Post by d-boys on May 19, 2008 18:13:37 GMT -5
The day was over and she told all there was to tell. Since their tasks were finished, the scribes and servants departed the antechamber, leaving her breathless and exhausted from the arduous day's work. As the grand wooden doors at the end of the room clanked shut and the unmistakable sound of locks clicking and bolts sliding echoed resolutely from the far side of the arched doorway, the Oracle finally found peace enough to relax.
She sat facing the entrance in the center of the room, lying sprawled upon a queenly throne, fashioned from cold silver and lined with velvet, blue cushions. While the majestic chair was as comfortable as it was beautiful, its presence was a stinging reminder of the Oracle's forlorn confinement. Only rarely did she see outside her chambers and the room where her masters made her speak the words of the past, present, and future.
The room was rather large for how few people ever entered. Its floor and walls were constructed from stone bricks that remained mostly uncovered and unwelcoming, the only exception being a long stretch of blue carpet that lay across the center of the room. The carpet was of the same color as the throne and embroidered with silver at the edges, extending all the way from the large wooden doors, through the throne, and towards the back where a small arched doorway led it to a spiraled staircase.
Sighing with relief at her peace, the Oracle rose from the throne, her bare feet brushing softly against the satin carpet as they came down. She took one more longing look at her prison doors before turning towards the back of the room where she knew the stone staircase would take her to where she needed to go.
As she walked the carpet, she eyed the stained glass windows standing high on the walls to her sides, each depicting one of the six twin gods. On one wall were Vala, Éternia, and Astaria, the sister-goddesses of fortune, time, and the heavens. Across from them were their brothers, Valach, Eternum, and Istarus, each god sharing a dominion with his twin sister. The Oracle silently pleaded with the gods, as she did at the end of every session, praying for deliverance from her oppressors.
While the gods depicted in the windows were greatly valued in Maeriad society, the love these Elven peoples had for them was but a fraction of their veneration towards the figure that covered the ceiling of the room. Spread across the flat ceiling was a massive painting of the goddess Azura in the form of a young woman. In the center, the revered goddess lay suspended, submerged in bright water and enfolded in a cerulean silk dress - the very same clothing the Oracle was forced to wear. The goddess’ dark blue hair radiated around her head, shining even in the brilliant water.
The Oracle craned her neck to look at the mural, her scornful sapphire eyes linking with the similar, alluring irises of the goddess. Glaring at Azura’s colorful shrine, contempt filled the Oracle. The Maeriads loved Azura and all they did was in her favor - most definitely including the Oracle's own imprisonment and forced servitude. While she was a Maeriad herself, the Oracle had long ago forsaken her people as they had done to her. Nearly half a century they kept her prisoner - yet she continued to appear as an attractive young woman, courtesy of her Elven heritage.
Finally reaching the small archway at the end of the room, the Oracle followed the silky blue carpet up the stairs and to an open, arched wooden door. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, comforted at feeling safe and alone in her chambers.
Just as cold and uninviting as the antechamber, the Oracle's room was made to minimalist standards. Only a bed, dresser, and a single window were given to her as comforts. Lying in the far east corner of the room and stretching against the wall was the plain wooden dresser, holding the few clothes the Oracle was given to wear. However, with its back against the wall directly across from the doorway lay the bed with an elegance that defied even that of the stately throne, constructed of the same silver and covered in ornate blue sheets.
Approaching the grand bed, the Oracle did not take time to change before flinging herself across it, having just enough care remaining to roll onto her back and let out a long, depressed sigh. She stared blankly at the stone ceiling above her, her mind wandering to better times and loves now lost. While her people's memories usually endure through great periods of time, the abundance of prophecies and false memories incurred over nearly fifty years of vivid visions and lucid dreams has clouded her past. Some days she would not remember her old name, and on others even worse she would forget her love. But now, staring at the stones above her, the Oracle's past was clear in her mind.
Reminiscing over the life she once lived, the Oracle drifted almost instantly into a deep and unnatural sleep. A magical sleep caused not by fatigue, but by Nythos, so that his mother Éternia and his uncle Eternum might force open the rare connection between the Oracle and the Eternal Tapestry to reveal to her an astonishing vision.
They showed to her a peculiar thread that had wound its way unnoticed through the tapestry for millennia. But the Oracle saw that soon - very soon - it would weave itself towards the center, splashing the others with silver and blue. The Oracle saw the colorful scourge contaminating the tapestry, and no matter how far she looked she could see no end to its deadly shades.
To accompany her vision of the tapestry, she was also shown a small band of heroes. She saw their faces and immediately knew them as the saviors of the world - should they succeed in their task.
While still wishing not to interfere too greatly with mortal affairs, always afraid of what the consequences of the Abyss might be, the sibling gods continued to give a brief message to the heroes from the Oracle’s vision - knowing that the Abyss would not be angered by such things as visions and instructions. The gods showed the Oracle to the heroes and delivered a prophetic rhyme, knowing that only the truly worthy would succeed in the quest while the others would perish…
She sat facing the entrance in the center of the room, lying sprawled upon a queenly throne, fashioned from cold silver and lined with velvet, blue cushions. While the majestic chair was as comfortable as it was beautiful, its presence was a stinging reminder of the Oracle's forlorn confinement. Only rarely did she see outside her chambers and the room where her masters made her speak the words of the past, present, and future.
The room was rather large for how few people ever entered. Its floor and walls were constructed from stone bricks that remained mostly uncovered and unwelcoming, the only exception being a long stretch of blue carpet that lay across the center of the room. The carpet was of the same color as the throne and embroidered with silver at the edges, extending all the way from the large wooden doors, through the throne, and towards the back where a small arched doorway led it to a spiraled staircase.
Sighing with relief at her peace, the Oracle rose from the throne, her bare feet brushing softly against the satin carpet as they came down. She took one more longing look at her prison doors before turning towards the back of the room where she knew the stone staircase would take her to where she needed to go.
As she walked the carpet, she eyed the stained glass windows standing high on the walls to her sides, each depicting one of the six twin gods. On one wall were Vala, Éternia, and Astaria, the sister-goddesses of fortune, time, and the heavens. Across from them were their brothers, Valach, Eternum, and Istarus, each god sharing a dominion with his twin sister. The Oracle silently pleaded with the gods, as she did at the end of every session, praying for deliverance from her oppressors.
While the gods depicted in the windows were greatly valued in Maeriad society, the love these Elven peoples had for them was but a fraction of their veneration towards the figure that covered the ceiling of the room. Spread across the flat ceiling was a massive painting of the goddess Azura in the form of a young woman. In the center, the revered goddess lay suspended, submerged in bright water and enfolded in a cerulean silk dress - the very same clothing the Oracle was forced to wear. The goddess’ dark blue hair radiated around her head, shining even in the brilliant water.
The Oracle craned her neck to look at the mural, her scornful sapphire eyes linking with the similar, alluring irises of the goddess. Glaring at Azura’s colorful shrine, contempt filled the Oracle. The Maeriads loved Azura and all they did was in her favor - most definitely including the Oracle's own imprisonment and forced servitude. While she was a Maeriad herself, the Oracle had long ago forsaken her people as they had done to her. Nearly half a century they kept her prisoner - yet she continued to appear as an attractive young woman, courtesy of her Elven heritage.
Finally reaching the small archway at the end of the room, the Oracle followed the silky blue carpet up the stairs and to an open, arched wooden door. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, comforted at feeling safe and alone in her chambers.
Just as cold and uninviting as the antechamber, the Oracle's room was made to minimalist standards. Only a bed, dresser, and a single window were given to her as comforts. Lying in the far east corner of the room and stretching against the wall was the plain wooden dresser, holding the few clothes the Oracle was given to wear. However, with its back against the wall directly across from the doorway lay the bed with an elegance that defied even that of the stately throne, constructed of the same silver and covered in ornate blue sheets.
Approaching the grand bed, the Oracle did not take time to change before flinging herself across it, having just enough care remaining to roll onto her back and let out a long, depressed sigh. She stared blankly at the stone ceiling above her, her mind wandering to better times and loves now lost. While her people's memories usually endure through great periods of time, the abundance of prophecies and false memories incurred over nearly fifty years of vivid visions and lucid dreams has clouded her past. Some days she would not remember her old name, and on others even worse she would forget her love. But now, staring at the stones above her, the Oracle's past was clear in her mind.
Reminiscing over the life she once lived, the Oracle drifted almost instantly into a deep and unnatural sleep. A magical sleep caused not by fatigue, but by Nythos, so that his mother Éternia and his uncle Eternum might force open the rare connection between the Oracle and the Eternal Tapestry to reveal to her an astonishing vision.
They showed to her a peculiar thread that had wound its way unnoticed through the tapestry for millennia. But the Oracle saw that soon - very soon - it would weave itself towards the center, splashing the others with silver and blue. The Oracle saw the colorful scourge contaminating the tapestry, and no matter how far she looked she could see no end to its deadly shades.
To accompany her vision of the tapestry, she was also shown a small band of heroes. She saw their faces and immediately knew them as the saviors of the world - should they succeed in their task.
While still wishing not to interfere too greatly with mortal affairs, always afraid of what the consequences of the Abyss might be, the sibling gods continued to give a brief message to the heroes from the Oracle’s vision - knowing that the Abyss would not be angered by such things as visions and instructions. The gods showed the Oracle to the heroes and delivered a prophetic rhyme, knowing that only the truly worthy would succeed in the quest while the others would perish…