literature

Spirit Soaring

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Literature Text

(After Desdemona discussion, a fonder goodbye than anticipated even if corrected as to overly-naïve notions,) Cauren returns to the ship and takes the controls herself with nothing more than the desire to fly. No destination, no plans, no thinking- just motion. Singing along, feeling the sound of the music of time and space mingling in the spheres all around and in and beyond her, stars rushing and twinkling and spinning in their own dances as she flits the curtain of the velvet curtain of blacks and blues and boundless color they rest in like diamond, low and strong and sweet in her bones and high and melodic and Aeolian in her ears. And here, tangible, palpable Fate one can taste in the mouth with ambrosia sweetness and bloody bitter metal, it comes- the moment when she knew she'd never be the same again.

In those power chords, those endless and eternal lights and nights brighter than any planet's day, she found her place in the worlds tonight. Heart and soul, hand and bone, eye and gleaming grin, she flew through knowing it was where she had been meant to be all along somehow, what she was made for, meant for, what she'd love. Not the blood dripping from her veins in defense of another, not the broken shield and armor from protecting, certainly not the feeling of a corpse on her blades or a snapped neck in her hands... or screaming dying figures in the belly for that matter. All of that, and all the misery and feeling of inexorable failure and drudgery that had defined her first full stay with her strange liaisons and allies, had been trying to pretend to be someone and something she had not been.

She was no hero, however many times she had died to emancipate or to aid another, or however many times she struggled and suffered in life to make another's lot better off. Those were noble aims worth pursuing in their right course and measure. But she was not that woman.  

The one she was watched the nav-maps wailing and the engines struggling to keep up the pace she set and faithfully delivering like a dancing girl at a rock show, knowing this was where she belonged, and so what if it was crazy? Oh, she'd certainly pay for it, fiscally or in other ways; that didn't matter nearly so much as the screaming distance in the void and the sound of her own laughter, for once her own and wholly truthful, rising in the chamber. This dance, this song, this deadly race against element and sensibility with all the universe for bettors and partners in the skimming, rimming, brimming voyage as she planet hopped the advanced vehicle... this was hers.

As luck would have it, the high note ended not in the once-slave from the primitive ice dying in a brilliant flash of flame or crumpled metal in a gravity void, but in a graceful landing that scarcely brushed the grass. The ride stopped, she stood, she stumbled down in the unfamiliar gravity and orientation, and every step run with the notes still singing in her blood. Her toes tingled with the rays of pulsars and her eyes gleamed with the imprinted colors of an innumerable plethora of nebula as the dancer fell to mortal dirt again, having kissed and caressed the very face of god with wings that were and were not her own.
A roleplay character from elsewhere finds her destiny.     
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