So, I've kept it a secret for a long time now, and I don't see a point in not writing this. From what anyone can see on Munaa and Vekja's pages, something befell these surrogate siblings. Munaa has amnesia and Vekja's in a coma, though, so it's hard to express to the reader just what happened without writing a short story about it. So, I did! I hope you enjoy. :)
The life of an orphan is sad and harsh, no matter where such dragons live or how they became them. Even for such souls, however, happiness can bloom, and family can be found. So it was for certain Coatls who lived in the wintry lands of the Southern Icefield. They found one another, abandoned or left alone after their parents' deaths. One way or another, they were all alone for a time, before finding one another and forming a family. Few were related by blood, but all of them saw each other as siblings. Some sought help from other dragons, and some were even adopted into such clans. Others learned to survive with only one another to rely on. This story focuses on two of them: a brother and sister. Munaa and Vekja.
They were each other's favorite siblings, and the cheery, younger Vekja would always pull her brother along on her adventures, and seek his help when she had a problem. Munaa likewise loved his sister's reliance on him, and always did his best to provide her with what she needed. Munaa knew a little bit of the world, and taught his sister what he knew. Sometimes, he would make things up because he didn't actually know the answer to a question she had. Vekja thought her brother was the smartest boy in the world, and Vekja was Munaa's light.
One of the things that Munaa knew was that the Icewarden ruled over the Southern Icefield, and had power beyond imagining. He and his sister loved to dance together, and when his little sister asked about the Icewarden's powers, he guessed as well as he could about the amazing things he could do. They formed a habit of dancing to ask the Icewarden for things, and to thank him when those wishes came true. Vekja loved Juneflowers, and so when they found some after asking the Icewarden for some, they danced in gratitude. This is Vekja's most cherished memory.
Life was good to the little orphans despite their unfortunate circumstances. Life was also cold, and being of slender build and slight constitution didn't help the two keep warm. Being ice-elemented dragons did, of course. And so, they survived in the cold.
One day, now young adults, while traveling the icefield, a whirling, monstrous blizzard swept through the area. The siblings were trapped, and couldn't find a way out. Both of them were cold and huddled together as they stumbled about, trying to find shelter. Then, Vekja collapsed, pulling Munaa -- whose arms were wrapped around her -- down into the snow with her.
"Vekja!" Munaa gasped in alarm.
Vekja's voice was weak and trembling. He could barely hear her over the howling wind. "Mu... I... S-so cold..."
"I won't leave you, Vekja. Come on! We have to find shelter!" Munaa tried to pull his sister up, but she didn't have the strength to stand and he, himself, was too weak to lift her.
"I...c-can't..."
It was all she could manage, fading into unconsciousness. Munaa was terrified. He couldn't imagine his life without his sister. He couldn't lose her. Looking around in desperation, he could barely make out a figure standing nearby, clad in all white.
"Please!" Munaa called to the stranger, "Please, help us!"
For a moment, the figure remained still. Then, the dragon came closer to the siblings. As he drew closer, Munaa was able to make out the whispy figure more clearly. It was a Mirror, from the looks of him, but he had an otherworldly quality about him, and his white robes seemed to almost be a part of the blizzard itself, tattered and billowing.
Munaa gasped, remembering a legend he'd heard about a specter which resode in blizzards. He had many names, depending on the local variations, but the legend never changed: he was a wintry grim reaper who escorted into the afterlife the souls who died in blizzards. Munaa wrapped himself protectively around Vekja.
"What do you want?" Munaa asked, fear in his eyes and his strength having fled his voice.
The figure stood silently.
"I know what you are," Munaa said, gathering his courage, or perhaps still motivated by fear and desperation. "You're the Cold Reaper, the Snowstorm Phantom!"
"The Blizzard Ghost, the Whiteout Spirit, the Doom of Travelers... What others call me does not matter," the cloaked one replied. He looked squarely at Vekja. "She is dying...and I am here to take her into her resting place."
"No!" Munaa shouted, refuting that future with his entire will.
"There is a reason for the legend," the Snowstorm Phantom replied, speaking too calmly and too slowly for Munaa's taste, given the situation. "Travelers lost in a snowstorm see me when death is near. I am a psychopomp. I do not kill...I lead to rest."
"And what about me?" Munaa asked, his voice trembling.
"You may be strong enough to survive this storm. If you are not, I will also collect you."
"There must be something you can do," Munaa pleaded. "You're a spirit. Can't you do something to extend her life? Can't you leave her soul where it is?"
"Her body cannot contain her spirit for much longer," the reaper replied, shaking his head.
"Please! I'll do anything -- just save my sister!" Munaa cried.
The Blizzard Ghost sighed and looked away for a moment. Then, he muttered, "Perhaps...there is something I can do..."
Munaa's eyes lit up with hope. "There is? P-please! Whatever it is, do it!"
The psychopomp looked back to the male Coatl, his mouth pressed into a serious line. "I will have to curse you."
Munaa balked a little, surprised by the offer. "Curse?"
The phantom nodded. "Your vitality will leave your body and sustain hers. It will not be enough to wake her, but she will live...until you die. Your life will halve, and she will remain in a coma until this finite resource is used up. This curse is very serious...I will not lock you into it. To seal this curse, your memories will be locked away, separated from your conscious thought. You will have amnesia. If ever you decide to break the curse, all you have to do is remember your past. Whatever time you have left will no longer be split between you and your sister. You will have the rest of your days, and she will die. Death cannot be avoided forever, no matter what anyone does. Do you understand?"
Inside, Munaa knew that this descision required more time to think through than he had. Truly, this was a difficult thing that the phantom was asking him. He would forget all of the times he had shared with his sister. She would be alive, but not be able to enjoy her life. And his own life would be much shorter than it otherwise would have been...but Vekja would be alive. Really, for him, that was all there was to think about. "I understand. Please, save my sister!"
The spirit dipped his wispy head. "Very well...I will tether your life force to her body...and your memories will be locked away."
Munaa could feel himself growing weaker and his plumage fading into a much paler version of what it had been. All the while, his memories began to fade away. The spirit before him seemed to disappear into the snowstorm while all this was going on...and yet, he could hear the Mirror's last words to him.
"I will guide you to a nearby town called Eightleaf, then to its clinic. There, I will leave you to your new life. Make the most of what little time you have...and remember to return fate to what it once was."
Munaa carried his sister through the snow as his memories faded away. Soon, he found himself pounding on a door and calling desperately for help. He was let in, and so his life in Eightleaf Town began.
Meanwhile, locked in her mind, Vekja came into an awareness. She couldn't see the area around her, or feel anything around her body. Sounds and smells couldn't reach her. Her body couldn't tell her what was happening to the world around her...and yet, some things did reach her. She knew what the psychopomp had done to her and her brother. She knew the condition that would end the curse and save him from his early death. Unable to be heard, from inside of her mind, she cried, a memory manifesting as a picture on the wall: the time she and her brother danced in the Juneflowers.
"Please, Munaa... Please! I was meant to die, not you! Don't die because of me! Live! Please, Munaa... Please, remember..."
To see the rest of the story, visit Munaa and Vekja's pages.
Munaa:
Vekja:
The Cold Reaper:
Those of you who I think would want to see this:
@MotherOfOmens @Ecology
I can't think of any others. :P
The life of an orphan is sad and harsh, no matter where such dragons live or how they became them. Even for such souls, however, happiness can bloom, and family can be found. So it was for certain Coatls who lived in the wintry lands of the Southern Icefield. They found one another, abandoned or left alone after their parents' deaths. One way or another, they were all alone for a time, before finding one another and forming a family. Few were related by blood, but all of them saw each other as siblings. Some sought help from other dragons, and some were even adopted into such clans. Others learned to survive with only one another to rely on. This story focuses on two of them: a brother and sister. Munaa and Vekja.
They were each other's favorite siblings, and the cheery, younger Vekja would always pull her brother along on her adventures, and seek his help when she had a problem. Munaa likewise loved his sister's reliance on him, and always did his best to provide her with what she needed. Munaa knew a little bit of the world, and taught his sister what he knew. Sometimes, he would make things up because he didn't actually know the answer to a question she had. Vekja thought her brother was the smartest boy in the world, and Vekja was Munaa's light.
One of the things that Munaa knew was that the Icewarden ruled over the Southern Icefield, and had power beyond imagining. He and his sister loved to dance together, and when his little sister asked about the Icewarden's powers, he guessed as well as he could about the amazing things he could do. They formed a habit of dancing to ask the Icewarden for things, and to thank him when those wishes came true. Vekja loved Juneflowers, and so when they found some after asking the Icewarden for some, they danced in gratitude. This is Vekja's most cherished memory.
Life was good to the little orphans despite their unfortunate circumstances. Life was also cold, and being of slender build and slight constitution didn't help the two keep warm. Being ice-elemented dragons did, of course. And so, they survived in the cold.
One day, now young adults, while traveling the icefield, a whirling, monstrous blizzard swept through the area. The siblings were trapped, and couldn't find a way out. Both of them were cold and huddled together as they stumbled about, trying to find shelter. Then, Vekja collapsed, pulling Munaa -- whose arms were wrapped around her -- down into the snow with her.
"Vekja!" Munaa gasped in alarm.
Vekja's voice was weak and trembling. He could barely hear her over the howling wind. "Mu... I... S-so cold..."
"I won't leave you, Vekja. Come on! We have to find shelter!" Munaa tried to pull his sister up, but she didn't have the strength to stand and he, himself, was too weak to lift her.
"I...c-can't..."
It was all she could manage, fading into unconsciousness. Munaa was terrified. He couldn't imagine his life without his sister. He couldn't lose her. Looking around in desperation, he could barely make out a figure standing nearby, clad in all white.
"Please!" Munaa called to the stranger, "Please, help us!"
For a moment, the figure remained still. Then, the dragon came closer to the siblings. As he drew closer, Munaa was able to make out the whispy figure more clearly. It was a Mirror, from the looks of him, but he had an otherworldly quality about him, and his white robes seemed to almost be a part of the blizzard itself, tattered and billowing.
Munaa gasped, remembering a legend he'd heard about a specter which resode in blizzards. He had many names, depending on the local variations, but the legend never changed: he was a wintry grim reaper who escorted into the afterlife the souls who died in blizzards. Munaa wrapped himself protectively around Vekja.
"What do you want?" Munaa asked, fear in his eyes and his strength having fled his voice.
The figure stood silently.
"I know what you are," Munaa said, gathering his courage, or perhaps still motivated by fear and desperation. "You're the Cold Reaper, the Snowstorm Phantom!"
"The Blizzard Ghost, the Whiteout Spirit, the Doom of Travelers... What others call me does not matter," the cloaked one replied. He looked squarely at Vekja. "She is dying...and I am here to take her into her resting place."
"No!" Munaa shouted, refuting that future with his entire will.
"There is a reason for the legend," the Snowstorm Phantom replied, speaking too calmly and too slowly for Munaa's taste, given the situation. "Travelers lost in a snowstorm see me when death is near. I am a psychopomp. I do not kill...I lead to rest."
"And what about me?" Munaa asked, his voice trembling.
"You may be strong enough to survive this storm. If you are not, I will also collect you."
"There must be something you can do," Munaa pleaded. "You're a spirit. Can't you do something to extend her life? Can't you leave her soul where it is?"
"Her body cannot contain her spirit for much longer," the reaper replied, shaking his head.
"Please! I'll do anything -- just save my sister!" Munaa cried.
The Blizzard Ghost sighed and looked away for a moment. Then, he muttered, "Perhaps...there is something I can do..."
Munaa's eyes lit up with hope. "There is? P-please! Whatever it is, do it!"
The psychopomp looked back to the male Coatl, his mouth pressed into a serious line. "I will have to curse you."
Munaa balked a little, surprised by the offer. "Curse?"
The phantom nodded. "Your vitality will leave your body and sustain hers. It will not be enough to wake her, but she will live...until you die. Your life will halve, and she will remain in a coma until this finite resource is used up. This curse is very serious...I will not lock you into it. To seal this curse, your memories will be locked away, separated from your conscious thought. You will have amnesia. If ever you decide to break the curse, all you have to do is remember your past. Whatever time you have left will no longer be split between you and your sister. You will have the rest of your days, and she will die. Death cannot be avoided forever, no matter what anyone does. Do you understand?"
Inside, Munaa knew that this descision required more time to think through than he had. Truly, this was a difficult thing that the phantom was asking him. He would forget all of the times he had shared with his sister. She would be alive, but not be able to enjoy her life. And his own life would be much shorter than it otherwise would have been...but Vekja would be alive. Really, for him, that was all there was to think about. "I understand. Please, save my sister!"
The spirit dipped his wispy head. "Very well...I will tether your life force to her body...and your memories will be locked away."
Munaa could feel himself growing weaker and his plumage fading into a much paler version of what it had been. All the while, his memories began to fade away. The spirit before him seemed to disappear into the snowstorm while all this was going on...and yet, he could hear the Mirror's last words to him.
"I will guide you to a nearby town called Eightleaf, then to its clinic. There, I will leave you to your new life. Make the most of what little time you have...and remember to return fate to what it once was."
Munaa carried his sister through the snow as his memories faded away. Soon, he found himself pounding on a door and calling desperately for help. He was let in, and so his life in Eightleaf Town began.
Meanwhile, locked in her mind, Vekja came into an awareness. She couldn't see the area around her, or feel anything around her body. Sounds and smells couldn't reach her. Her body couldn't tell her what was happening to the world around her...and yet, some things did reach her. She knew what the psychopomp had done to her and her brother. She knew the condition that would end the curse and save him from his early death. Unable to be heard, from inside of her mind, she cried, a memory manifesting as a picture on the wall: the time she and her brother danced in the Juneflowers.
"Please, Munaa... Please! I was meant to die, not you! Don't die because of me! Live! Please, Munaa... Please, remember..."
To see the rest of the story, visit Munaa and Vekja's pages.
Munaa:
Vekja:
The Cold Reaper:
Those of you who I think would want to see this:
@MotherOfOmens @Ecology
I can't think of any others. :P
