The Book of Frozen Memory

[..s.k.i.t.t.l.e.s..]

EDIT: Posting first post in just a few moments....

[..s.k.i.t.t.l.e.s..]

It was honey. Two years had been wasted on failed attempts to recall the dominate perfume that echoed through the valley nearest Karhnham. There were no blooms that gave off such a sweet scent, but then again until now she had come to realize that her jaded life allowed her little time to appreciate how wonderful it had been; in comparison to now, that is to say. There were fields. Endless amounts of them, some reaching so far towards the horizon it seemed as though they were lovers, destined to unite but gravity denying even the most innocent of touches. Sunlight caressed almost every crevice in her once proud kingdom. The greatest bastion of faith and justice known to the mortal realm was even more magnanimous when the firs rays of the sun crept over the hill tops of the Valley and fought back the shadows like gleaming swords in every outstretched hand. The sun was a powerful edifice to the monks that prowled the stone walkways towards her father's meeting hall. The belly of it stewing new ideals and laws that would uphold the just way of life every Lesaudian was accustomed too. Perhaps that is why the sun was the chosen adornment of Lesaud's temples, banners, crowns and soldiers.

Fakanna's child form crossed the threshold of her day dream, her pale blue gown trailing behind her, that familiar, nagging smell guiding her to a small clearing no bigger than a walk in closet. There was a tree, dying, practically begging for water, anything to feel the sweet tranquil rush of life course through its tattered veins. The instant the female, with her hands shaking, afraid to find out what had been hiding behind those rustic doors all these years, she could smell it as clear as the sapphire colored sky. Though she was a great deal older than most of the friends she was allowed to meet on a daily basis, it was not a scent she was familiar with. It had been honey. The last thing she ever saw before the tragic down fall of civilization was this melancholy tree barely hanging on to a thread of its former existence. The smell of honey. A tattered tree. And now, where a once proud piece of history stood, lay the most benevolent tree ever to behold. Cobble stone shattered into pieces. Massive stone blocks that took several hundred men to move just inches, now lay in ruins, amongst a graveyard of dust and decay. But that gnarled looking tree, now blossoming with apples as big as a fist, tasting sweeter than an nectar known. Leaves as green as the stretching emerald fields that had been painted across the rich earth. Fakanna stared at the tree, her blue gown tattered and torn from hours of trekking through the chaos as it unfolded its putrid wings across Lesaud, making a mockery of civilization and humanity as the world knew it.

Glass shattered from a distant alleyway not far from where she sat which broke her concentration. Not that she needed any more time spent in a world that no longer existed. For now she was content with the way that society sort of, cleaned up the spilled milk and carried on, like the flow of a river after a pebble has briefly interrupted its coursing. Nothing seemed to phase...anybody. Fakanna sat alone in a sea of forgotten history, pondering if anyone really wanted relief from.... It was then that Fakanna allowed her eyelids to fall gracing the folds of the market around with a long, stone-hard stare. Time wasn't actually taken to really observe the sea of faces that were passing by, it was a vortex of estranged color. Had she thought about the consequences of changing the future, perhaps she would not be so obliged to do so. These people, her people, looked happier than she had ever seen them in the last few years. Life was continuing on, not as prosperous as before, but damn near enough to be slightly eerie. Fakanna felt like the betrayer, a person of whom was against the crown, the person who usually was the cause of some God forsaken war, the worst label in all of Lesaud. To deny happiness for the world made her on the same level as the Devil.

The gentle curls kissing the back of her neck pulled her from her morbidity as a gentle breeze rolled up along side the tide. The sound of waves crashing to the shore could be heard only slightly through the thundering voices of the ecstatic crowd. Such diversity. Such culture, and none of it familiar, all thanks to something that may or may not be a bad thing, leaning ever more towards something that could be a blessing. The empty shell of the book was clutched deeper to her chest feeling her lungs crushing under the weight a trait she often performed when feeling lost and alone like a child crying for its mother. It was the only thing at the moment that felt real, as if she was going to wake up from this nightmare and realize that her imagination was just as wild as the thrashing waves on a stormy night. Fakanna did not bother shutting her eyes. What was the use? Curiosity killed the cat, but wishful thinking drove the dog to suicide. Freshly cut fingers traced the edges of her makeshift table contemplating giving up, spending the next two weeks in a library and learn how to sail on her lonesome. It was more progressive than waiting for grass to grow and a decent crew. Besides, what did she know about, "proper," crew? As far as her mind was concerned, the gentleman at the helm did all of the work, but that may be her child's mind trying to comprehend something that felt like rocket science. "I am not cut out for this..." Fakanna continued to smile, however fake it felt across her face....