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| Tricking the Trickster; <open, to one please.> | |
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| Topic Started: Oct 27 2008, 02:29 AM (124 Views) | |
| The Unfledged | Oct 27 2008, 02:29 AM Post #1 |
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Phedre was not given to fits of hysterics, most of the time. She was a levelheaded person, and always had been, but with over thirty personalities, who could tell? One moment, she was coy & shy creature, the next she could be blunt and savage - it depended on the day, the hour ... and of course, the tricks she was pulling. Even the Trickster needed to rest, however, and today was devoted towards her own personal well-being. The sky was bluer than blue, and she hummed to herself as she splayed out in the grass, listening to the sound of the waterfall. "Blue ... oooh, it's blue," she sang in her sing-song, high-pitched soprano, speaking to herself more than anything else. "What a pretty blue... I don't know what to dooo..." Branwen would have been more concerned about making sense, but it wasn't in her nature right now. Nature, it seemed, was in her nature right now. She could sit and stare at the trees and the plants all day long, with an uncommon fixation. The falls weren't as interesting by far, not with the animal and fauna life that surrounded her. I wonder if I could manage to trick a plant into thinking it was an animal, she thought to herself, impossibilities having no place in her life at the moment. As far as she was concerned, she could do anything, even animate inanimate objects - something that broke several laws of the Universe. What kind of trickster would she be if she didn't believe herself the best around? To fool others, you must learn to fool yourself, and she was very good at making herself believe that she was capable of things that even the gods weren't able to do. "Oh blue ... my only friend is you...," she sang again, oblivious to her surroundings, now that she was fully focusing on the grass beneath her, being crushed by the dress she was wearing, and her own weight. Can grass scream? Would I be able to hear it if it could? Shifting uneasily, she wondered if it could even feel pain; by calling "it" an it, though, she was successfully dehumanizing the plant. If grass was a thing, would it be a he or a she? Or would it be much like Phedre herself, a mix between both, though decidedly female in form. Her travel to Avalon hadn't been as smooth as she thought, and until she regained her ability of shifting, she would be stuck as a girl (albeit a very finely formed one). It was pretty day though, and she was content to play with her shocking red hair and let time pass around her, as though it could never touch her. She would never get older, or if she did, she would never appear it - partly because she was obsessed with keeping herself as youthful as possible. Her three forms, from the crone to the virgin maiden, were all a part of her;; however, that was not to say she enjoyed all of them. As the Crone, she was decidedly achy and sore all the time, and her back gave her all sorts of trouble ... not to mention the sounds that her knee's made when she bent down to retrieve a dropped coin. The maiden was too innocent and chaste for her taste, though she could approve of using it for some seductive purposes. The myriad of possibilities inbetween all of those forms seduced her and she found herself trapped in one of her favorite ones. She missed being a boy though. She missed it more than anyone could know. Like Tiresias of old, trapped for a hundred years as a female, just to settle a bet between Zeus and Hera, she was trapped in her form, despite it being a familair one, it was not always pleasant. Her mannerisms were a mix of gentlemanly courtship, and female modesty - and in the moments when her personality switched, she forgot herself and was always getting mixed up. It was easier to smoothly switch from place to place with the turn of her mind, than to stay trapped in one woman's body, craving another. Phedre sat up and giggled. "Nothing I can do, blue, oh, there is nothing I can do." |
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Reki means little stones. | |
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2:50 AM Mar 20
