#OBSIDIAN ROSE SKIN#

“It is a power, a force of nature, which in and of its own authority can take the sting from death, and yet it can drive a stake of grief into the hearts of those who long for it and are without it. It can humble the Graces, still the Furies, and spur the Muses into motion…” The Obsidian Rose, paused to look at the gathering about him as the woodland spirits and all of nature itself gathered around the feet of the Night Breeze, then he continued. It can close the distance of a thousand miles, yet it can make an inch feel like a thousand miles. This power can turn despair into glory or steal the glimmer from gold it can make a man feel like a king or turn a throne room into a prison cell. “This power can breathe life into the dying yet at the same time it can slay without mercy in all its benevolence it can make a coward brave and turn the brave into cowards.

It can heal a soul or drive a silent, killing blade deeper it can ease one’s pains or leave an unbearable agony in those whom it leaves It can bridge gaps between entire nations or can drive them to war.” The spectators gasped as they heard the power of this mystical force.

This mystical force is often abused by those who have it and abandons those who long for it. It is often wanted but rarely truly gained by those who seek it and desire it most. “This power is lost on the rich, and sought by the poor, yet is found by the unlikely. It can achieve wonders like nothing in the heavens or upon the earth.” A rustle nearby saw a wisened old owl light in the tree nearby to hear the story unfold, and it was joined by several small animals who also wished to hear this tale. “I found in my journey, a power unlike any other. …and so, with a heart, burdened by his thoughts, he began. Even the moon and the stars which had gazed upon him since the waning of the daylight leaned in to hear what he had to say. It was if nature herself wanted to hear what this mere man had discovered. “Oh it’s no calamity, mistress,” he responded, “but something more…” He paused and took a deep breath laboring against the weight in his chest, for the air he sought, and in that moment, it seemed all the world stood still. So, tell me Obsidian Rose, what is this calamity that you have found?” “I have watched you for many seasons, oh man of the Obsidian Rose,” she replied, intrigued by the musings of this man “it must be great and terrible, indeed, to trouble one like you. “I have found that which is profound, and yet confounds me, milady of the frigid night,” he replied almost distantly. She had not the face of a crone as many might have imagined, but instead seemed eternally young and lithe, with a faerie-like appearance, with the face of a Muse, classic and beauteous. “What is it that you seek… or more importantly, what have you found?”ĭrawn from his thoughts, the Obsidian Rose turned to face the Night Breeze which had but only moments ago swept through the trees uttering the arcana of the night to the lethargic hardwoods who prepared for their long winter’s nap. “Why,” it asked, “do you sit here so… in the cold and all alone?” Upon a brief pause the voice pursued with another inquiry, one based in piqued curiosity. If he felt the cold at all, the rose did not show it, as he remained still despite the involuntary shiver that made his body tremble from head to foot even so, he dared not move.Ī voice like an Oracle of old broke the silence which seemed all but tangible despite the ambience which surrounded him.

#OBSIDIAN ROSE SKIN#

The Obsidian Rose’s skin prickled as he felt the icy tendrils of the autumn night seeking to find any way beneath his garb to caress the tender skin beneath. Somewhere a chorus of crickets and other nocturnal insects sang a soft sweet melody which echoed in the hollows of the night with a melancholy resonance, as if serenading the blissful chill that swept over the land. A gentle wind whispered as it passed through the trees which had been kissed by the icy lips of autumn, telling the forlorn secrets of that most frigid eve of eves. The stars glittered in the night sky like thousands of tiny eyes which winked at him from afar as if they wondered or perhaps even knew that which was on the rose’s mind. He was keenly aware of his surroundings as he gazed upon the scene with a solemn grace that mirrored his musings. The Obsidian Rose sat alone in the tranquil twilight, lost within his deepest thoughts.

Obsidian rose