Louisa

Louisa | "Exalted Gardener"


Gild me with the relics of your past. I draw upon the desert reaches; I thrum with the coming of autumn. To you, I call the vultures; coyote-clever, wind in plain sight into the passageways left by time. Hang the trappings in the trees, the copper chimes, the rusted emblems, guard against the vicious spring, peer into muddied water and find that far-sight suits you best. Only in adverse climes may I dazzle. Shade your eyes, and watch the eclipse burn.
credit to SilverSilver for this wonderful piece





Long ago was Louisa brought into the jungled habitat of Deepbloom, found as a hatchling and brought to the clan by a sympathetic Kith. But the prophet Aja was sickened by her bloodshot eyes, sickened by her illness -- and when the Council refused to abandon the sickly child once more, they eventually agreed to keep her in a den separate from all other hatchlings.

Upon Louisa's maturity, her disease remained, and the Council was forced by Aja and his supporters to place her in an overgrown quarantine an hour's walk from the dens, shut in by tall vined fences and guarded by Wynfor. She spent her days gardening and speaking to her guard when briefly allowed, and grew into a somewhat bitter, fiery presence. Her gentleness for plants, however, captivated Wynfor the most, enough to ignore even Frog's own warnings to never enter Louisa's garden.

And alone once again, Louisa mothered five hatchlings, all inheriting her feverish sick. And though she fought with the force of a thousand Emperors, Aja took her children from her, declaring that they had too much potential to be left to rot with their ill mother...

...all but one, the middle, the most frail, one whom Aja looked upon with disgust. That one, the thing she called Elizabeth, was hopeless. It would surely die in months. Louisa could keep her Elizabeth.

Louisa raised Elizabeth diligently, treating her with all the love and care she knew mothers must have. She spoke not a word to anyone else about Elizabeth's immunity to her disease. She said nothing of how, though the child seemed strickened with a mild fever, the absentminded child did not carry the same dire symptoms as her mother.

The garden grew in size, though only slightly, as more unwanted creatures were deposited in its safe clutches. Poems, the recordkeeper, visited Louisa and her daughter often, giving them books for Louisa to entertain Elizabeth with. Despite her circumstances, the wildclaw healed; she was happy here with her daughter, happy to waste away in the lush growth of the wilds. She took on a mate, Harvest, a like-minded wildclaw visitor who fell in love with her home, and had two sons, George and Lowertown. How they reminded her of her youngest, Gyaran, who used to visit but now refused to see her.

The past was the past. Louisa was ready and eager to accept the present, the future. She was ready to allow everyone to forget about her.

Aja, however, was not so kind. When two of his followers turned to gaolers, he watched as they ripped the garden apart, spreading and scattering the inhabitants through the Gladeveins to be hunted and killed for sport. Louisa and her small family managed to track down and regroup with the others before Aja could find them, but they were all deeply shaken, later forced to migrate with Deepbloom to the Sunbeam Ruins in order to ensure their safety. Louisa had to leave with the ruins of her home behind her.

The past was the past. She tried to reassure herself of this constantly. A daily mantra as her denmates rebuilt in the temple ruins of the Mirrorlight Promenade, as the war between the Worthies and Deepbloom raged on. She tried her best to live. To survive, as her ancestral allegiance dictated. One day, just like the Plaguelings she felt no connection to beyond birthright, she would celebrate life as she had lived it. She would celebrate that perseverant seed within, stubbornly growing and living and learning the same through it all.

Her family grew, by blood and by new companionship. Her temple was strong in the face of hatred and destruction. They lived as Louisa had always hoped, and with each harrowing experience, the grip of her illness and the perception of it as a hindrace faltered.

It hurt to live- - it killed, thoroughly and often -- but despite it all, here she stood.

And now, in the era of peace, she will celebrate life, death, and starting anew.