open | the old, old winds blowing you back around

[creidim]

Who: Luna Lovegood + you!
What: September Catch-all + Event Prompts to follow.
When: Late-August; the month of September.
Where: The Farther Shores; Gaze; Others.

☽ the pale morning sings of forgotten things | the farther shores | arrival
cw: thalassophobia; refs to drowning; possible nudity / partial nudity; amnesia-related themes

---

[ It's strange, remembering. At first, a little frightening — the waters all around her, the ocean floor falling away from her feet. She'd walked into the sea, her hand in another's, following the moon, the mother — she'd felt cold, at first. And she'd been frightened despite herself; feet kicking uselessly, trying to find a surface to stand upon but finding nothing there. Nothing at all; only the murky, heavy feeling of water all around her. But after a while, something seemed to wash over her — it didn't feel so scary anymore. The moon had said so, hadn't she—? It didn't feel like anything, anymore. She remembers the ocean swallowing her whole, and then being alone — bobbing silently along with the waves.

She'd felt small, quiet. She is little more than that. But— oh, she will be Something. She swims with purpose, drawn one direction. She will be Something! Something that is far more than just small and quiet. She wants to know what it is. And soon enough, she will find out — the endless ocean sweeps into shore and there's sand beneath her. Hands reach for her, soft and warm and safe. The woman smiles, her words are soft and warm, too.

Hello, old friend. It is so good to see you again. I have missed you. And she believes it, she does. And the process begins: gentle coaxing to remember, the strangeness of it all. She remembers the feeling of the cold air on her skin; paint on her fingertips, under her nails; how the forest floor feels beneath her bare feet; she remembers silver of her eyes, so wide and so curious, the curve of her smile and the taste of sugar on her tongue. She remembers, faintly, the feeling of fingers coaxing her hair — how long and pale, scraggly curls tucked carefully behind her ear. The woman is kind and patient with her, wrapping her up in the dark robe — exclaiming gently: Aren't you a small thing? Just as I remember. It's a little big for you but it'll do.

She still feels strange, different. But whole. A girl. She is... here.

The woman leaves her be after a while, and the girl sits on the warm black sand — still strange but content. Her legs stretch before her, she tries to wriggle her toes. She seems enthralled by her fingers, and bends to start drawing shapes in the sand: stars, a crescent moon, a rabbit, a leaf, all sorts of things — although they don't quite look how they're supposed to. She'll stretch as far as she can, long blonde hair covering her face and drifting lazily in the sea breeze, fighting against the fabric of her robe, partially disrobed the longer she works. Still, she seems quite happy in her own world making soft little chirrups and babbling sounds, relatively subdued. And that's where she'll stay, where she can be find by others.

At some point, perhaps after you've come across her — this strange, partially dressed girl drawing so intensely in the sand — a dog will arrive. Huge, almost wolf-like. Some kind of large husky or malamute. Maybe you followed the dog as she searched along the shore, looking for someone, or maybe the dog recognised you and is bringing you along as she looks for her owner. She's excited to see the girl, licking at her face and whining. But the girl just pets the dog, still making her little sounds — no words coming yet — looking up with wide eyes and pointing at you. Oh! It's you! Whoever you are!

Or perhaps it's much later, the day shifting to night. The girl remains on the beach amongst the drawings in the sand, the dog resting at her side. She continues to pet the dog absently; she doesn't know the dog's name but she seems know that the dog does belong to her. Has it always? Or is it just now? She doesn't know. But she's still relatively calm and quiet until she catches sight of the pale red moon that hangs in the skies. And then, the girl comes alive. She stares at the moon peeking over the horizon and after a long moment, something clicks inside of her. Recognition washes over her face, sheer delight and excitement lighting up her eyes. She starts shrieking gleefully, growing louder and louder and more incessant.

It's gibberish that comes out, but there's a few words here and there that sound like sense: Moon! I am Moon! Moon! Mum! Mum, Moon! ]

☽ every once in a while I'd sing a song for you | the farther shores | arrival pt. ii
cw: amnesia-related themes

---

[ Once she's gotten the hang of using her legs again, Luna walks slowly down the boardwalk. She's still dressed in the robe she'd been given by the Waker, a tiny thing swamped in the black and her long sea-soaked hair loose down her back, looking more like a lost child than anything else. But she's not alone, a huge, wolf-like dog hovers at her side — almost half the height of her. Luna keeps one hand on the dog, occasionally petting the soft grey fur of her back. Helga keeps watch of her owner, grumbling low if anyone comes too close — she seems to understand something's not quite right with Luna, and just wants to keep a close eye on her. But not even Luna can explain what it is, the pieces of her mind still putting themselves back together.

Luna walks as if in a daze, slow and uneven steps, taking the place in — or trying to. There's so much around her: so many sights and smells she doesn't really know where to look first. It's... dizzying, overwhelming. Her mouth opens and closes silently, brow upturned for a moment: hungry. And with the scent of cream and sugar so thick in the sea air, she doesn't really know where to go — doesn't have the sense to approach a stall.

Instead, something else catches her eye — the twinkling strings of fairy-lights that hang low across the boardwalk. Luna stops, stares for a long moment, utterly mesmerized. She... she remembers these, somehow. She remembers them as good, in some way. Her stomach rumbles softly and she makes a soft sound — her hands reaching up for the lights, fingers straining.

Maybe they'd be good to eat, she thinks. If she could just reach them. ]

☽ your timid smile | luna's home, gaze
cw: n/a

---

[ The rain seems almost endless, the sky thick with full, dark clouds. Days seem to drag on in a watery blur for the most part, downpours to drizzle and back again. Until one evening, the skies seem to ease off in their assault on the city below as the daylight fades to dusk. For a short while, things seem calm. Peaceful even. It's nice, even if the clouds never fully leave. Even if there's a definite chill in the air, summer on its way out. More rain will come soon, but for now there's a break — the pale blood moon keeping watch above.

And then comes the haunting melodies that grace the open air: Moon Presence sweeps low in the skies, swirling effortlessly around building tops — moves with meaning and without it too. She goes where she pleases, it seems. She sings to the city as night approaches, soft ethereal music that seems to echo across different part of the city. As she moves through Gaze, she seems to hover around on a particular street for some reason — low, easy circling that seems a great deal more meaningful. It seems something has caught her attention.

Until it becomes apparent that on this one particular street in Gaze, there is a teenage girl sat upon the roof of a tall Georgian-style townhouse. It appears that she's climbed out from one of the attic-room windows, quite at ease as she perches. Luna stares up into the skies, wide eyes watching Moon Presence as she draws close for a moment and then swirls away again. It's hard to tell from the height, but there's a conversation of some sort — the girl speaking softly to her whenever she floats close by.

This is who's gotten Moon Presence's attention for the moment, until she notices whoever's watching the two of them and turns to look. Luna blinks and looks down at the pavement, beaming and then waving at the person below. She looks delighted. ]

It's alright—! Everything's fine—! Come say hello—!

☽ rise above the mountains and the stars and the sea | archaic archives, gaze
cw: n/a

---

[ It's a delightful discovery to find that the library is so close to home, that she lives in the same district as it. It doesn't take her long to venture to the Archaic Archives; trust the Ravenclaw to make a beeline for such a place. While she does give the museum artefacts a look through, she's more interested in looking for some particular books. She wanders around purposely but on occasion some kind of curious thing on display will catch her attention and she'll stop to examine it for a short time before returning to her wanderings.

She'll be here for a good while, easy to come across as she carefully makes her way around the mazes of the library. Deerington's library will always have a special place in her heart, but this place is quite something. She'll definitely be found here often in the future. And certaintly she doesn't look lost at all, if you happen upon her. She looks quite at home, in fact. ]

It seems so easy to get lost in here, doesn't it?

[ And despite her words, she seems quite cheerful. ]

contact heolstor or heolstor#5725 for planning/plotting. event-related prompts to follow. plotting post is here