by Mousen » 09/10/2018 4:53 PM
Morte smiled, pleased that his young visitor appreciated his tales. "Indeed I can, young one! There's a particular story I think you'll like very much. It involves a young cavillion, born in the furthest reaches of the Wilt'no Desert. She was full of spirit, even at a young age, and always wanted to have adventures. She wasn't scared of anything. But, she was the second child of five and her mother was very strict. Her father had vanished several years before and her mother struggled to look after everyone on her own. When the cavillion was only 12, her youngest sister vanished too. The cavillion, a dreamsnare with lovely glowing markings, struck out on her own the year after. She wandered until she found a circus passing by, who agreed to take her in if that was really what she wanted. She found she had a gift for dancing and was taught by a woman called Drucilla. Soon, she was able to perform with the others. She would dance, switching between forms and leave glowing patterns in the air, she would soar above the audience on the trapeze! It seemed she'd found her calling.
But even that became a little dull, after a time. So, she went wandering. Sometimes with a young man, who over the years she'd spent at the circus, had become her brother, sometimes alone. One time, while alone, she wandered into Basantha Shrine and found a terrible sight. A battleheart, emaciated, shivering, curled around a candle. He was mourning a loved one passed, refusing to let her go. Unable to stand such a sad sight, she did everything she could to try to help him, and in the end, he agreed to go with her. With such a powerful ally, the cavillion thought she may go back to the desert and look for her youngest sister. Fate had other plans, though, and the cavillion was suddenly attacked! A rogue garudor tried to end her life, but the battleheart stepped in and fought bravely. He was badly injured, and not knowing where else to take him, she took him back to the circus. She took care of his wounds, and the battleheart realised that he could grow to love someone this fierce and this caring, and the cavillion realised that she, too, could grow to love someone as brave as the battleheart."
Zari smirked a little as Morte began telling a story she recognised very, very well. "C'mon, I think we should leave them to-" she paused. "Is that my phone ringing?" It was very faint, but the repetitive sound of a ring tone could be heard. "Give me a minute, I must have left it at the caravan."
We’re all hysterical & going nowhere together.
C’mon rapture. Let’s go bedazzling.
Nothing gets futured without its own spitshine
& I’m already not not not not not not miraculous.