Fields of Lavender
By Deo dei Termini
It was a cool early summertime day in the rising part of June. I and my travelling companions trotted along upon our gilded Carriage as the day lazed away. My eyes soon felt themselves begin to wander towards the precipice of the windowpane, the fields glistening in a recently dropped sundew of the rain droplets upon the tall elephant grass. I remarked idly to my companions on their gleam. Though none felt it as interesting as I. Tapped the ceiling of the cab with the headpiece of my cane, a golden eagle sat upon a simple perch. A quiet tapping ringing out to halt the carriage in its way.
Once the good driver ceased our movement I made my way from the confines of the stifling coffin of the carriage and made my way to the fields. My eyes glancing over the horizon as I remarked idly upon the beauty of the serenity. To escape the cobblestone city and the encampments. To revel in the beauty and bliss of the quiet pristine beauty of nature. I moved to turn from the Grass before I was caught upon the Marvel of a field of purple and white flowers. Serene scenes of scented sublime scenery unable to be found in but a simple Grove or vineyard. A natural wonder of beauty upon this most glorious of lands. I stepped forward, my companions shadowing not far behind in their downtrodden step of scrapping metal. I moved across the dirt road and set myself at ends against the waves of flowers. Finding myself seeming miniscule in comparison to the brilliance of the colors. And so I stood their, gently remarking on its brilliance as the birds chirped the day away and the wind danced pirouettes upon the leaves I felt a calm assurance that today would last till tomorrow. And as I look just beyond the crested horizon of purple and white I hear the crashing of a sea shaven shore just beyond the hill. I reach my hand forward as if to grasp at the great expanse beyond and find myself incapable. An expanse of longing that I cannot contain the horizon beyond the waters. That I cannot contain the expanse of beauty beyond my own eyes. And as I turn from the Majesty that which is nature I take one last fateful glance on the field of Lavender and the Horizon yet to be found over the hill, and turn away with nought but a silent refrain of joy.
OOC: This is from a sequence I see Deo having gone through. A bit of Story poetry that I tried to write.
By Deo dei Termini
It was a cool early summertime day in the rising part of June. I and my travelling companions trotted along upon our gilded Carriage as the day lazed away. My eyes soon felt themselves begin to wander towards the precipice of the windowpane, the fields glistening in a recently dropped sundew of the rain droplets upon the tall elephant grass. I remarked idly to my companions on their gleam. Though none felt it as interesting as I. Tapped the ceiling of the cab with the headpiece of my cane, a golden eagle sat upon a simple perch. A quiet tapping ringing out to halt the carriage in its way.
Once the good driver ceased our movement I made my way from the confines of the stifling coffin of the carriage and made my way to the fields. My eyes glancing over the horizon as I remarked idly upon the beauty of the serenity. To escape the cobblestone city and the encampments. To revel in the beauty and bliss of the quiet pristine beauty of nature. I moved to turn from the Grass before I was caught upon the Marvel of a field of purple and white flowers. Serene scenes of scented sublime scenery unable to be found in but a simple Grove or vineyard. A natural wonder of beauty upon this most glorious of lands. I stepped forward, my companions shadowing not far behind in their downtrodden step of scrapping metal. I moved across the dirt road and set myself at ends against the waves of flowers. Finding myself seeming miniscule in comparison to the brilliance of the colors. And so I stood their, gently remarking on its brilliance as the birds chirped the day away and the wind danced pirouettes upon the leaves I felt a calm assurance that today would last till tomorrow. And as I look just beyond the crested horizon of purple and white I hear the crashing of a sea shaven shore just beyond the hill. I reach my hand forward as if to grasp at the great expanse beyond and find myself incapable. An expanse of longing that I cannot contain the horizon beyond the waters. That I cannot contain the expanse of beauty beyond my own eyes. And as I turn from the Majesty that which is nature I take one last fateful glance on the field of Lavender and the Horizon yet to be found over the hill, and turn away with nought but a silent refrain of joy.
OOC: This is from a sequence I see Deo having gone through. A bit of Story poetry that I tried to write.
