[livejournal.com profile] libraryofwinds: Feelings

Jan. 21st, 2007 08:42 am
alainn_aislinn: (One dream (in the night))
[personal profile] alainn_aislinn
In the time before humanity followed us to Eire's island, the time before the tales are told and the time before they named us, the time before we met tellers of tales and artists and had our calling become clear; in the time before they named us Leanan Sidhe, the fairy mistress or fairy sweetheart; in the time before all this, the children of Dana had another name for us. In that time, there were children born, children who dabbled in the secrets of the universe as all children do, working to shift their universe to be as they wished it, but who could only master the most basics of the skill. They were pitied, these children, for generations, shifting to marry only their own, love those like them, bear more children who could only manage the basics of magic, things even humans could later manage should they study enough.

Then the pity faded. The children were named.

In the time before the humans named us, took us as their muses, we were called Truth Shapers. Deeper, darker than the telepathy all the children of Dana shared, we saw the things unsaid, unthought, the fluid field that flowed beneath thought, that influenced it, that reacted to it, that indicated if the thought was truth, or a lie even to the self. We saw the feelings.

The pity shifted to fear in some, for our power was not just to sense the feelings. We could share them, brush against them, speak truth to truth, and ultimately change the truths. We became the priests and priestesses, the conduits of Dana's will, the readers of the soul. They saw us as a link to gods that had abandoned them, parents, grandparents, siblings fled into the West. They thought we could see their echoes, and so did we. We saw them in their souls, and in our own, but at some point, the feelings of the gods left, edged out, banked in ice waiting to be melted into something new, but the heat of their creating fire was gone.

When the humans came, they brought it back, pulled us to their fire, the power of creation, the heat of the gods above, those that fled from this world, fled from us even. We felt them again, the loss of what we were, the loss of who we were--we found that in them, in the tellers of tales. We spoke to their souls, and they listened, and new worlds were created to remember the old and move them where they should have gone but for war and death and loss and pain. There was pain in the creation, birth pains and heartache, but the creation stood. Stands.

Emotion has power to shape everything. It hurts. It is frightening. It is always a risk, because creation is a risk. Feeling is a risk, but without it, nothing beautiful could ever be born.

I think it is worth the risk.

ooc: edited some
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