echo

[silverdust]

She was poised at the fountain's edge, still and stautesque as an alabaster carving. The child was bare, moonlight sparking off skin an ivory so pale it was inhuman, save a few ribbons wrapped about the chest, arms, and waist. They glared blood and fire against her, almost as if angry whiplashes. At her age there was nothing to be revealed in her nudity, save a promise etched in the cool satin. She herself seemed to know this, for her poise showed no shame, the shoulders arched back, head high, back straight as an arrow. A young goddess, or perhaps warrior, a slender silver sword dangling, entangled in ribbons, from her left wrist.

There was a breath of wind and she stirred, as if it had moved the life in her. With a flick, the weapon loosed itself, falling with a gentle clang against the stone. One foot reached forward with a dancer's grace, descending into the icy, rippling surface of the water. Without heasitation the other followed, leaving the child midwaist in the shallow fountain, it spouts cascading about her in their endless arabesque patterns. With another smooth, liquid motion, she lay back into the water's embrace. Her brown-rue, scarlet dipped hair spread in a tangled halo, coming free of their loose pigtails to frame the delicate face. Or rather, half a face. Three painted eyes stared unblinkingly into a night sky they couldn't see, red and black kohl against a bone-white mask. The child-goddess was blind.

Yet even though all in her vision was darkness, it was not all that she could see. She lay in the water, ignoring the icy grip, and listened. Listened past the ripples and rush of the droplets and fountains, and tried to hear the symphony beyond. Give me what the water sees, give me its echoes. There was a rush of wind, the clatter of a faraway carriage, a mother's lullabies. Partial stories, partial songs, but a poetry that only one without sight could understand. They were not mere fragments to her.

[ferabird]

She interrupted the subtle tones and noises that wove the night-time symphony with her lightly padding footsteps, lovely pallid fur-tones accented by moonlight. "Good evening, youngling." she said by way of greeting, tufted ears lain disarmingly back. Not that the child could see her expression, but then again one's voice tended to be far harder to falsify that expression. This one's tones were as haunting and whafting as her fur pattern, as gentle and unassuming as a light mist.

She swept forward upon re-shaped hinds, her anthropomorphic form having been assumed previous to her approach. They made quite a pair... the younger brightly shining whilst the approaching femme held more of a soft glow. She was hardly so innocent to look upon as the girl, her nudity downright scandelous. But who would make her do any different? She'd no cast, no puppet master's guiding hand. And as she had no intention of toting about shawls or veils to cover herself after a shift, thus would it stay.

[silverdust]

((s'okay, I can wait a bit ^_^))

[silverdust]

Seibhizion heard the approach before the words, and started upward even before they were uttered,. If she had been in her lapine body the ears would've twitched and flicked in the direction, picking up the faintest sounds that she had learned to magnify into an identity. The foot-sounds she recognized as those of her own breed, and the subtle shift from quadruped to biped movement. Female from the voice, obviously, but also for the grace and lightness of the tread, the gently whisper of breath.

She heard no malice in the voice, nor in the beat of the heart or stride. Yet she knew those who could disguise their voice well, too well for her youth to truly sort the difference, yet. While she didn't react violently, a hand still strayed toward the limp sword, resting gently on the hilt. There was no quick tension that denoted a true master of the art, ready to fight at a needle's drop, only a graceful promise of an acolyte.

"Who's there?" she said, and the voice was strange, completely monotone and hollow like that of a clockwork doll, only a vague echo of inquiry that changed the lilt.

[ferabird]

Unless the girl threatened to come within a sword's length of her, the lapine would content herself by sliding atop the short wall that defined the pool of the fountain. Downily-furred feet slipped all but seamlessly into the waters, something of a blissful sigh escaping the stranger's maw.

"I am known as Bihagen, little Mistress." she responded, using the term of respect and deference with no detectable malice in her tone. "No need to bear your sword with me."

[silverdust]

The girl listened carefully, tilting her head toward the voice. Now at such close proximity she could read the voice well. No lies she detected, no change of heartbeat nor nervous twitch of arm. Such sincerity was rare for her, something somewhat strange, and vaguely interesting. The hand slowly retracted itself, but the fingers still remained a short grasp from it. After all, she had never learned true trust as of yet.

She turned in the water, her slender limbs cutting gently through the tranquil pool with none of the wading clumsiness that most humans possessed. She settled herself close to the voice, not sitting but leaning her palms against the fountain edge. She swirled her leg in a slow continuity, the mask fixed to the swirl of the loose ribbons as if it could actually see it. An innocent pose, if not a bit eerie.

"Seibhizion," she said after a moment, returning the courtesy of introduction. Her tone had not changed in the least. "I have not seen you here before, Miss Bihagen. What brings you?"

She was amazingly blunt in her questions, sounding somewhat simple-minded perhaps, if one did not note the lithe alertness of her limbs. She was far too concious of herself and her surroundings to suggest idiocy.

[ferabird]

One could hardly fault a child for bluntness, but seeing as this one expressed an unmistakeable wisdom beyond her years it was as likely a ploy as anything else. A faint smile graces the anthropomorphic lapine's shortish muzzle, lengthy ears still serenely folded. She went day in and day out suffering from a never-ending case of deja-vu. Be it the child's oddly emotionless tone, the poses she assumed, or even the trail of her ribbons. Each struck a different chord, even the fresh scent of the water reminding her of another point in time. It was part of being born the type that she was, not altogether an unpleasant part of it, either.

"I have not been here before, Seibhizion." she responded simply, answering the question with a quick confirmation. "And nothing brings me so much as I bring myself. I find it deplorable to stay in one spot for long, or the sameness of each day would drive nails into my sanity." Well, she answered the blunt quieries with blunt answers! This script writer had no need for silly games of manipulation. That sort of business was best reserved for a cast.

[silverdust]

"Sanity..."

The swirl of ribbons gradually stopped as the child bit her lip slightly. It was perhaps the only blatant show of emotion so far. But it only passed a moment, and the swirl continued as the child flicked a wet piece of hair over her shoulder, deftly. "I have not met many who claim sanity. It is new."

She pulled herself up, seating herself on the fountain's edge. With a fluorishing motion she shook loose the ribbons upon her arm and drew the sword close to her. She began to shine the blade with an absent skill, a bit unsettling to see a child handle a weapon so carelessly. If this caused Bihagen any uncomfort, she didn't seem to notice.

"You don't have a cast?" she asked, continuing the thread of conversation.

[ferabird]

Unwavering in her nuetrality, the woman merely observed even that faint expression of the girl's inner turmoil. Well- there was something. Everything to her worked in patterns. And always she found herself pleased to discover a being's 'pattern'.

"Yes my dear, sanity. Not all of our kin are clutched by madness. And if it is so novel a concept, you are welcome to spend as much time as you please in my presence. Though to be honest, I would much prefer you kept the blade at your hip when we talked." It wasn't fear that prompted her nearly so much as experience. A hand that clutched a weapon would always be tempted to wield it. This was one of her 'patterns'.

"And no... I claim no cast. No grand theatre. I am solitary, as it makes it far easier to observe." Observe? Oh yes. She watched. Always, she watched. It made the pair of them only moreso ironic, as whilst one saw not at all, the other all but specialized in doing so.

[silverdust]

The ribbon polishing stopped abruptly and the girl once again placed the sword by her side. She was familiar with the discomfort her weapon caused some, though she couldn't understand it. Blades, weapons, she had been familiar with them as far as she could remember. Like a child's dolls, she had had her sword.

"I cannot draw the line. There are those mad who act like they are sane, and their madness is sanity to me," she kicked the water lightly. "I shall be surrounded by madness someday."

She tipped her head to listen to the lapine's calming voice, not only that but the rhythms of her actions, be they subtle or pronounced. It was her way of observation, not by sight but by song. Each creature had a song to sing to her, made up of voice and heartbeat, motion and breath. The lapine's reminded her of a lullaby or sonata, but held a voice all its own. Much calmer, more controlled than the symphonies she usually heard.

A pause after the last words but no slip in the mask. If she were being observed, then she became more aware of herself. She tilted her head up, painted eyes fixed on the moon, eerily upon their own accord. "I suppose you had a choice then. It must be nice. He says I am destined for a cast when I come into age."

Cryptic words from a cryptic girl. It seemed all her facets were either of bluntness or mystery.

[ferabird]

Passively the mist-colored femme watches the girl, devolving finally back into the lapine form which was moreso natural to her. Should she posess envy, she might think to feel it. Some were so lucky... the marionettes who could take the form of humans and walk among them.

"Sanity and madness are hard to seperate... to be sure." she follows up to the almost despairing mention of the girl. "But, should you wish, I would certainly be willing to teach you how to watch. If you listen hard enough, and give attention to all the habits of a creature, it is not so hard to tell which hear voices or are haunted by their own evil." She had an advantage there of course, as being a recollection type she never forgot even the most subtle cues a person had exhibited before their broken minds became evident.

"And tell me of this 'he' of yours? Perhaps it will ease your mind. That- or perhaps I can help you in acquiring the ability to decide for yourself." Quite an offer that, though by tone she would seem to have every intention of following up on it.