Mnemosyne (bethink) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-02-13 17:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | mnemosyne |
Who: Mnemosyne
What: The corporeal birth of memory.
Where: Cemetery
Warning: Nothing.
OOC: Warning: I get long winded for narratives, sorry.
Narrative
There was no time where Mnemosyne happened to be, tending to her pond as she had for years now. She walked the radius of her pond, her eyes skimming the surface before delving deeper down through the mists of silver, blue, and purple. Sometimes images formed, much the way a fog-like image would form in a seers crystal ball. Something happy, something sad, something absolutly meaningless. Sometimes an image of a chair would suddenly float to the surface, then fade. These images were only meant for Mnemosyne, should another walk by they would not see what she was seeing. Omniscience was hers, and only gifted to few others, even still - they would not see what she saw in her waters. Just as she would not be able to pinpoint a specific area of someone's life through the fates thread. As she walked she let her mind wander off to the thoughts of Lethe drifting across her own river with that lost yet blissful look. The world had changed, that much was a given, but so much so that Lethe had allowed herself a taste of her own water? She made a light 'tsk' sound, instead of echoing however, a ripple formed in the center of her pond. She had been able to follow some of the thing happening in the surface realm, it was easy for her to draw up memories of others within her pool, listen and watch and find what they knew to make it her own. As she continued to walk her thoughts were interrupted by the bell-like tone of metal rolling from the lush green landscape around her pool to the hard grey rock that lay just mere feet away from the waters. The bent golden cup that Lethe had taken her drink from, Mnemosyne's lips twisted in somewhat of an unhappy look as she broke her path the retrieve the cup. She held it within her left hand and watched as it mutated by her will alone. Pooling, melting and forming until it formed the head of a sunflower with a stem that belled so that it would stand on it's own. From under one golden petal a vine seemed to grow for Mnemosyne to hold onto, the middle of the sunflower bent down just low enough to form a semi-bowl so the drinker could drink. The metal petals were low enough so that one could drink from the cup, but high enough to keep the illusion of the flower. Once satisfied with the cup she returned to her pool and continued her walk until she came to a stone alter that came up to about her chest, the cup would rest there from now on. She looked upward as if she could see through the layers and layers of earth, and finally made a decision. An hour or so after her decision had been made, Mnemosyne emerged in one of the most unlikeliest places; a graveyard. At three in the afternoon there were a few families scattered around to be with their dead. The cemetery was a shrine to remembrance, or forgetting, but mostly remembrance as far as she was concerned. After all, the people who actually came to mourn often were burdened by the memories they cherished and yet hated most. She was invisible to the mortals, appearing as any old God may appear - all bright and shiny as if preforming a show for her own sake. It dimmed, slowly, calming as her form took a mortal shape - that of a 5'5" woman with large blue eyes that looked almost blindly yet cunningly from behind a mass of tightly curled deep auburn hair that hit at her hips. She wore garments that helped her to fit in with what was taking place, a long black trench coat dress that hit around her knees, it looked thick and made of wool, held together with black crystal beads. Black leather boots came up to her knees, thin heals would make her presence known once she walked form a grave to the cement path that would lead her out of the cemetery. In her wake however, where she'd arrived, nine graves would gradually be grown over with forget-me-nots and clover. The flowers were not her own originally, but over time she'd grown to be fond of the small blue flowers and their bright centers. Clover, she'd always loved. Nine, well nine was a powerful number when it came to memory and dreams, nine had always been a good number for her. It had been a long time since she'd entered the mortal realm, it felt good to stretch again, and just as she was suddenly aware of her family - she knew they would be aware of her. Of course, just as she couldn't pin point who everyone was exactly, they would not know it was her. Just a sudden surge of power that let them know someone 'new' was around. Before going off to find the rest, it was time to make a home for herself. For the most part she went unnoticed by the mortals as she left the cemetery, one elder woman in particular looked up from her flower arrangement that she was resting against her late husband's graves site. When her eyes found the goddess her eyes filled with something close to awareness before she turned back to look to the tomb as if she'd just remembered something. "Oh, Frank." Mnemosyne heard from behind her as she walked away, "...I can't believe I'd almost forgotten how handsome you were." The woman spoke while reaching out to dust off a small broach-like ornament that had her late husbands face chiseled into it by a laser. The emblem had been grown over for about a year now, and was finally being cleaned off. There was just enough tilt to the corner of Mnemosyne's lips to say she was smirking as she finally left the cemetery. |