Run

[Chuuwys 502]

Spoiler

The following is a creative writing piece for experimentation, personal character lore and exploration.

 

Please do not use the information here unless it has been shared by me in character.

 

 

 

“I want you to run.”

 

Under witness of the Prince of Foxes, the Matriarch extended a mayflower to the young Mali’ame before her.
Her hands came to rest against the grass, a quiet whisper of life about her person that pierced the otherwise silent  evening.

“I want you to sprint out into the wilderness, and only stop when you feel it.”

 

The younger elf took the mayflower gently, cradling the miniscule pale pink blossom in her hand. “Feel it?”

 

The older woman nodded sagely. “You’ll know when you find it.”

 

“And… then what do I do?”

 

“Whatever you feel is natural. Once you feel you are finished, return to us once more.”

 

Suliin’yuln heaved in a deep breath and finally stood up from the flourishing grass beneath her,

placing the mayflower on the Fox’s back. She paid her respects with a quick nod of her head, turning on her heel.

 

She runs.

 

She runs, and runs, 

 

without looking back.

 

Everything that had been weighing on her mind; attacks on the city, her dedicancy, her job, her life, her weaponry and even her newly captured heart - all of it had been left behind.

 

Her legs move before her mind can catch up and tell her to stop or slow. A brisk pace morphing into a full blown sprint, taking full advantage of the fact she had left her weapons behind. Her heart tells her to keep going, so she does.

She swallows it all wholly, the scent of the lichen and damp undergrowth of the Black Forest imbuing her with an old spirit. A sense that she followed in the ancient hallways of ancestors she’ll never meet or know. Blessings from gods that granted them the agility and skills to traverse the thick treelines anywhere the Mali’ame went.

 

She runs for hours and hours, till her body is about ready to give up. When her head starts to ache, her vision blurred between blinks and limbs screaming for respite. Her run slows to a jog, to a walk, practically dragging herself to a source of clean drinking water.

 

Suliin’yuln drops to her knees beside the river, throat sore and lungs aching from overuse and dehydration. Her legs begin to cramp, forcing her to finally stay her movements and rest alongside the water. The pebbles lining its edges dig into her uncomfortably, forcing the use of her dominant hand to keep her balance while she leant over, cupping her left hand to drink with.

 

The cool water is like ambrosia, a long awaited reprieve after all the strain that led her there. A few more sips later, she sinks her hand below the surface to splash it across her face, washing away hours of dirt and sweat. Suliin reaches a hand for her cloak to wipe her face with the newly frayed and torn fabric. Pulling the fabric from her eyes to dry the rest of her face, she finds herself pausing at what stares back in the water.

 

Agitated, unclear, the river moves too fast for her to properly make sense of who she was looking at. Logic in the back of her head informs her that it’s her she’s looking at, obviously; but there’s another piece there, addled by exhaustion and dopamine, that tells her something is off. Come to think of it, she hasn’t stopped to see her own reflection even in the still washbowls at home.

Her left hand, decorated in the scars of a trial successfully passed, caresses her cheek and jaw then moving to rest at her chin. The way her eyes narrow at herself. A learned and valuable skepticism she levies at others - yet for longer than that, not something she has aimed at herself.

 

Her ear flicks at the sound of oncoming footfalls, slowly turning to face it. Vuln. A fox.

 

Her eyes must be playing tricks on her. Suliin’yuln understands that she has exhausted herself, but the sight of the white coat and padded silver feet, whiskers that sense beyond themselves, feels far beyond what should be real. So far from the snow. Silently it sits by the river only a few feet away to drink from the same river she had only minutes before.

In her tired mind, she reaches her hand towards the fox in disbelief. Fore she can react to pull away, it bites harshly against her flesh, a new and deeper set of wounds atop what had already healed and scarred. Suliin tugs her hand away as the fox retreats, bounding to the other side of the narrow river and turning to watch her closely.

 

No words are shared, only a leveled and suspicious stare from one to the other. The Mali’ame doesn’t dare to break her line of sight till the fox does, trailing into the undergrowth without her.

 

She won’t make the same mistake twice. She washes her hand under the water and pushes herself up from the stones, enduring the pain in her legs when the change in pressure reminds her blood to move again. She jumps the river after it, refusing to let it out of her sight again.

 

When you see the tail of a fox escape into the bushes, treasure is sure to come to those who follow it.

 

Edited November 17, 2025 by Chuuwys

[Junoix 2301]

The Matriarch sat at the feet of her beloved Patron, watching the leaves above sway in the wind. Patiently she waited at the shrine, hoping eagerly for the return of specific young lari'.

"Father, Sonnos, guide her path.."

[jcobmurph 13]

Kael Leafman stands at the gates, looking out stoically towards the roads that have been such danger to the people of Iryalen. With a sudden jolt, he is spun around for a quick moment, Suliin saying her goodbyes. Sharing a parting embrace, he is given her bow, dagger and arrows. With a fit of confusion, he tries to figure out what is happening but it all came in a blur. One moment, there, another gone.

 

Worrying hours turn into days as he stands watch on the gates, more often than he usually has in the past. He opts to take a break, seeking out one of his closet friends and mentors, Arhiln of Caerme'onn.

 

"But why would she leave her posessions with me and just...vanish?" I chime.

 

"If she didn't intend on returning, she wouldn't have given you such important items." He retorts.

 

After seeking out some reassurance, the man gently brought his hand up to his chest, closing his eyes and sending prayers of safety to the Aspects. A small indent where his heart was suggested he was clutching something unseen, masked by Arhiln's cloak and for those brief seconds, he knew she would return.

[DistantCryptid 405]

"I'm over the walls
Out the door
On my way
Because the wind won't wait for me."

There it was, a mantra of sorts, uttered under the winged thing's breath as they had scaled mountains and made way by lazy rivers, hummed under their breath from the litany of songs collected from their childhood. They understood it, perhaps more than most, what need there was to simply run, to dissapear, into the woods, into the cold, not chasing, or fleeing, simply walking, running, sprinting.
They understood it for they had felt it, many times, nothing had to exactly go wrong for it to call to them, it simply was there, present as ever. Their student's absence was not scrutinized,  just as their own hadn't been for many a time, knowing she was capable, knowing that distance might just be what the mind needs.