying with the breeze, listening to nature. He had so carefully trained her in the ways he had been trained, spurning the gender-based rules of his beliefs and teaching her everything he had ever learned and encouraging her to bypass even his skills. She had the ability, she just needed the experience and wisdom that came from practice.
“A ceremony, then?” she suggested, perking up. “Maybe we can sway the gods toward the latter option?” Abiron looked back up to the sun briefly; the sliver had grown larger. It wouldn't be long before darkness took over.
“It's never a bad idea to remind the Stars just how much we look to them for guidance,” Abiron agreed solemnly. “Clear the center of the meadow first. Gather the reddest leaves you can find, as many as you can carry, then harvest some wild rosemary. I'll gather the rest of the ingredients and meet you back here.” They each bowed their heads briefly in respect before heading off on their respective tasks.
Ásdís hurriedly began clearing the center of the meadow; tearing at the grass in a small, even circle, and trampling the grass and removing the leaves around it in another, wider circle. Then she began trotting around the meadow, picking every crimson leaf she could spot, picking them up in her mouth and stuffing them between her feathers in her wings for safe keeping. Only the deepest red would do for this ritual, and they were easy to find, standing out from the golds and oranges around them.
Once she had cleared the entire meadow, she unloaded all of the leaves back in the patch she had just cleared in the middle, tediously spreading them out in an even layer in the center circle. She went back to the place she and her father had been tending to wild rosemary, carefully farming the land and expanding one small plant to a healthy, thriving patch. She plucked a few sprigs and tucked them into her wing.
All the while, she had been glancing up to watch the shadow spread across the sun. And it was spreading alarmingly fast.
(words: 912)
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Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2022 10:32 am
Abiron collected his items silently, making a point to keep his eyes to the ground and avoid constantly checking the state of the shadow on the sun. His gut feelings, that had only ever been wrong a handful of times in his years, were telling him this was a good omen, one of growth and renewal. There was no feeling of Doom in the air, only the buzz of anticipation and unease.
But, despite his calm exterior, a small portion of him still worried. He had heard of the world being plunged into darkness, chaos ensuing, the only light to be found from fires as the world burned. Those are stories, he reminded himself as he gathered his materials; the most perfect ripe apple from a nearby tree, several long, straight sticks, and dirt from the base of the mountain, carefully folded into the reddest leaf he could find.
He made his way back to the meadow quickly, where he found Ásdís fussing with her stock of leaves in the center of the circle. He moved up beside her silently, laying out his ritual items as she had; the sticks in a pattern around the center, making almost a star shape, dumping the dirt in a small pile in the middle and placing the apple daintily on top.
When he finished, he looked back to his daughter, and felt another pang of pride. Despite her obvious uncertainty, she trusted him implicitly, and waited for his next instructions. He chuckled as he pulled a crisp, bright leaf from between her wing feathers, tossing it in the air and letting it gracefully float back down to the earth.
“What else should I do, father?” Ásdís asked softly, looking from their offering on the ground to her father's face, meeting his gaze. “Are we ready?” Abiron sighed.
Without a word, they both looked up at the sky. The sun was now almost fully covered, and darkness had begun to fall on the lands. The usual noise of the local wildlife had grown more and more quiet, the birds and animals underfoot tucking themselves away in their safe homes to wait out the shadow. The two Soquili waited with bated breath, watching as the shadow slipped over the final sliver of sun, plunging the world into darkness.
“Let's get moving,” Abiron said as soon as the last bit of sunlight disappeared, fighting the disorientation that came with full night time in the middle of the day. Ásdís got right to work, doing what she did best; she sang softly, to the wind and the trees and the earth, her gentle song floating up through the meadow and, she hoped, reaching the Stars. Her eyes drifted shut as she sang, her voice ebbing and flowing with the electrical hum of excitement in the air.
Abiron stood at the head of their altar, speaking the ancient words of his culture in a low, deep voice. Many of the words were not of his main language, but they seemed to flow through him like a river, his spirit opening up to the magic within them.
He and Ásdís finished their parts simultaneously, catching each others' eyes as they each said their final lines. They looked up; though the spot where the sun had been was still dark, somehow Abiron thought he saw the faint sliver of light beginning to appear in the sky.
“Do you think it worked?” Ásdís asked quietly, stepping in beside her father and scanning the sky for any hint of a reply from the Stars. Abiron nodded, grinning at his daughter and bumping her shoulder with his.
“Close your eyes and listen,” he said, shutting his own eyes and swaying in the light breeze. He felt Ásdís do the same beside him, and when he opened his eyes again, she was smiling too.
“Thank you, Father,” she said, buzzing now with the same excitement as the air around her.
They stayed there, quietly listening to the world, until the sun reappeared. Neither of them knew how long it had been hidden behind the shadow, a few hours at most, but when they left the meadow to head back to their cave for the night, the birds sang Ásdís's ceremonial song back to her, almost as if they were thanking them for reaching out to the Stars for safety.
(words: 725, FINISHED)
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