ORIGIN - Clouds dance and form dreams

The little lady was lonely.
Her brother was off with one of his many friends and she just couldn't seem to find him anywhere. She hadn't seen Sir Khori since they last played together, and she missed his truthful and exuberant charm. She hadn't seen their father in quite a while now - and she wasn't sure if she was ready to try and cheer him up again. He always seemed so sad. Mother just avoided them whenever something strange flashed across her face that Wist could see, so she didn't give her absence much thought. Mother was strange, after all, someone that Father feared.

So she was standing at the water's edge, feeling lonely and a little tired at heart. This won't do. she thought to herself, pushing herself to be bolder. I can't allow myself to fall into a melancholy, for if I do, I could hardly be the hero in case something happened. If I was in a melancholy, why, someone would have to save me, now wouldn't they?

She brought a smile to her face as she peered over the waters. I can save myself. She brought the brave feeling in her heart to her skin, and she started to glow with a shimmering, golden light that played across her cream fur.

It made a lovely effect over the water, like there was something shining under the ripples, and she smiled wider and looked closer at the water. Why, it rather looked like there was something to find!

She tilted her head and an image formed for her, a friend she made under her eyelashes that only she could see. From the lights dancing across the waters, she made someone.

"Little star," She said softly to the water, "My brother placed you here in the lake, but you don't want to remain there, do you? you want to come up and play, don't you? Would you be my friend, star? That is, if you don't mind."

She stood back just a little bit, biting her lip. Would the star answer her call, or stay in the safe pool? Anyone could tell the star that it was safer down there, where nothing but silver fishes could touch you. Anything could happen up here in the air. You could even meet a dragon, she thought with a breathless smile.

Answering her happy heart, the remaining glitter sparked over the water like little fairy lights jumping to connect together. It was gradual, but the sparks formed threads, and the threads formed cloth, and the cloth created a form that pulled itself from the water, slowly, tentatively, showing and a soft little creature with two pointy ears and floating, glittering eyelashes made of pure light, and they peeked their little head from the waves made from the waterfall and gazed right at Wisteria.

Of course, Wist had no first clue as to what form a star would like to take, so she rather thought the star would have a form like herself and her brother. It was her brother who had brought the star to life, after all, so it made perfect sense that the star would take after him a little. In that thought, she could even see two little nubs for growing antlers atop the star's little head, even if the details weren't as distinct. There was room for interpretation, which was just as Wist liked it.

Wist giggled in enraptured mirth, watching as the star pulled themselves from the waters and onto the shore, and then proceeded to shake themselves off, as if they were soaked and cold. Wist laughed and turned her head to avoid what could've easily been a light spray of water, and said, "What's your name, little star? What can I call you by?"

Everything was broken. Her head, her temple, her place of marble and glory and beauty, the place she had made with its golden mosaic up above where all her stories were inspired from - the place inside her head that was her, it was all broken. A sledgehammer was taken to the pillars and the stone floor and the garden outside was burnt to the ground. The windchimes had been ripped from their strings and smashed, trampled so they would never produce music again, and the slithering, hissing dark invaded ever crack and crevice like a snake in a new home, like a rat in a hole made for it, and Clover's heart was broken and only held together by shadows in the splinters. Belladonna was the only reason Clover could even walk, because if it was up to her, she would be dead, dead, long dead.

Clover was haunted, a shade of her former self, and her light was dead. Shadows dogged her steps, waiting for her to trip, snickering at her, telling her that it was inevitable, but at the same time, strengthening her and allowing her to walk at all. She was a puppet with no drive, but for some reason, in control. Was this just one of Belladonna's tricks? Was she just letting her take control to play with her, to shatter her even further than what had already been done?

Clover would've said she couldn't be hurt more than she already was, but with Belladonna, there was always something more that could be taken from you.

A voice near the waterfall piqued her ears and she turned, pulled to it with a deep, instinctual drive. It was her daughter's sweet melodic voice she was hearing, and at once both love and dread filled her broken heart, and it almost hurt to feel such things at once. Clover hid as silently as she could, listening, such pain in her chest that disallowed her to speak.

Her daughter was just like her, just as soft and innocent and dreamy and hearing this was hurting her so much. She wanted to go and play with her daughter and make her happy, she wanted to so badly that it filled her like a disease, making her sick in her stomach, but how could she? She was a monster, and she couldn't bear to see her daughter hesitate when she saw her again, deciding how to act before smiling genially like she was some stranger to accommodate.

She just wanted to play with her daughter, she just wanted to make her child happy, why was life so unfair? A festering rage boiled in her throat and slid like acid into her mouth as she ground her teeth and shut her eyes so tight, and she shivered and leaned against the stone, doing anything to keep from howling and screaming at the injustice of it all.

This is all your fault, said Belladonna sweetly. You were the one who created me with that monster Hasira, and this is all your doing.

Clover swallowed the bitter pill down, shivering, gasping silently, tears sliding down her face.

Her daughter was asking her new friend what their name was.

She...could do that at least...couldn't she? Couldn't she? She could at least be allowed to do that from afar, unseen, and create a little magic for her child....even if her beautiful Wisteria couldn't see who or what was causing it.

"Clover Speech" "Bartos Speech"

Wist smiled and waited patiently for the star to reply to her, knowing in her heart that her new friend would speak, and though it took a short second, sounds came from their throat, a voice so dreamy and lyrical it sounded like a beautiful song made from the wind itself! It touched her heart in its beauty, every word formed with such articulation and care and love.

"My name is Epsilon, my dear lady," Her friend said, bowing their head genteelly, offering a leg to her. Wist laughed and bowed in return. "And if it would please you, it would doubtless please me to no end to be considered your friend. The life under the waters is peaceful, I shall admit, but I am considerably curious about life among the children of the air."

"If it's our way of life that has your curiosity," She replied with as much dignity as her new friend was showing, "Then consider me your guide, my dear friend Epsilon. You may call me Wisteria."

"Wisteria," Epsilon said gently, so full of love that it made her grin bashfully. It was said so tenderly, and if she imagined a trace of painful longing, she paused to consider it, growing even more shy. "What a beautiful name."

"Thank you, Epsilon," She replied, nodding her head. "I think your name is much more wonderful, if I may say so myself."

She looked her friend over and pursed her lips, coming closer to them. "Your form is rather hazy, Epsilon. You could be anything, and I could call you a generous number of beast and it would fit you - tell me, what kind of form do you have? Or, to be fair, what kind of form do you want? As a being made of light, it would be no trouble at all to change as you please."

Epsilon looked at her with a surprised motion - the expression she might've garnered from such a response was unreadable, as their face was a general wispy oval of light - and she saw an ear flicker, which made her smile. "What...form? I don't suppose I've given it much thought. What form should a star take?"

"Well," She began, musing. "The story father told us when me and my brother were born was such that the star was turned into a swan." Her eyes grew dreamy, smiling in a far off way, remembering the tale. "She was beautiful and lovely and so lonely, but because she was changed from her original form, she could be with the one she loved. And being a swan fit her very very well, for one so dignified and free."

She sighed happily. "So I suppose the form you would want to take would depend on who you are, Epsilon. If you are brave, or strong, or happy and fanciful, your form should reflect that."

Epsilon was quiet, and in the silence she could hear a soft melancholy, which made Wist pout her lips. "or...your form could reflect what you want. What you wish you could do."

Silence.

"I wish...." Came Epsilons hoarse, bitter whisper. "I could be strong. Tear out the weakness, the poison, in me and toss it out."

Wisteria's brows raised, and she inhaled a breath through her teeth. She had no idea her new friend was so...sad at heart. But that was okay! She could cheer them up. "Then...maybe something that inspires bravery! Epsilon, you mustn't give up hope," She said with a smile. "If indeed you have said weakness in you, or that someone has poisoned you, you mustn't underestimate the fact that you've survived this long with it in you! That, alone, takes a strength. And, as far as I've seen, you are polite and courteous and very considerate, which is another strength! To be considerate when you yourself are suffering takes a lot of courage, Epsilon, to think of others before yourself."

She grinned. "So don't think yourself weak! Instead, take courage in yourself!"

They were staring at her in stark, shocked silence.....then their head lowered, and a sob broke out, not from them, but from another place, and Wist blinked in startled confusion and hurried over to her friend. "Don't cry!" She said, "Don't cry, Epsilon, it'll be okay, truly, honestly, it'll be okay! "

Her daughter wasn't just like her, she was better than her, she was all of Clover's innocent dreaminess and all of Bartos' poetic optimism with none of the crippling self-doubt that she remembered so vividly as a child. Wisteria was better and more wonderful than Clover could ever have asked for, and her child was the one who was comforting her, protecting her, when it should be the other way around.

Clover wanted to be brave so badly, her throat clogged with tears, her eye blinded and red rimmed. Using Epsilon's voice, she said to her daughter softly, gently, with a voice choked with sadness, "You are so kind and wise, Wisteria. You're right. I need to be brave."

Wisteria laughed, and Clover could just imagine the beautiful smile on her face. "You already are! Haven't you climbed out of the safety of your home just to see me?"

Clover scrunched her eyes tight, her heart clenched tight. This was painful. "If it's for you, my friend, then I can be as brave as I need to be."

"Clover Speech" "Bartos Speech"

Wisteria stood back a little, her mouth open just a tad, as brilliant leaps of light sparked from the fireflies that surrounded Epsilon - like a constellation connecting the stars - and the fireflies started to fly like comets, the sparks slowly surrounding them till they were obscured from view and she had to shy her eyes away from the bright light.

And when it died down and she finally looked, her mouth fell all the way open, and she sucked in a breath.

He stood there, shy and hesitant, his brilliant blue eyes looking back at her, asking her a silent question; How do I look?

And she looked.

He was a young griffin, standing one one taloned claw in the air, as if he was pausing to put it down. All of him was a wonderful, perfect white, as if he descended from a cloud with the sun tipping its edges with a golden kiss lining the edges of his feathers. Even his lion's body was a pure white, holy and clean, all the way down to his long and elegant tail. He was young but promised bravery and strength if he pursued it. Silently the possibility hung over his form - that of a cowardly, hunched hunter that was scared of its own shadow, thin limbs betraying the power that his arms and legs already held. He could be so strong - if only he would let himself.

"Perfect," She breathed, her heart in her eyes. And he smiled back to her looking at his feet.

She settled down on the ground comfortably after a short period of silence, and she motioned for him to do the same, asking him to tell her what it was like under the waters, and he sighed kindly, settling himself, and wove a beautiful and enchanting image for her to get lost in.

And she did get lost; for hours she listened to him, asking the occasional question, and he laughed and asked her questions in return, feeling as comfortable as possible. Their friendship bloomed, and she was having the time of her life with her new friend.

While she was listening thoughtfully, her eyes half-lidded as she half-dreamed what he was describing, and her eye flickered with blue light upon her cheek without her notice at all. Lights danced upon the ground between then delicately, like light filtering from a stained glass window, beginning to create a drawing in pale colors - but her focus was like a soap bubble when she was dreaming, and it popped, the colors going all wrong and wobbly.

Wist pursed her lips, frowning slightly, staring down at the ground, and then without her really thinking about it, the ugly colors were whisked away and replaced with swirling, complicated, and sophisticated colors, like an older artist came to clean up a spilled mess. She watched with fascination as the light matched exactly with what Epsilon was speaking, a dream come to life before her to watch.

A question burst from her lips before she could think it: "Epsilon...are you doing this for me?"

He merely smiled mysteriously for her. "Perhaps." He said. "Perhaps it's you doing this, merely because you wish it. Magic works in mysterious ways, after all.