Oordeel on DeviantArthttps://www.deviantart.com/oordeel/art/TPT-Animatic-Second-Child-Restless-Child-746243849Oordeel

Deviation Actions

TPT Animatic - Second Child, Restless Child

Oordeel

Published: May 23, 2018

5.3K Views

tpt theparadisetrials helena oordeel

Description

WATCH HERE
WATCH HERE
WATCH HERE
WATCH HERE

_{The world was different then. Kind. Peaceful. Green grass, blue skies, and rivers that ran clear and full. The summers were long and the winters were cold but it was right--it was a balance. There was no scorched earth, no nuclear winters… just the crisp scent of frost in the fall followed by the smell of wildflowers in the spring, over and over, an endless cycle. Balanced.

Two kits were born in the spring, under the new-born sun in the shade of the elderberries by the river. The breath of wild rose and lilac hung on the breeze. Red-winged blackbirds trilled in the marshes and bees hummed from flower to flower. A mother draws her tongue over the tiny heads of her children while a father looks on, his gaze soft as a prayer. The firstborn: a daughter, golden as the light dancing on a riverbed. Her brother, the second child, dark as a new moon. They were beautiful, the father says. God-given perfection.

The daughter and the son grow in a world of bounty. Silver fish leap from streams, and the tiny sounds of mice flutter in the undergrowth, never far away. No bellies are hungry, no threat preys on them like an owl in the night. They are free, free from hardship, from worry. They spend summer nights sprawled in the grass, heads bent together as they stare up into the jet-black out-there, telling stories of gods and heroes, of faraway places full of adventure. They talk themselves drunk on dreams of grandeur, of exploring worlds, of seeking that great unknown. He presses his forehead to hers, amber eyes meeting blue. Promise, he says. Promise we’ll do it all together. Promise it’ll be you and me, always.

And she does. She whispers back, Always.

They were only kids. That’s really all they ever were.

The son and the daughter grow strong, flushed by the promise of life, of a future. They keep their word to each other as they strike out into the world, young and brave and utterly unstoppable. The world rises to meet them. It is everything--it is terrible and wonderful, blessed and savage, full of fear and hope and wonder and many, many hard lessons. But in its challenge, it is beautiful. And through it all they stay together. Together, they know, they can do anything.

From a rooftop or a den or wherever they had settled for the night, she would shout it at the sky, at that same jet-black out-there they had watched as kids. Only the gods could tear us apart, she would declare. He would laugh and shove her shoulder and tell her to be quiet, get some rest, tomorrow is another day. They would drift to sleep in the familiarity of each other’s scents… the scent of safety. Of comfort. Of home.

They never actually thought that one day, the gods would come.

When they did, the son would remember his sister’s challenge to the sky, and wish she had never spoken. Because when the light called to her, she answered. She had to. And when the light swallowed her, enveloped her, became her...god, she looked so beautiful, just like how they had imagined gods should look as children. And more, she looked like she belonged. He knew this was her birthright as much as she felt it. Her calling, her destiny, to be the goddess of light and purity.

He was happy for her, because he knew this made her happy. But still, he begged her not to go. You promised, he would say when it became too much, pain and panic and fear and desperation tangled up in his words, because he couldn’t be without her, he didn’t know how to be without her. You promised it would be you and me always. Please, he begged. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me here alone.

And she knew, even for all the power in the world--she never would. She never could.

So she brokered a deal. She brought a compromise before the gods in a way no one had ever done before, because no one had dared before. She told the old gods if they wanted her, she would accept under one condition: balance. It was as it had always been: the daughter and the son, the light and the dark, the sun and moon and summer and winter. You can’t have one without the other. They were together--they would come as one, or not at all.

And so it was not even the gods could tear them apart. Together, two mortals raised on dreams of greatness gained their wings. The goddess of light, and the god of judgement.

Between them, they watched over the world, using their power to nurture and shape it. They created things, beautiful things, great things, marvelous and complicated things. They loved the world, and the beings that inhabited it. But as years stretched into decades, and decades into millenia, the world grew sick in a way that could not be healed. Soon no one remembered the way it was before. No one remembered the world when it was still good and beautiful.

But he remembered. He remembered it like a warm memory. He remembered the green grass. The blue skies. The rivers that ran clear and full. He remembered the crisp scent of frost in the fall and the smell of wildflowers in the spring. He remembered lilacs and wild roses and the song of red-winged blackbirds. He remembered the tender comfort of a mother’s tongue over the soft fur of her newborn.

Surely, he thought. Surely that was worth saving.

But she did not agree. She saw nothing worth saving anymore, nothing beyond the scorched earth and the tainted waters. Instead, she had turned her eye to a new world. An empty world, empty of everything. It was a blank slate. A tabula rasa. Ready to be inhabited by new creatures, new beings… souls without the contempt and hate and evil in their hearts that had led them to the destruction of their own beautiful world. Together, she knew, the two of them could create a world far better than the last.

But for the first time, they disagreed. She dismissed his desire to save their old world, and he dismissed her ideas for the creation of a new one. Neither would compromise. Neither would give up their dream. For the first time, they fought. Arguments escalated. Anger brewed like thunderclouds. They fought and they fought, and the rift between them became so great, they forgot their entire purpose. They forgot that they were the son and the daughter, the light and the dark. The balance.

Instead, they let their differences break them. Like two halves of one soul, they split apart.

Before they parted ways, they stood together one last time, somewhere far out in the jet-black out-there. Only the stars glowed around them as he looked at her, his eyes full of a lifetime of memories. You promised, he reminded her quietly. It was the first time he spoke to her without contempt in a long time.

She looked out, across the great expanse of the universe, expanding forever in all directions. Just as softly she replied, You did, too.}

Art (c) Staniqs
Writing (c) CaliberArts
Music (c) The Oh Hellos - Second Child, Restless Child

Image size

1920x1080px 934.45 KB

Comments16

Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In

HZPenblade

Apr 15, 2019

ok have you heard the song "promises" from the musical Hadestown? Because I feel like it fits that "you promised" scene so well aa