Post by Calisto on Jan 3, 2010 17:55:13 GMT -8
The lake was frozen over due to the intense winter cold. The not-quite full moon sent shimmers dancing across the surface. Lake Lockwood looked eerie in the winter mist, bathed in silvery, misty light. Only the fire bespoke of any sign of life. Just barely. It was difficult to keep the fire going with the small bursts of snow, but the elder was doing his best to ignore the elements and keep the fire going outside, where the wolves would see it and know. They were not playing around. This festival may be fun and full of dance, but it had a purpose.
Wooden tables were scattered around laden with food. One lone daemon played a slow, steady drum beat. Most people were off doing their own thing. In the dim lighting, Calisto could not make out very many figures at all. Not that he was truly looking. It was strange being back home. The demon spent his time wandering around, aimlessly exploring. Flashbacks of horror and death haunted his mind. He wandered if any here had heard of the massacre. It was so long ago. Calisto hoped not. At the very least, he hoped they did not know the name of the murderer.
The demon’s aqua blue eyes searched the darkness for one things only. And there it was. His old den. Calisto moved towards it as though he were in a dream, almost forgetting about the gray wolf skin cuffs he wore around his wrists and ankles in honor of the festival. Those cuffs were the only thing he wore other than pants as black as his skin. He did not normally where such adornments, but he was being festive. At the moment, being festive was the last thing on his mind. All that mattered was his past.
Calisto curled up in the rubble that used to be his bed. The drums began to grow louder, faster. He heard laughter and pictured people dancing. The night outside of his dim grew brighter and Calisto realized they had finally lit the torches. This was slowly bringing him back to the present, so that he existed in a sort of half state, an in between state. It was an interesting sensation. He remembered the year before, when elder Cedric announced the next Honored Dancer. A lady named Shiako. The name was unfamiliar. The thing that struck him hardest was the moment after, when the elder announced Lockwood as their place of celebration.
He almost didn’t come. I will not run from my past. It is part of me. It has sculpted me. And I must not forget. Calisto’s resolve strengthened and he prepared to leave. Now, there he was curled up in a nest of dirt. He rolled onto his back to look at the moon, but something struck his elbow and made him wince. His first thought told him it must have been a rock. Only it did not feel like a rock. It was far too smooth. Calisto propped himself up on one shoulder so that he could investigate.
The thing was a smooth, black handle. At least, it looked black. It felt like wood. It was probably just too dark to see the color. A tingle went through his skin as he began to dig the object free of fallen rocks and debris. Chills racked his spine in waves. Could it be…? He thought it was lost. Perhaps he was only deluding himself and it was just a normal spear. Nope. The entire shaft came free. At the tip was a head made of pure diamond. And heirloom from the daemon world.
Calisto gasped in surprise. The dim light that trickled through his den bounced off the diamond in fantastic beams of light, casting shadows on his face. There was nothing ultimately special about the weapon. It was not magical in any way, although the diamond was sharp and harder than any stone or metal. The weapon was precious, but not invaluable. To Calisto, however, it represented his entire past. The demon would never have thought it would still be here, just waiting for him. Was this destiny? Or was the old man trying to tell him something?
The demon smiled and gripped the spear in one hand. “I will conquer you,” he whispered to it. It was a resolution and a promise. This decision gave him peace enough to join the others. He walked away from his den and joined the firelight and smiling faces. He mingled lightly, saying hi to old friends and making new ones. The spear was still in his hand. There was no way it would leave him now. He had something to prove to the Other and would not risk someone else wandering into his old den and finding it. Then his promise would all be for nothing.
Wooden tables were scattered around laden with food. One lone daemon played a slow, steady drum beat. Most people were off doing their own thing. In the dim lighting, Calisto could not make out very many figures at all. Not that he was truly looking. It was strange being back home. The demon spent his time wandering around, aimlessly exploring. Flashbacks of horror and death haunted his mind. He wandered if any here had heard of the massacre. It was so long ago. Calisto hoped not. At the very least, he hoped they did not know the name of the murderer.
The demon’s aqua blue eyes searched the darkness for one things only. And there it was. His old den. Calisto moved towards it as though he were in a dream, almost forgetting about the gray wolf skin cuffs he wore around his wrists and ankles in honor of the festival. Those cuffs were the only thing he wore other than pants as black as his skin. He did not normally where such adornments, but he was being festive. At the moment, being festive was the last thing on his mind. All that mattered was his past.
Calisto curled up in the rubble that used to be his bed. The drums began to grow louder, faster. He heard laughter and pictured people dancing. The night outside of his dim grew brighter and Calisto realized they had finally lit the torches. This was slowly bringing him back to the present, so that he existed in a sort of half state, an in between state. It was an interesting sensation. He remembered the year before, when elder Cedric announced the next Honored Dancer. A lady named Shiako. The name was unfamiliar. The thing that struck him hardest was the moment after, when the elder announced Lockwood as their place of celebration.
He almost didn’t come. I will not run from my past. It is part of me. It has sculpted me. And I must not forget. Calisto’s resolve strengthened and he prepared to leave. Now, there he was curled up in a nest of dirt. He rolled onto his back to look at the moon, but something struck his elbow and made him wince. His first thought told him it must have been a rock. Only it did not feel like a rock. It was far too smooth. Calisto propped himself up on one shoulder so that he could investigate.
The thing was a smooth, black handle. At least, it looked black. It felt like wood. It was probably just too dark to see the color. A tingle went through his skin as he began to dig the object free of fallen rocks and debris. Chills racked his spine in waves. Could it be…? He thought it was lost. Perhaps he was only deluding himself and it was just a normal spear. Nope. The entire shaft came free. At the tip was a head made of pure diamond. And heirloom from the daemon world.
Calisto gasped in surprise. The dim light that trickled through his den bounced off the diamond in fantastic beams of light, casting shadows on his face. There was nothing ultimately special about the weapon. It was not magical in any way, although the diamond was sharp and harder than any stone or metal. The weapon was precious, but not invaluable. To Calisto, however, it represented his entire past. The demon would never have thought it would still be here, just waiting for him. Was this destiny? Or was the old man trying to tell him something?
The demon smiled and gripped the spear in one hand. “I will conquer you,” he whispered to it. It was a resolution and a promise. This decision gave him peace enough to join the others. He walked away from his den and joined the firelight and smiling faces. He mingled lightly, saying hi to old friends and making new ones. The spear was still in his hand. There was no way it would leave him now. He had something to prove to the Other and would not risk someone else wandering into his old den and finding it. Then his promise would all be for nothing.
