"The nymph tries to swipe at him, misses and falls into the fire, which accepts her with a crackle and hiss." The story of the nymph, before, during, and after her imprisonment in stone. It was the Order who created her bitterness. ONESHOT
Dawn fell softly in the Realms, the mauve-streaked grace moving lethargically from the east to the west. The summer sounded its breathy exultance across the meadow, stirring grasses in a shimmering dance as new sunlight fell upon the stalks. Beyond the iridescent meadow lay a forest, canopied by a maze of branches and carpeted by last season's loam
In fact, it was the layer of dead leaves and brittle flower hearts that spoke of Syrinx's arrival. The crunching against her bare feet against the leaves was merely a catalyst for her swift, cautious advent and it wasn't long before she slipped from behind a wizened tree. Her angelic face bore a wide, untroubled grin and a soft melody slipped from her lips.
Trouble was not far off, although she could not know.
Her destination was in sight now, a crystalline pool that rejuvenated itself by the small waterfall tumbling into its depths. Syrinx skipped over to the water with a giggle and plopped herself beside it gleefully. She plunged her fingers into the crystalline water, head resting upon her free hand as she gazed into the pool. Her fingers played through the crystalline water like pale fishes as she relaxed.
She smiled into the water, and her reflection smirked coyly in return.
It wasn't like a Nymph to have any modesty in the least and she was no different from the other of the small colony she lived with. She stroked her golden tresses, winked her green-gold eyes at herself as her unoccupied hand touched the satiny porcelain of her cheek. Fresh roses blossomed on their corners, full and red.
"You're very beautiful." The voice made Syrinx leap to her feet with wild-animal fear. The pool was now a divider between the Woods Nymph and the dark-skinned man that stood on the other side, watching Syrinx carefully. The Nymph cocked her head to the side; great, vacant eyes blinking slowly as she tried to understand the queer language that fell from the man's tongue.
I do not understand you, said she in the flowing tongue of her people. She did not comprehend the look the man was giving her, a cunning look that betrayed longing. Being of a simple upbringing and cushioned by the young Realms, Syrinx did not realize that she was sinning, clad in only a loose skirt. Nakedness was not recognized by the Nymphs as it was with humans.
"My name is Abhinivesh," said the he-human, pointing to his darkly clothed chest. "Abhinivesh. You're named?" He pointed at himself again, then at Syrinx. She ran her tongue over her teeth and took one step backwards. A strange feeling was bubbling up inside her, one she had never felt. It was not fear, she had felt fear before when the she-priestesses had first forced them into the woods. It was not anger, for she had felt anger when her young sister had disappeared, presumably by the she-priestesses.
It was shame.
Suddenly, she wanted to cover up her bareness was her hands, her hair, her skirt. She did not understand why, she only understood that she felt queerly with the strange he-human's eyes lighting upon her flesh.
Syrinx was a simple enough Nymph and in response to her flush of unwelcome emotions, she decided it was time for her to return to her colony, which lay not too far off into the eastern woods. It was a mixed group, mostly of Nymphs with a Fairy or two, and they lived in close harmony with surrounding Satyrs and Gargoyles that would protect Syrinx if she was endangered.
The Nymph smiled weakly at Abhinivesh, gave her blessings in a small nod of her head, and turned to scamper off into the woods.
Suddenly, an arm was around her neck, another snaking to encircle her waist. Syrinx yelped in fear and thrashed frantically. The he-human was strong and held her too tightly against his body. His woolen clothes scratched against her flesh and his scent, spices and ambrosia wine, caught in her delicate nose.
"Beautiful Nymph," said the man hotly, his lips just inches from the side of her neck. "Do not tell me this is not what you want." Syrinx keened fearfully, her huge eyes puzzled and frightened. The man did not care what his captive wanted and caressed her soft hips.
There was a bright flash of light and suddenly Syrinx was cartwheeling into the ground. She scrambled to collect her skirt around her.
"Abhinivesh, explain." It was a priestess. Fury outlined every inch of her young face, slanted her dark eyes into slits.
"I was waiting for you in the Cave of Sighs, my love, but I heard a beautiful song. I had to go see what it was, it drew by enchantment. The Nymph beckoned to me and I tried to resist, but she was intent on having her way with me. I was seduced!" babbled Abhinivesh in a rush of venomous lies. Syrinx had no idea what had been said and shivered upon the forest floor in a state of mild shock.
You treacherous little whore, spat the priestess in a Nymph's tongue. The Rakshana are the lovers of our Order, not of some Realm-dwellers!
I do not know what you speak of, whimpered Syrinx pitifully. He attacked me while I sat near the pool. I could not under stand— Her head was flung to one side as the priestess slapped the Nymph's cheek harshly.
LIES! She boomed. For your lies, you will be punished. For your lies, all the wood dweller will become stone dwellers. For you lies, you will be unable to move, to seduce for naught under one thousand years.
"For your lies in marble you shall lie…"
Lights flashed violently as a whirlwind was birthed from nothingness. Syrinx stood in the center of it, suddenly surrounded by colonies of Satyrs, Nymphs, Fairies, and Gargoyles. They were all frozen, mouths wide in permanent screams.
"For a thousand years and never die!"
---Nine hundred years later---
Truth.
Truth was only the illusion that lies created. Lies were the basis of everything that humans said, every movement that they made. Finishing school was proof of lies, of the absence of nonexistent truth.
Beauty.
She didn't know what beauty was anymore, no one did. Without the shining light of the Realms upon them, all had grown old and wretched. Her eyes had turned muddy and shot with red, her hair was a man of tangled, splintered brown. Beauty had defined her before and now she no longer knew who she was. She was No One.
Freedom.
She barely believed it when the young priestess let them free from their marble prison. The joy of reaching out her arms or stroking her dry hair overwhelmed her. She watched through misty, haunted eyes as her fellow Wood Dwellers leapt around the school room, wreaking havoc on the race that had thus ensnared them. They all spoke English now, reluctantly, having picked it up over the near millennium.
Revenge.
Satyr started it and Gargoyle ended it. No One screamed her own insults as Gargoyle was threatened by the fire. The beautiful fire. Oranges and gold danced on their own accord. Fire could not be tamed by anyone, even these humans. The Wood Dwellers had seen proof when one part of the school had burnt down.
The mantel was her stage before the final act.
"You bastard! Don't tell her any more!" One misplaced step, one ready fall.
The freedom of death was never such a beautiful lie.
Revised already... eh... thanks ThreeOranges.
Didn't turn out as good as I wanted it to. If I get enough reviews, I'll rewrite it. But without reviews, why waste my time? J. You know you want to…