In the beginning, the world was naught but stone. A vast, featureless plane of solid earth, untouched by time, with only the stale air above to keep it company. Then, for a reason no one knows, the winds began to move. The stone eroded away, carved out by zephyrs and gusts. Hidden within the world stone were pockets of the living rocks, around which the winds diligently moved and swirled. As the world stone crumbled away, all that were left where the pillars of living stone, whose skin was gently caressed by the ancient breezes. And thus the giants came into being. The living stone shifted and cracked, and so the titanic beings emerged from the pillars. Their immense forms shook the earth with each stride, rattling free their brothers and sisters and rocking the tall pillars that did not hatch. Those that did not become giants became the world trees, their pillars willingly carved by the winds into leaves and branches of peridot and iron. The giants set out, shaping the world stone into the valleys and mountains of our lands, with oceans filled by the ancient rains they called and forests raised from the ancient seeds they had sown. Eventually the giants returned to their slumber, the loam and roots and silts covering their bodies, letting the world remain ignorant that they had ever existed. The world trees remained, their peridot leaves pulsing under the warming sunlight, and their iron branches shifting in the wind. bedtiem furreal
Posted on: Mon, 02 Sep 2013 06:06:22 +0000
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