A Small Village in Gavony, Innistrad
Aug. 29th, 2024 03:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deathsmajestyThe prayers of ten thousand souls washed over Avacyn like a misty rain, a pleading susurrus of hope and fear. Avacyn watch over my children, Avacyn make my crop strong, Avacyn the pain make it stop, Avacyn grant him a clean death, Avacyn...
The prayers were always present, a constant insistence in the back of her mind. From the briefest moments after her awakening, the prayers were there. They were few at first. Small, tentative, searching. But over time the number of prayers grew, and they became more direct, more beseeching. Protect us, save us, help us.
Help me! A panicked prayer broke through the normal murmurs. A woman's voice, a woman in pain. Avacyn hear me! My child! My child! Please! My Avacyn! Avacyn focused on the prayer, on the woman sending it to her, and saw an image of the woman running and sobbing in the middle of a large meadow. Avacyn soared above the mountaintops and swooped down to the south toward Gavony. Though she heard thousands of prayers throughout the world, she rarely had time to address them individually.
From the beginning of Avacyn's existence had been the word PROTECT. The images of the mortals in all their shapes and sizes, their humanity defined by their frailty and their devotion. PROTECT. And over time, Avacyn's understanding of the word grew, became more nuanced. PROTECT THEM. This concept was Avacyn's essence.
With each passing year, the purpose of her existence had unfolded in crystalline beauty. She was not meant to fight every monster, to stop every evil. Such work would have been impossible. Instead she led and inspired, bolstering the faith of countless humans, that faith in turn bolstering the wards and charms humanity used as protection from the predations of evil. There were occasions when Avacyn would fight, when some intractable or powerful evil would demand her personal attention. But there were always too many fights, too many prayers, for Avacyn to respond to every one.
But occasionally a prayer would break through to Avacyn, a prayer imbued with such fervent faith or desperation that Avacyn felt a pull to help. The power of this mother's prayer, her shattering panic rising to a crescendo of need, reached Avacyn. The mother's fear for her child was pure and unalloyed, and such purity compelled direct action from Avacyn.
As she alit upon a sparse meadow outside of a dark forest, she saw a woman lying on the grassy slope outside the first ring of trees, sobbing and crying out a name. "Maeli! Maeli!" The woman stood and walked toward the forest as Avacyn landed.
"Petitioner. You have called me." Avacyn's tone was calm, reassuring, but the woman turned in a sudden terror before recognizing what she was seeing.
"Avacyn! You came! You came! My child! Please!" The woman was frantic, and it took time for her to calm herself and tell Avacyn what had occurred. Her child had run away from home, and had been seen running off into the forest. While the world was much safer since Avacyn's return, it was still not a safe world. Especially for children. The mother had been about to brave the forest herself for her child, though she risked death for both of them. Avacyn assured the mother she would try to find the child.
The protector of Innistrad flew over the dark forest until she approached its center. She channeled her power up through her spear, and its metal blade glowed bright. Brighter, brighter, until the light eclipsed the setting sun, and Avacyn channeled even more power, lighting up the whole sky above the forest. Avacyn could hear birds caw and animals skitter and even larger things thump below the forest canopy, all to get away from the bright light. Avacyn projected power into her voice.
"Maeli! It is Avacyn! Call to me!" Her voice boomed and echoed off the trees throughout the forest. Then Avacyn was silent. She listened for a child's cry, and hoped for anything but silence and what that silence might herald.
No voice reached out from the forest canopy, but a prayer did. Avacyn, please, I'm lost, and I'm sorry, and I'm wet, and I heard... Avacyn fixed the location of the child in her mind, and swooped over and down to a spot in the forest a few minutes away. It was a small child, a boy, and he was huddled in the crook of a tree.
The boy looked at her, and at her glowing spear. "Avacyn?"
"Child, come to me. You are safe now. I will get you home." Avacyn's voice was even softer now, the softest she could make it. Avacyn had always been most comfortable with children. Their innocence, their earnestness, made them easier to comprehend. The boy approached her, his hesitation overcome as Avacyn put her spear to one side and welcomed him with her other arm. He ran to her and she gathered him up in her arm and flew out of the forest.
It took only moments for her to find the mother on the outskirts of the trees and give her the child. Both mother and child sobbed as they hugged each other. Avacyn wished every moment of every day was this. Families rejoined. Fear erased. Happiness created. This is why she was. Satisfied her work was done, she began her ascent back to her mountainous retreat.
A violent shimmer wracked her body, shaking her vision.
Everything in front of her doubled. The trees, the mother and child, each blade of grass. Doubled, and then doubled again. A pounding ache ran through her head and she dropped to the ground, crumpled in pain. A field of white flashed through her eyes, followed by an image of many floating stone obelisks with intricate runes carved into their sides, moving in concert with each other...and then a normal scene resumed in front of her. Avacyn whipped her gaze around to identify the source of the attack. Few vampires had ever been powerful enough to launch such an assault. A demon lord, perhaps, or that necromancer who had coerced Thalia into shattering the Helvaut...
There was a soft buzzing in her ears. A constant low hum that neither raised nor lowered in volume. It was just...there, an off-tonal accompaniment to the prayers whispering in her head. The back of Avacyn's neck felt tight, and occasional involuntary shivers would shoot up from her neck through the rest of her head, as if in alarm to an attack. But no attack came. She shook her head in the hope it would clear the buzzing, but it remained in the back of her thoughts.
The two humans still huddled in front of her, clutching each other, seemingly immune to whatever had struck Avacyn. As Avacyn watched, the mother's tears evaporated, her soft face hardened with anger. "How could you run away like that? What were you thinking? You stupid child!" She pushed the child away from her violently. The small human's face crumpled up in fear, and he started bawling.
The seeds of men are rotten. Avacyn did not know where the thought came from. It was like a prayer, a missive sent directly to her head, though no mortal had uttered it. The seeds of men are rotten. Avacyn peered closely at the child, and where once she had seen innocence, she now saw other details. The poxed skin, the snotty nose, the scabs and crust of organic decay. The sniveling face in plaintive need of reassurance after committing wrong.
She looked back to the mother, that angry face already softening and seeking to reassure her wailing child. These mortals travel from anger to guilt and back again, and what is ever accomplished? Avacyn looked at the child, its wailing unabated. How short these mortals live. Today this was the small form of a child. Tomorrow it would be a man, dirty, uncouth, prone to anger and cruelty. The day after its flesh would be wriggling worms, worms writhing in the dust...
Avacyn stumbled away, her balance off, her mind fuzzy. She took flight, weaving back and forth into the sky with an unusual lack of grace, leaving both humans below. She sought to hear prayers, but coating every word was the buzzing. She could not make out the prayers over the constant noise. Instead she came back to the same words again and again, plunged into her brain like a spear.
The seeds of men are rotten.
Avacyn fled, seeking refuge from her own mind. It was nowhere to be found.
[Taken and slightly edited from "A Gaze Blank and Pitiless" by Ken Troop. NFI, NFB. Don't mind me, everything is fine and normal here! Avacyn first seen here.]
The prayers were always present, a constant insistence in the back of her mind. From the briefest moments after her awakening, the prayers were there. They were few at first. Small, tentative, searching. But over time the number of prayers grew, and they became more direct, more beseeching. Protect us, save us, help us.
Help me! A panicked prayer broke through the normal murmurs. A woman's voice, a woman in pain. Avacyn hear me! My child! My child! Please! My Avacyn! Avacyn focused on the prayer, on the woman sending it to her, and saw an image of the woman running and sobbing in the middle of a large meadow. Avacyn soared above the mountaintops and swooped down to the south toward Gavony. Though she heard thousands of prayers throughout the world, she rarely had time to address them individually.
From the beginning of Avacyn's existence had been the word PROTECT. The images of the mortals in all their shapes and sizes, their humanity defined by their frailty and their devotion. PROTECT. And over time, Avacyn's understanding of the word grew, became more nuanced. PROTECT THEM. This concept was Avacyn's essence.
With each passing year, the purpose of her existence had unfolded in crystalline beauty. She was not meant to fight every monster, to stop every evil. Such work would have been impossible. Instead she led and inspired, bolstering the faith of countless humans, that faith in turn bolstering the wards and charms humanity used as protection from the predations of evil. There were occasions when Avacyn would fight, when some intractable or powerful evil would demand her personal attention. But there were always too many fights, too many prayers, for Avacyn to respond to every one.
But occasionally a prayer would break through to Avacyn, a prayer imbued with such fervent faith or desperation that Avacyn felt a pull to help. The power of this mother's prayer, her shattering panic rising to a crescendo of need, reached Avacyn. The mother's fear for her child was pure and unalloyed, and such purity compelled direct action from Avacyn.
As she alit upon a sparse meadow outside of a dark forest, she saw a woman lying on the grassy slope outside the first ring of trees, sobbing and crying out a name. "Maeli! Maeli!" The woman stood and walked toward the forest as Avacyn landed.
"Petitioner. You have called me." Avacyn's tone was calm, reassuring, but the woman turned in a sudden terror before recognizing what she was seeing.
"Avacyn! You came! You came! My child! Please!" The woman was frantic, and it took time for her to calm herself and tell Avacyn what had occurred. Her child had run away from home, and had been seen running off into the forest. While the world was much safer since Avacyn's return, it was still not a safe world. Especially for children. The mother had been about to brave the forest herself for her child, though she risked death for both of them. Avacyn assured the mother she would try to find the child.
The protector of Innistrad flew over the dark forest until she approached its center. She channeled her power up through her spear, and its metal blade glowed bright. Brighter, brighter, until the light eclipsed the setting sun, and Avacyn channeled even more power, lighting up the whole sky above the forest. Avacyn could hear birds caw and animals skitter and even larger things thump below the forest canopy, all to get away from the bright light. Avacyn projected power into her voice.
"Maeli! It is Avacyn! Call to me!" Her voice boomed and echoed off the trees throughout the forest. Then Avacyn was silent. She listened for a child's cry, and hoped for anything but silence and what that silence might herald.
No voice reached out from the forest canopy, but a prayer did. Avacyn, please, I'm lost, and I'm sorry, and I'm wet, and I heard... Avacyn fixed the location of the child in her mind, and swooped over and down to a spot in the forest a few minutes away. It was a small child, a boy, and he was huddled in the crook of a tree.
The boy looked at her, and at her glowing spear. "Avacyn?"
"Child, come to me. You are safe now. I will get you home." Avacyn's voice was even softer now, the softest she could make it. Avacyn had always been most comfortable with children. Their innocence, their earnestness, made them easier to comprehend. The boy approached her, his hesitation overcome as Avacyn put her spear to one side and welcomed him with her other arm. He ran to her and she gathered him up in her arm and flew out of the forest.
It took only moments for her to find the mother on the outskirts of the trees and give her the child. Both mother and child sobbed as they hugged each other. Avacyn wished every moment of every day was this. Families rejoined. Fear erased. Happiness created. This is why she was. Satisfied her work was done, she began her ascent back to her mountainous retreat.
A violent shimmer wracked her body, shaking her vision.
Everything in front of her doubled. The trees, the mother and child, each blade of grass. Doubled, and then doubled again. A pounding ache ran through her head and she dropped to the ground, crumpled in pain. A field of white flashed through her eyes, followed by an image of many floating stone obelisks with intricate runes carved into their sides, moving in concert with each other...and then a normal scene resumed in front of her. Avacyn whipped her gaze around to identify the source of the attack. Few vampires had ever been powerful enough to launch such an assault. A demon lord, perhaps, or that necromancer who had coerced Thalia into shattering the Helvaut...
There was a soft buzzing in her ears. A constant low hum that neither raised nor lowered in volume. It was just...there, an off-tonal accompaniment to the prayers whispering in her head. The back of Avacyn's neck felt tight, and occasional involuntary shivers would shoot up from her neck through the rest of her head, as if in alarm to an attack. But no attack came. She shook her head in the hope it would clear the buzzing, but it remained in the back of her thoughts.
The two humans still huddled in front of her, clutching each other, seemingly immune to whatever had struck Avacyn. As Avacyn watched, the mother's tears evaporated, her soft face hardened with anger. "How could you run away like that? What were you thinking? You stupid child!" She pushed the child away from her violently. The small human's face crumpled up in fear, and he started bawling.
The seeds of men are rotten. Avacyn did not know where the thought came from. It was like a prayer, a missive sent directly to her head, though no mortal had uttered it. The seeds of men are rotten. Avacyn peered closely at the child, and where once she had seen innocence, she now saw other details. The poxed skin, the snotty nose, the scabs and crust of organic decay. The sniveling face in plaintive need of reassurance after committing wrong.
She looked back to the mother, that angry face already softening and seeking to reassure her wailing child. These mortals travel from anger to guilt and back again, and what is ever accomplished? Avacyn looked at the child, its wailing unabated. How short these mortals live. Today this was the small form of a child. Tomorrow it would be a man, dirty, uncouth, prone to anger and cruelty. The day after its flesh would be wriggling worms, worms writhing in the dust...
Avacyn stumbled away, her balance off, her mind fuzzy. She took flight, weaving back and forth into the sky with an unusual lack of grace, leaving both humans below. She sought to hear prayers, but coating every word was the buzzing. She could not make out the prayers over the constant noise. Instead she came back to the same words again and again, plunged into her brain like a spear.
The seeds of men are rotten.
Avacyn fled, seeking refuge from her own mind. It was nowhere to be found.
[Taken and slightly edited from "A Gaze Blank and Pitiless" by Ken Troop. NFI, NFB. Don't mind me, everything is fine and normal here! Avacyn first seen here.]
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