And it was not hard, and it was not harsh, but she still fell and as she fell she did quick tumbles and somersaults, struggling with her new form and those new wings.
And soon she could feel something around her and as she craned her head beyond the streaking light, she did not realise it would be her last time seeing a sky so full of stars. (a trillion siblings giving their sorrows to see their kin cast down)
Had there been no pressure around her, she would have given her sorrow too; the way she used to flare dangerous heat that would curl, reaching around her sphere.
She has too many points to be a sphere now.
Her wings begin to unfurl! And she has mastered this art called breathing! Poysion could not before, but now as she begins to discern patches of land from each other a force pushes her towards a large swath of forest surrounded by water on most sides.
The sibling that grasps (and is softly held) by this rock-cradle smiles their grace down upon her wings. They will be the closest of them all until the end of Poysion's days.
They are a faint susurration through this air; their voices do not carry well through the medium. It seems she will only be able to hear them at the quietest of places.
These are trees!
The swath turns into a green sea, rapidly approaching. Poysion puts her blind faith in the heavens to guide her new body somewhere where she will not suffer.
She can slowly see brighter patches of green! It seems that she is not coming from above, but sideways, and she is graced with the view of wobbly circles of brighter green among dark green.
When the forces push her to look back at the sky Poysion can see she has left a scar; white streak amongst cloudless sky.
Poysion will brush the tops of these trees soon, their spikes frighten her, as they are a shape she has only seen around her siblings. A crown of Gaia's might.
Poysion hits branches, leaves, more branches and snaps them off as she curl into an even tighter ball, until finally she hits the mud of the rock-cradle and slides against it until she is bounced off a tree and subsequently sent to her final resting place.
Poysion's breathing evens out, and she masters it again.
She imagines that in this in-between, the roar and thunder of all of her siblings is heard even among the exiled gods. Poysion shuts her eyes to the noise of a trillion final tears; the stars live long lives, and cannot afford grief.
The closest sibling shines their benevolent grace upon her.
It is only years later, that she realise the sun is not a sibling.
The Sun Thief
Who is she?
Who stole the second sun and cast the poles to darkness and cold.origin of progress
Who is more hated in the north than your temperate forests.bringer of long nights
Who created the stars from shards of the second sun.magna mater to you and your kin
The sun (that old hag, and yet so strong as she walks the sky each day searching for her son) is Poysion's mother in a way, if the second sun was her son and she part of him. Or perhaps a grandmother? Since the son had to be shattered by Sunbond, and wouldn't that make Sunbond her mother and the second sun her father?
And who are her other grandparents? Whencefore did Sunbond surface? She could not have sprung out fully formed, and where are the old hag's parents? Her spouse?
At least Poysion knows the sun does not hate her. She loves her. Though, it may be in a different way to her siblings the stars.
Poysion thinks that It is the most enduring form of love. The sun's warmth on your skin as she sits outside her parent's cottage. The contemplating broken by heat stacked upon heat for hours.
Not often does she have such clarity of thought. Most times it is muddled with knowledge of plants, positioning of organs, a certain cadence in a cough which indicates water in the lung.
A merchant had passed through last winter, suffering from a subtle heaving of the lungs. He'd not long for the world, only twoscore months 'til he met with the lonely lady. A long, rattling battle, she knew this. No star-bought interference for such a godless man.
Poysion had bought his entire stock of dried herbs from the far south. Plants she knew to lessen ailments of the cold, cure maladies of the lungs, throat, nose — for her village. He had thanked her for her patronage and promised to come back next winter, ignorant of the price he'd set on his own death. five corpses of forest game for five night's dinner, the rest of his life coughing in the city Poysion know to be half a year up north she knows she knows she knows—
This clarity is to be celebrated! Poysion raises a clamour in her little clearing with the wisps in the sky her audience, so too the gossiping grass now trampled by her efforts.
A mass of stomping will certainly attract her attention, and Poysion wants her to answer: who are you to me? What do you want from me?Heaving lungs, the colours seem so dull but the flowers so bright? why why why—
And the moon! She cries its crimes against her: Who are you to me? Are you my sib too? They certainly share the same magic, for Tekyre (that witch!) does not visit Poysion when the moon is at their most rotund.
The air is full of her hoots and shrieks, that she thinks even the trees are shying away from her crazed extasis, a furor befit of dying stars.
She notices the villager too late.
He stares at Poysion, wide eyed and marring the clarity with his mundanity.
What does she even look like now? Are her pigtails a mess? The skirt, dirty at the hems? Perhaps metal tools has fallen out her apron and won't that be a great mess to find now, a thousand curses that one cannot see themselves without a mirror.
What had she been thinking of?
She coughs and makes her way over to him, as solicitous as she can.How can I help you sir?
He shakes himself out of his stupor and starts to spin his sorrows.
They tell you that you were an adorable and obedient baby.
Your parents idly tell you between nights little stories about your childhood, long lost to the ambiguity of age and time.
One especially hot summer, when they were entertaining half the town in the clearing encasing their cottage you had managed to clamber onto one of the picnic tables brought by guests.
As your mother rests in her armchair by the fire and your father sets up the plates and cutlery they share a quick smile.
After conquering that hurdle, and gingerly stepping over long-forgotten wooden plates, you found a precious gem. One, untouched glass of lemonade amidst the wreckage and ruin.
Your parents giggle a little, and add that if it were not for the wonderful music, and lively dancing they would have stopped you from committing your crime.
After eyeing it a little, and testing the grip of the glass, you had (supposedly) started to glug the entire thing down, attracting the concerned attention of nearby party-goers, and making your Aunt scream in fright!
This is punctuated with a tickling from your father which you quickly dodge by jumping out of your seat and running to your mother. She comfortably situates you on her lap.
They had a good laugh about it afterwards, although they say your tummy was a little sore for some days afterwards on account on the quantity of drink in your stomach.
You recall nothing.
You say nothing.
The fire flickers on.
They tell you that, when you were a small child, you asked the oddest questions.
When were you going back to the sky?
Why was the sun not your sibling?
Could one possibly fly high enough to touch the stars and sky?
You remember nothing.
Incessant questions from a child are after all only harmless questions, and you are sometimes left alone.
Eventually your mother leaves you. Your father follows. You are left to contemplate the fire spitting in their fireplace alone.
folium cecidit et iam putrefacit
The night winds begin to pick up. The cold that comes from the north is freeing and welcome against your skin. The blue wildflowers that grow outside your parent's cottage sway heavily, but otherwise survive the contagious joy of the winds.
It will be winter soon, and with winter comes sickness.
sidenote can she fly anymore??? maybe she's too heavy now but when she was a child she could
The village is not small, and there are plenty of healers to go around but Poysion has a 100% success rate! Due to her odd character she isn't really trusted, so the others still have business.
maybe we can go into the village once
This is Sunbond. Origin of progress and magna mater to all stars bar the one that feeds Gaia.
She is also your creator.
When Sunbond stole the second sun, the gods tried to destroy the moon she put in its place, but only a million shards of magic would fly off; they were of a different magic to the gods, and consumer each other and only by the power of the gods were they even able to take a bit off
In a sense, you have four parents, the sun that shines its grace down upon Gaia, the moon that guides the lonely nights, the Celestials and Sunbond.
Sunbond will occasionally come and make use of your little cottage in the woods.
She is not very motherly.
carthage delenda est
Tekyre comes once more.
You do not know exactly why she continues to come, she tells you she should not have to keep repeating herself, and that it's rather backwards that an angel has to keep asking a lowly star where her mother is.
You tell her again and again that your mother has gone somewhere, and your father too.
Both your magics push and pull at each other, filling the void the other causes, cancelling each other out.
She cannot force an answer out of you, and you cannot compel her to leave.
A true stalemate.
The snows are harsh in the winterlands; the second sun must be returned Poysion.
I am part of the second sun?
Yes, but not the part the world needs.
The world needs healers, does it not?
Some days, when a certain scent finds its way up from the cold south, and a chill sets in, you wonder if she is talking about Sunbond.
In her dreams, she is always falling, falling, falling. She wonders if she could recognise herself even if she were a different colour, a different person entirely.
She does not know.
Poysion's Shoyru Adoptables
Please link back to /~poysion, do not remove watermark, custom trades are open, colour requests are open, don't use in contests, for more rules go to Confectionery. Listed in alphabetical order.
Art from others
From Beyond The Batter
Again, thank you all! :D
OLD THINGS LIKE STORY OH MY
SHE LIVES IN A FOREST, SHE'S A HEALER THE END
jk, she goes around collecting a lot of ingredients for her potions too, oh my!Name: Poysion (ˈpɔɪ-z(ə)n)
Birthdate: I arrived here from the stars on the 21st of December
Age: I'll never know I think
Family: The other lantern keepers I guess, though I've never met another
Friends: Tekyre perhaps.
Traits: I'm not sure what to say here
Personality: Genial mostly, shy, sweet
Clothes: Dress with a smock and hidden pockets
Legend tells that, in the sky there are these stars, hidden amongst other stars in the night sky that are in fact, wishes. These wishes are kept in lanterns which are guarded by a lantern keeper. The lantern keepers sails along a sea in the sky that is only visible to them. Should you wish upon a lantern keepers "star", the wish would come true and the lantern keeper would be reborn into Neopia.
So like magic that is magic enough to become a person or something, need to clarify.
Sunbond, origin of all that is kind and mother to the stars.
Ah... Sunbond. Origin of progress and mother to all stars bar the one that feeds Gaia.
This is my inadvertent creator, Sunbond. She occasionally comes for shelter.
When Sunbond stole the sun, shards of it shattered and created the stars and the moon we see today. So, she is my mother, and I owe her the help for my creation.
Headshot art by me, don't steal!
The sun was the source of a different kind of magic than the Gods'. They are mutually destructive, each eating away at the other until no magic can been used by either the Gods or the type cast by the moon and Primordials.
Tekyre is hunting Sunbond down, to regain the sun and bring power back to the gods.
Sunbond is not a very good mother; she cares only for her own existence. Poysion does not realise this, Tekyre would have cast Poysion away long ago if their magic did not eat away at each other.
Eventually her village will wither away ;-;
The petpage will revolve around village and sunbond visiting then Tek visiting
Lives in a hut in a clearing next to a river, if you go upstream you reach the small town?
aliquis latet error
If you want to exchange links neomail me! I'll take people with the same theme or neopet species; remember I really really want to link to you! ;)
Quote from Alan Watts
aliquis latet error | 'Some (other) trick lies hidden.' (Vergil, Aeneid II 48) Aeneas retells the Trojan war; guess what he's referring to ;) Many ways to translate this I think.
folium cecidit et iam putrefacit | A leaf fell and it is now rotting.
carthage delenda est | 'Carthage must be destroyed.' The Roman senator Cato the Elder reportedly ended all his speeches with this, it's rather funny.it seems to me that as trees grow
the darkest things they'll begin to know
Background from Mariposa
About the instability of memory and memory isn't bound by time either! she probably remembers things in the wrong order. (ZAYN ‒ Dusk Till Dawn)
Maybe she has to face the villagers woooot