Blind to their stares...

[icepanda]

The sun was directly overhead in the clear, blue sky, beaming down on the residents as they went about their business. The day was unusually warm for the beginning of winter. It felt as though the season was spring, slowly recovering from winter, than autumn slowly approaching it. People passed in ragged clothing and the streets smelled of sweat - from the flow of bodies that showed no sign of ebbing - as well as animals, cooked food, and many other intermingling smells that essentially meant civilization and life.

A woman passed by slowly with a plain, wooden staff in her smooth, fair-skinned right hand. She was dressed anything but raggedly in a shimmering silver gown that swirled about her ankles as she made her way slowly along the sides of the main paths, avoiding the bustling crowd. A soft, white cloth was wrapped around her eyes, tied in a loose knot at the crown of her hair and pressing against her long, raven hair.

The world was louder to her, and the smells richer. She heard people arguing, laughing, even some wondering why she had a cloth around her face. She could hear the inflection and rhythm of their voices; she knew who was happy, sad, even in love, by their tones and words. The scents were so rich; she smelled food that rivaled royal dishes in flavor, if not in content and quantity. She was content to feel things vicariously through the blur of people passing her by that she would never feel herself.

She was not jostled wherever she went, as if she was protected by an invisible bubble. People were content to jostled people who looked and lived like themselves, but she was strange in her clothing, and stranger with a cloth wrapped around her head.

As she passed by a stoop, she heard whispering.
"I don't know.. Wait, I do - I think she's blind. Yes, that makes sense..."
She could imagine that she looked odd to people used to seeing everyone passing by with their eyes downcast, or cast toward the sky, or anywhere, really. Just with eyes. One could not effectively convey looking or seeing through cloth, although if it were possible, she would have been adept at the skill by now.

She finally found her way into a side street, and pressed her back against a white-washed building. It dimmed the sound of the crowd, so she knew it was not another main street. She clasped her hands around her staff, planting it directing in front of her feet and leaning her weight slightly into it. She was so desperately bored, and she didn't know how to deal with it or cope with it. It was strange to hear other people conversing, and not to do it for oneself.

[Diamond Hawk]

Summer has come and passed,
The innocent can never last,
Wake me up when September ends.

Like my father's come to pass,
Seven years has gone so fast,
Wake me up when September ends.

The rhythmic steps of four well-muscled legs carried a young knight through the sea of peasants. The legs were not just brown in color, but a beautiful red-brown, shimmering dully in the daylight and starting below the knee, their reddish-brown merged into a more reserved sable color. The breaths of the great beast were far from labored and his head moved up and down in time with his leisurely gait. He was at ease for the moment, striding confidently down the busy street, unperturbed by the many goings on. He was a friendly beast, a level-headed animal and he was a simply gorgeous horse. One of the mighty Cleveland Bays, a breed that had originated in Great Britain, he carried his master with calm pride, protected his human companion in battle and fairly depended upon the two-legged for his meals.

A sword hung casually by the mortal’s slender waist and a cloak the color of deep evening flowed from the knight’s shoulders, with the hood resting under long sandy locks, glimmering brightly with good health and a face more beautiful than the perfect seas of Greece looked upon the proceedings, not even noticing the serfs that crawled together in their ever-present masses. The hazel eyes were just as lovely as the face, which, surprisingly, was not of a man.

The knight was a girl, and a beautiful girl at that. She hardy looked the part of a warrior, with her scar-less pale skin and refined features, as clear as a mountain pool in the morning, crystal clear and undisturbed. Her hair hung at a nearly-even length, shorn strategically to frame her flawless face a mite imperfectly, hunting at her fiery nature. Her name fit her lovely appearance; Diamond she was called, Diamond Hawk, but she preferred that the prefix “Dame” be affixed to the front of her name. She had been knighted, after all.

She wore the clothes of a man, but they must have been made for a very small man, had she been any normal low-nobility knight, for they fit her quite well. They were not, in fact, made for any man or boy, but for her, personally, by her father’s tailor. Her father, a noble, was in very high favor with the king, not to mention very rich, and he positively doted upon his eldest daughter, not perhaps treating her as he would the son he had never had, but still holding her in very high regard. Upon first meeting Diamond, or even within knowing her for a length of time, one might have stated that she had the perfect life, or close to it, or else that she herself was very close to perfect, but one would be beyond incorrect.

Diamond was the most spoiled bitch for miles around and she had a temper too. The dame thought rather highly of herself, was hot-headed, impatient and completely inconsiderate. She had almost everything that a girl of her mindset could possibly ever want, but she was still gluttonously greedy. She didn’t set goals for herself; she set out to get more of what she already had with selfish desire. Of course she would never admit such a thing, but she was a rather bad liar. She befriended few and she insulted many. She was the apple of her father’s eye and her sister’s source for all envy and jealousy. She outshined all of those around her, but she cast a sickly green light, infecting all who were to bask in it. She was intoxicatingly beautiful, outrageously skilled and nothing more than a fool.

She was going nowhere in particularly, but she was hardly wandering aimlessly, not with her sense of purpose, anyway. She was not disconcerted by the whispers of the gossiping underlings as she passed them, but she was in fact, rather enjoying them. She liked the idea of being talked about, especially by the peasants, which meant that her self-supposed fame had spread even to the lowest run of society. But she couldn’t just wallow through their never-ending ranks without it looking mightily suspicious and so, she strayed away from them, heading toward the usually deserted hills, feeling her bow that was slung across her back along with her quiver filled with arrows and thinking of doing some hunting before the sun reached the top of the sky at noon. Slowly, but all too fast for Diamond, the peasant crowds began to thin and she put Tiger, her glorious Cleveland Bay, into a slow jog, scanning the area for lingering onlookers, and those that remained all shank away from the horse of the lady-knight that was suddenly moving at a much faster speed, all but one.

Diamond opened her mouth to shout at the woman who did not even hint at shrinking away at her presence, but the words caught in her throat, strangled by the girl’s unusual appearance; a narrow strip of clothe across her face where her eyes should have been staring in uncensored awe. Frowning slightly, she let the gelding sink back into an energetic walk as she paused before her hunting trip to examine this oddity.

“Well, well,” She started, and her sweet voice sounded like lazy afternoon chimes swinging gently in the wind, etched with the Scottish tone, “what have we here?”

Here comes the rain again,
Falling from the stars.
Drenched in my pain again,
Becoming who we are.

As my memory rests,
But never forgets what I lost,
Wake me up when September ends.

___________________________________________________

Word Count: 907
Listening to: Wake Me Up When September Ends by Greenday
Mood: Cranky
Notes: I haven't listened to this song in awhile

[icepanda]

She had heard the clatter of a horse's hooves approaching. Her pulse had quickened in excitement long before she could smell the majestic animal. Every noise of his approach was gathered and appreciated. She loved horses. She bonded with them easily. Horses were easier to bond with even than people. They didn't have the comprehension to notice her infirmities. She was a horse whisperer. It was amusing to think that she could only be outgoing when it came to horses, but it was a truth of her life that she had accepted.

She was taken back by the smooth, silky tones of a female. The rider was a woman? She had expected a male, but then, it made sense. She couldn't smell the natural scent most males possessed. The fact that the woman was riding a horse suggested that she likely wealthy. Her words were spoken in the manner of a warden finding a prisoner attempting escape. In all probability, this woman was of high status. Morina loved her voice. Something about it was almost lyrical, but mocking. Sultry, yet she could imagine that voice commanding attention. It was different from most women. Women who spoke with men tended to have lilting tones and flirtatious words, whereas women who spoke with other women tended to speak more quietly, as if they were sharing gossip about someone in the room. That was usually the case, but such was the way of things. This was unique.

“A horse and two noble women.”

Morina responded in simple, smooth voice. Her words were clipped, and while affected by the Scottish accent, she spoke in a very neutral tone. She had turned her head in the direction of the speaking woman out of courtesy, but there was no point. All she saw was black. She always saw black. She felt the soft cloth shift a tiny fraction with her movement, and her silky black hair caressed the smooth fabric of her shimmering dress. She remained in her position, leaning her back against the wall behind her and pressing her weight into her staff.

Her expression warm and approachable – at least, what expression she could have with only the lower portion of her face exposed. 'Warm and approachable' was smiling with one's eyes and lips, but Morina was only capable of one type of smile. She had a non-threatening presence, or at least that was the presence she tried to portray.

“I am Lady Morina Gordon. You have a beautiful horse.”

[Diamond Hawk]

I will paint my picture
Paint myself in blue and red and black and gray
All of the beautiful colors are very very meaningful
Grey is my favorite color
I felt so symbolic yesterday
If I knew Picasso
I would buy myself a gray guitar and play

Diamond had not been expecting such an answer from the woman, and she sat up a little straighter, mildly alarmed by the unusual words. Then, as she comprehended them, she looked around her for the other women and their horse.

“What?” He demanded, quickly becoming wary of the woman with the band of fabric across her eyes. Being brought up with her choice of the best of everything and only the best of everything, the young knight was highly suspicious of how this girl was so different, so damaged. Then her voice changed quickly to light sarcasm, as she would reserve the rest for later.

“Really, where?” He asked, looking about her again, but this time her visual search was to emphasize that she did not see two noblewomen and a horse approaching, but the woman couldn’t see her anyway. Alas, the dame had such potential as a young knight, so why were her hazel eyes so blind to the world around her. She had been gifted with sight, so why didn’t she use it? She could not see that the “two noblewomen” was referring to herself and the woman with the band of cloth across her eyes and she hadn’t yet figured out that the horse that had been mentioned was her own, beloved Tiger. What was more, she would have argued with the woman declaring herself as a “noble”.

“I don’t see them.” She declared, her beautiful voice on the border of a cool evening. She literarily looked down on the strange woman, her nose too high for its own good and her lower tensed in the hint of a distained curl. The woman was probably nothing more than a peasant and peasants deserved little better than to be ordered around and stubbed by their superiors, an elevated class of nobles to which Diamond belonged, but the Scoailte wasn’t finished playing with her serf find just yet.

“Where are—?” But she stopped, mid-sentence, taken aback by what the woman had complemented her with. Tiger was a good-looking gelding, but she had not expected to hear such a thing coming from someone whom she thought to be a crude origins. She froze for a moment, actually at a loss for words, if such an occurrence was possible. She stuttered, something that was positively unheard of for someone of her likes and finally managed to squeak.

“Er, er, th-thanks. Thanks very much, er, what’s your name?”

She had been planning to rudely demand where the woman was from, but everything she had just said had immediately changed Diamond’s opinion of her. She still thought to girl to be a peasant, but at least she was dealing with a peasant with sense and some manners.

I want to be a lion
Everybody wants to pass as cats
We all want to be big big stars, but we got different reasons for that
Believe in me because I don't believe in anything
and I want to be someone to believe

______________________________________________

Word Count: 448
Listening to: Mr. Jones by the Counting Crows
Mood: So-so
Notes:

[/i] None

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[icepanda]

"I am Lady Morina Gordon.. I adore horses. I was listening to you coming, and I'm very glad you stopped here. I expected a male knight, but you are a delight I couldn't have anticipated."

Morina's lips were curled into a broad smile, bearing a clean, white smile. Although hygiene wasn't necessarily a trait of great standing with some of the nobility, she had a hard time accepting anything but a smooth texture on her teeth. She did what only people with such concern did about whitening their teeth: use a gritty combination of ground up snail shells and other ingredients to rub across the surface. It worked fabulously, and she had been told her teeth were white. White was a color like clouds, which she did not completely comprehend. Rain, she understood. The smooth texture of her teeth she also could understand.

This woman rider was beautiful in Morina's eyes simply because she was not a man. Morina associated horses - as well as the slap of a sheath against the rider - with male knights. Some knights were very crude and not as romantic as their titles suggested, and more than once she had been offered a warm bed and a night of sleeplessness if her curiosity about men ever piqued before she was married off. The requests were never eloquent, either, as if being talked to vulgarly might entice her to be curious. It delighted her that this rider was a woman on many different levels, but one of them was that it gave her the same satisfaction she would have if each of the knights she had encountered who were less than romantic would have fallen off his horse at the time of his proposition.

She doubted the noblewoman caught any flak about having the position that was routinely held by men. After all, this was a noble woman, and she had to have some brass about her to speak the way she did. This blue blood was an absolutely perfect example of what Morina strove for. She was the blind woman who wandered in a pasture of horses despite warnings that she might be trampled. She had a way with the animals. She had ridden before despite her impairment, only trusting her father's horses to keep her safe. They had. She could almost feel the fear of the animal if it sensed something out of the ordinary.

[Diamond Hawk]

x
Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the streetwise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and I turn
And I dream of what I need.

Diamond’s face looked like it had been fashioned by an angel, but over the years, she had come to regard it as her right to be beautiful as a heavenly creature and she expected to turn heads. The fact that she had not gotten this girl’s attention right off was already starting to annoy her. Couldn’t she take that stupid clothe off of her eyes and look at her? No, she must want to be difficult. Her delicate eyebrows came together in a frown as she regarded the other woman, her beauty, so undeserved, was not even marred by the way she moved her facial features.

She said she had expected a man, but what was Diamond supposed to say to that? She certainly wasn’t a man and she had never stopped to think twice of how lucky she was to be allowed to bear arms, even though she was a woman. Many a maiden would have begged her father for the opportunity that Diamond thought her right. Women weren’t supposed to carry swords and ride a horse astride and yet Diamond paraded around as if she owned all of Saor and the rest of Caledonia besides. She was a strong individual, who not only entered tournaments and war games, but pranced into battle with the best of the men and she was fiercely proud of it.

“Oh, I see,” She said, haltingly, “Why is that, do you suppose?” She was looking for a certain answer from the woman. An answer that would perhaps praise Diamond’s bravery and guts to ride about bearing arms or perhaps a ballad about how women made better warriors than men.

The bells from the steeple up on the hill began to ring and Diamond looked up, distracted for but a moment, but then she looked back at the strange woman who had failed to see her. Diamond had never had much respect for religion, even hers. She felt that devotion to deities got in the way of having fun and besides, it was such a nuisance to sit in a chapel for hours praying and singing. Priests were mostly hostile to her because many were convinced she was a witch, parading around like she had all her life and she had heard the words from the very lips of some of the Scottish priests how much they would have liked to burn her. Well, she did not much want to be burned: she had a whole list of things she would rather be doing than dying a martyr’s death at the stake.

She did like the sound that the bells created though, they reminded her that this was home as they floated out over the hills to meet her ears and Diamond loved her home. The weather suited her no matter what it was doing and she positively loved the spring when the flowers burst forth from hiding and rabbits haunted the forest roads. The food would be plentiful again, soon after the snow melted and the newborn fools were already started to run through the halfway snow-covered fields. Everything looked as it should be.

But things were terribly wrong in Saor; nothing was going according to plan this year. For one matter, the land was locked in endless war with Sceith, as had been the case for as long as she could remember, but there was something different about it this year…something slightly weary, as if the young, battle-loving damsel was growing tired of the endless fighting. True, she did like to show off her skills and risk her life gloriously in battle, but nothing varied from battle to battle and it was starting to wear on her.

I need a hero,
I'm holding out for a hero till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh fight.
I need a hero,
I'm holding out for a hero till the morning light.
He's gotta be sure
And he's gotta soon
And he's gotta be larger than life.

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___________________________________________

word count: 610
listening to: Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler
lyrics credit: Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler
mood: happy !
notes: forgot about this thread...apologies

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