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[columns][center][item=broken flower pot][/center][nextcol][color=transparent]..[/color][nextcol][color=#567D34][font=garamond][size=7][size=4][b]gaia the caretaker[/b][/size][/size][/font][/color]
[size=2]written by Disillusionist
special thanks to gaymiens
[color=#9494A9]1,480 words[/color][/size][/columns]
[color=#425035]There were once no dryads in the Starfall Isles. When the Arcanist first saw these creatures in his own land, it was through the lens of the great Observatory, and he paused to wonder at how hard they were working.
The were cleaning a huge, dark rock in the middle of the Starwood Strand. As the days passed, the Arcanist found himself looking, again and again, upon this humble band of dryads. He was tickled to notice that they had fashioned the rock into a large, stumpy-looking idol.
But despite the idol’s crude shape, it was well cared-for. The dryads draped it with leafy shawls and adorned it with sparkling chains. They frequently made offerings to it, chains of flowers and fans of colorful leaves. They even made a companion for it one day: a sculpture of polished driftwood, studded with colorful stones and draped in yet more flowers.
The Arcanist’s curiosity deepened, and one night, he rose from the Observatory. He gathered the very darkness of the night about him like a cloak, and invisibly he hovered over the dryads’ camp. He bent his ear to them, and this is what he learned...[/color]
[url=https://wastrelrising.tumblr.com/post/166691504138/i-made-this-little-divider-thing-awhile-back-when][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/0c1af11fcf4732382c2c6ec9162d2d47/tumblr_oy92jgBtcB1wp664oo1_540.png[/img][/url]
[color=#425035]The dryads had long dwelled near the center of Sornieth. Many centuries ago, they had sided with the Gladekeeper in her war against the Plaguebringer...but soon they had deserted her.
Now the dryads’ original home was gone, turned into the Scarred Wasteland, and their trees had perished. They could live longer than that — they had great magic of their own — but their days were numbered, and they knew it.
They had fled to the closest border, that of the Starfall Isles, and there they had stayed, wandering in search of a new home. Now they were too weak to go farther, and in desperation, they carved an idol that they thought resembled the Gladekeeper. They prayed to it, hoping that she would hear their cries and restore their trees, even in this strange, far-away land. But the Gladekeeper was many miles across the sea, and she did not hear them.
And so here they were, on the shores of an alien land, praying to a distant god while another god watched, unseen, from the stars.
Many gods would have been deeply offended by this. The Arcanist was, too, at first, but his irritation didn’t last long. He heard the anguish in the dryads’ prayers; he saw how their beautiful skin had cracked, how the flowers in their hair had wilted. The Arcanist took pity on them, and he breathed a spell of [i]life[/i] into the air.
The spell pulsed deep in the dryads’ stone idol. Its grayness brightened into rich, vivid green. The wilted shawls and boughs tangled around her wings burst into verdance once more. The idol lifted her craggy head, and her glimmering pendants jangled in the breeze.
Her newly-opened eyes were a deep and vibrant green. The dryads crowded around her in excitement. But they were still puzzled, for she was not the Gladekeeper.
And that, finally, was when the Arcanist revealed himself. He drew the cloak of starlight back from his brow, and he smiled kindly upon the dryads.
“Welcome, all, to the Starfall Isles,” he declared. “I am the Arcanist, and I am the god of this land.
“For many moons I have been watching you. I see you are in need of a protector, and so I have awakened this spirit to aid you. Her name is [i]Gaia[/i], and she will be your guide.”
The dryads stretched their hands towards the Arcanist. They asked if he would intercede for them with the Gladekeeper. But the Nature Flight was not his purview, and so he could only fold his wings around them and bless them. These strange creatures who had fled from destruction in search of a new home...Something in their story tugged at him. He understood more than they could ever know.
To Gaia, he said, “Take care of these dryads, daughter. For they are your clan now — just as you are my child.”[/color]
[url=https://wastrelrising.tumblr.com/post/166691504138/i-made-this-little-divider-thing-awhile-back-when][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/0c1af11fcf4732382c2c6ec9162d2d47/tumblr_oy92jgBtcB1wp664oo1_540.png[/img][/url]
[color=#425035]Gaia was the first dragon to lead a clan of dryads. She had been imbued with the Arcanist’s warmth and compassion, and she was a capable defender, using her own great magic to shield the clan from harm. She could change the very shape of the land, rouse the trees themselves to battle — but more often than not, she was motherly and kind. [i]Mother Gaia,[/i] the dryads called her. It wasn’t uncommon for them to relax among the boughs sprouting from her shoulders. The whispered stories of the lands they had passed through, places of great beauty...and terrible danger.
Gaia frequently used her magic to heal her dryads. She sealed the cracks in their skin, and the flowers in their leafy hair soon burst to life again. Indeed, she could bring life to many things: The sculpture the dryads had offered to her, long ago, became her familiar. She called it the [i]Kirin[/i], and it was very like a stag in shape, crowned with spreading antlers. The dryads frequently knew Mother Gaia was on her way because she would be preceded by the Kirin.
At each of its steps, flowers sprang from the ground. It hummed a song of its own, a deep, soothing melody that called to the dryads in the trees. Soon Gaia would be along, calm and unhurried, following the carpet of flowers that her familiar had drawn for her.
When she came to the dryads, it was because, more often than not, they needed her healing powers. These visits were infrequent at first, but soon she was visiting each one more and more often. Their time was drawing near.
By then, many years had passed. The dryads had become as dear to Gaia as the Arcanist’s own children were to him. Yes, if there was anybody who would understand, it would be him....
One day, she left the dryads and began her slow trek up to the Observatory. The Kirin, picking its way ahead of her, was silent and solemn this time.
They reached the mountain peak, and the doors opened for them.
The Arcanist welcomed Gaia. He praised her for a job well done, and listened as she reiterated the dryads’ plight, begging him to save them from their deaths. It broke his heart to deny his daughter this one request, for the dryads’ original trees had rotted away long ago, beneath the Scarred Wasteland.
Gaia persisted, “Will you not speak to the Gladekeeper, then?” But the Arcanist could make no promises, for the Gladekeeper’s heart can be as hard as it is warm, and the dryads’ treason had been a great sin. Nature recovers quickly. But that does not mean Nature quickly forgets.
“All we can do now is provide them a home. Even with their trees, they would pass away eventually. It is the way of the universe, daughter.” He sighed, and briefly his great eyes dimmed. “All things must perish, in time.”
Gaia knew there was nothing more she could do. She thanked her father, and she and her familiar began the somber trek back to the grove.[/color]
[url=https://wastrelrising.tumblr.com/post/166691504138/i-made-this-little-divider-thing-awhile-back-when][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/0c1af11fcf4732382c2c6ec9162d2d47/tumblr_oy92jgBtcB1wp664oo1_540.png[/img][/url]
[color=#425035]At last there came a day when Gaia woke up and saw the dryads scattered around her like fallen snow. Their skin had already begun crumbling to dust, and their leaves were being picked away, one by one, by the breeze.
She stood silently over their bodies for a long time. Her Kirin spoke for them both; it lifted its head and bayed a deep and mournful melody while Gaia summoned her magic again.
She drew the earth over her children like a blanket. She tucked them in for that final sleep, and she hoped that, somewhere in the weavings of the world, their spirits would find their trees again.
Statues do not cry, and neither did Gaia, but something deep within her broke that day. When the Arcanist came to see her later on, she was gone.
She wandered through the Starfall Isles, as her children had before her. Her polished hide soon became mottled and grimy, her jewels tarnished and dull. Her Kirin still preceded her, but flowers no longer sprang from its hooves; as it decayed, it left a trail of fungi instead. Even its name had been corrupted — the dragons who glimpsed it called it [i]Qiriq[/i] now. Gaia followed in its wake, trampling the mushrooms into gleaming yellow paste. She was decaying too, slowly but surely, the grief eating her from deep within.
Maybe there would be a place for them too, a place where they would truly be at peace, at [i]home[/i], before they died. One day, Gaia remembered her father. She looked up at the star-strewn sky.
Maybe she’d been looking for the wrong place all along. Maybe now that she’d completed her duty, her place was [i]up there[/i].[/color]
[right][font=Copperplate Gothic Light][color=#567D34][size=5][b]~ The End[/b][/color][/size][/font][/right]
[size=2][color=#9494A9][b]Note:[/b] This story was an [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/qnc/2754921/4#post_40733824]entry[/url] and winner in [url=http://www1.flightrising.com/forums/qnc/2754921]The Arcanist's Lorebook[/url] for writing prompt #3, "Gaia the Caretaker". Special thanks to [i]gaymiens[/i] for running the event and providing the lore prompt and character![/color][/size]
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gaia the caretaker
written by Disillusionist
special thanks to gaymiens
1,480 words
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There were once no dryads in the Starfall Isles. When the Arcanist first saw these creatures in his own land, it was through the lens of the great Observatory, and he paused to wonder at how hard they were working.
The were cleaning a huge, dark rock in the middle of the Starwood Strand. As the days passed, the Arcanist found himself looking, again and again, upon this humble band of dryads. He was tickled to notice that they had fashioned the rock into a large, stumpy-looking idol.
But despite the idol’s crude shape, it was well cared-for. The dryads draped it with leafy shawls and adorned it with sparkling chains. They frequently made offerings to it, chains of flowers and fans of colorful leaves. They even made a companion for it one day: a sculpture of polished driftwood, studded with colorful stones and draped in yet more flowers.
The Arcanist’s curiosity deepened, and one night, he rose from the Observatory. He gathered the very darkness of the night about him like a cloak, and invisibly he hovered over the dryads’ camp. He bent his ear to them, and this is what he learned...
The dryads had long dwelled near the center of Sornieth. Many centuries ago, they had sided with the Gladekeeper in her war against the Plaguebringer...but soon they had deserted her.
Now the dryads’ original home was gone, turned into the Scarred Wasteland, and their trees had perished. They could live longer than that — they had great magic of their own — but their days were numbered, and they knew it.
They had fled to the closest border, that of the Starfall Isles, and there they had stayed, wandering in search of a new home. Now they were too weak to go farther, and in desperation, they carved an idol that they thought resembled the Gladekeeper. They prayed to it, hoping that she would hear their cries and restore their trees, even in this strange, far-away land. But the Gladekeeper was many miles across the sea, and she did not hear them.
And so here they were, on the shores of an alien land, praying to a distant god while another god watched, unseen, from the stars.
Many gods would have been deeply offended by this. The Arcanist was, too, at first, but his irritation didn’t last long. He heard the anguish in the dryads’ prayers; he saw how their beautiful skin had cracked, how the flowers in their hair had wilted. The Arcanist took pity on them, and he breathed a spell of life into the air.
The spell pulsed deep in the dryads’ stone idol. Its grayness brightened into rich, vivid green. The wilted shawls and boughs tangled around her wings burst into verdance once more. The idol lifted her craggy head, and her glimmering pendants jangled in the breeze.
Her newly-opened eyes were a deep and vibrant green. The dryads crowded around her in excitement. But they were still puzzled, for she was not the Gladekeeper.
And that, finally, was when the Arcanist revealed himself. He drew the cloak of starlight back from his brow, and he smiled kindly upon the dryads.
“Welcome, all, to the Starfall Isles,” he declared. “I am the Arcanist, and I am the god of this land.
“For many moons I have been watching you. I see you are in need of a protector, and so I have awakened this spirit to aid you. Her name is Gaia, and she will be your guide.”
The dryads stretched their hands towards the Arcanist. They asked if he would intercede for them with the Gladekeeper. But the Nature Flight was not his purview, and so he could only fold his wings around them and bless them. These strange creatures who had fled from destruction in search of a new home...Something in their story tugged at him. He understood more than they could ever know.
To Gaia, he said, “Take care of these dryads, daughter. For they are your clan now — just as you are my child.”
Gaia was the first dragon to lead a clan of dryads. She had been imbued with the Arcanist’s warmth and compassion, and she was a capable defender, using her own great magic to shield the clan from harm. She could change the very shape of the land, rouse the trees themselves to battle — but more often than not, she was motherly and kind. Mother Gaia, the dryads called her. It wasn’t uncommon for them to relax among the boughs sprouting from her shoulders. The whispered stories of the lands they had passed through, places of great beauty...and terrible danger.
Gaia frequently used her magic to heal her dryads. She sealed the cracks in their skin, and the flowers in their leafy hair soon burst to life again. Indeed, she could bring life to many things: The sculpture the dryads had offered to her, long ago, became her familiar. She called it the Kirin, and it was very like a stag in shape, crowned with spreading antlers. The dryads frequently knew Mother Gaia was on her way because she would be preceded by the Kirin.
At each of its steps, flowers sprang from the ground. It hummed a song of its own, a deep, soothing melody that called to the dryads in the trees. Soon Gaia would be along, calm and unhurried, following the carpet of flowers that her familiar had drawn for her.
When she came to the dryads, it was because, more often than not, they needed her healing powers. These visits were infrequent at first, but soon she was visiting each one more and more often. Their time was drawing near.
By then, many years had passed. The dryads had become as dear to Gaia as the Arcanist’s own children were to him. Yes, if there was anybody who would understand, it would be him....
One day, she left the dryads and began her slow trek up to the Observatory. The Kirin, picking its way ahead of her, was silent and solemn this time.
They reached the mountain peak, and the doors opened for them.
The Arcanist welcomed Gaia. He praised her for a job well done, and listened as she reiterated the dryads’ plight, begging him to save them from their deaths. It broke his heart to deny his daughter this one request, for the dryads’ original trees had rotted away long ago, beneath the Scarred Wasteland.
Gaia persisted, “Will you not speak to the Gladekeeper, then?” But the Arcanist could make no promises, for the Gladekeeper’s heart can be as hard as it is warm, and the dryads’ treason had been a great sin. Nature recovers quickly. But that does not mean Nature quickly forgets.
“All we can do now is provide them a home. Even with their trees, they would pass away eventually. It is the way of the universe, daughter.” He sighed, and briefly his great eyes dimmed. “All things must perish, in time.”
Gaia knew there was nothing more she could do. She thanked her father, and she and her familiar began the somber trek back to the grove.
At last there came a day when Gaia woke up and saw the dryads scattered around her like fallen snow. Their skin had already begun crumbling to dust, and their leaves were being picked away, one by one, by the breeze.
She stood silently over their bodies for a long time. Her Kirin spoke for them both; it lifted its head and bayed a deep and mournful melody while Gaia summoned her magic again.
She drew the earth over her children like a blanket. She tucked them in for that final sleep, and she hoped that, somewhere in the weavings of the world, their spirits would find their trees again.
Statues do not cry, and neither did Gaia, but something deep within her broke that day. When the Arcanist came to see her later on, she was gone.
She wandered through the Starfall Isles, as her children had before her. Her polished hide soon became mottled and grimy, her jewels tarnished and dull. Her Kirin still preceded her, but flowers no longer sprang from its hooves; as it decayed, it left a trail of fungi instead. Even its name had been corrupted — the dragons who glimpsed it called it Qiriq now. Gaia followed in its wake, trampling the mushrooms into gleaming yellow paste. She was decaying too, slowly but surely, the grief eating her from deep within.
Maybe there would be a place for them too, a place where they would truly be at peace, at home, before they died. One day, Gaia remembered her father. She looked up at the star-strewn sky.
Maybe she’d been looking for the wrong place all along. Maybe now that she’d completed her duty, her place was up there.
~ The End
Note: This story was an entry and winner in The Arcanist's Lorebook for writing prompt #3, "Gaia the Caretaker". Special thanks to gaymiens for running the event and providing the lore prompt and character!
@
Disillusionist
OH MY GOODNESS, ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL STORY!!!! YOU ARE SO GOOD A FAIRY TALES IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!! AND THE TWIST AT THE END WITH THE QIRIQ AND EvERYTHING AAAAAAAA IT'S SO GOOD!!!!!!
@
Disillusionist
OH MY GOODNESS, ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL STORY!!!! YOU ARE SO GOOD A FAIRY TALES IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY!!! AND THE TWIST AT THE END WITH THE QIRIQ AND EvERYTHING AAAAAAAA IT'S SO GOOD!!!!!!
@Petall XDD Thank you so much! I have to say I'm really enjoying the fairy tale style. It's not too long and still manages to make for some pretty evocative imagery. I think this one was pretty sad, though tbh I'm not sure what'll happen with Gaia now.
That aside, thank you again for reading! I'm always happy to see your comments on my thread. (And speaking of threads, I'll be hopping over to your Pinkerlocke in a while to read your update too! [emoji=heart size=1])
@
Petall XDD Thank you so much! I have to say I'm really enjoying the fairy tale style. It's not too long and still manages to make for some pretty evocative imagery. I think this one was pretty sad, though tbh I'm not sure what'll happen with Gaia now.
That aside, thank you again for reading! I'm always happy to see your comments on my thread. (And speaking of threads, I'll be hopping over to your Pinkerlocke in a while to read your update too!
)
@
Disillusionist
Of my goodness, this whole story gives me shivers! You are so good at writing fairy tales and oh my goodness I am living for it! The city was such a cool, chilling concept! And the moment the brothers realized they couldn't escape- Oh my goodness I just love all of it.
Also, I found it really cool how you didn't give the brothers canon appearances. I realized halfway through that I had been imagining them as spirals, but that might not be necessarily what they were. But then it turned out really well considering this has happened to numerous dragons. The brothers could be any breed, because time and time again dragons have been pulled into the city. Their story is not unique. That was a really nice touch!
@
Disillusionist
Of my goodness, this whole story gives me shivers! You are so good at writing fairy tales and oh my goodness I am living for it! The city was such a cool, chilling concept! And the moment the brothers realized they couldn't escape- Oh my goodness I just love all of it.
Also, I found it really cool how you didn't give the brothers canon appearances. I realized halfway through that I had been imagining them as spirals, but that might not be necessarily what they were. But then it turned out really well considering this has happened to numerous dragons. The brothers could be any breed, because time and time again dragons have been pulled into the city. Their story is not unique. That was a really nice touch!
@Petall Thanks for reading my lore again! I originally wanted to write this as a ritual-type creepypasta, but it just wasn't working. The fairy-tale style was a much better fit.
--Especially since yes, their appearances were kept vague on purpose, and for the exact same reason you noticed. Well done! [emoji=guardian laughing] I've noticed that in fairy tales and legends, the protagonists' appearances are never really described -- they could be anyone, and yup, in this case, what happened to the brothers really did happen to so many other dragons.
The brothers' story isn't quite over, and I in fact have some dragons who are closely connected to them, but that's a story for another day. I'm glad you have as much fun with my lore as I do reading yours! ^^
[spoiler]There is a fourth brother. [size=1]He hatched today.[/size][/spoiler] [emoji=guardian winking]
@
Petall Thanks for reading my lore again! I originally wanted to write this as a ritual-type creepypasta, but it just wasn't working. The fairy-tale style was a much better fit.
--Especially since yes, their appearances were kept vague on purpose, and for the exact same reason you noticed. Well done!
I've noticed that in fairy tales and legends, the protagonists' appearances are never really described -- they could be anyone, and yup, in this case, what happened to the brothers really did happen to so many other dragons.
The brothers' story isn't quite over, and I in fact have some dragons who are closely connected to them, but that's a story for another day. I'm glad you have as much fun with my lore as I do reading yours! ^^
There is a fourth brother. He hatched today. 
