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My thoughts have always been a knot of loose ends, fraying in every direction at once. -She sits under a tree, wings folded behind her, as she thoughtfully scribbles on the page- Once again, I find myself contemplating my elemental alignment. Another day has passed where a fellow druid has been shocked that I have not aligned yet, after so many years. My brief explanation can't fully encompass the indecision I've gone through in trying to make the right choice. I'd always felt that I was a practical sort of person, self-sufficient, and could pretty much make something out of nothing. I've spent two decades rooted in this grove, watching the moss claim the stones of the hall. Earth is abundance, ritual, the truth of the soil. I am a Druid; my hands are always stained with it. Yet, even with my feet planted so firmly, I am coming no closer to a resolution. Then there is water. I used to think it was perfect for me. I can connect with people on a deep level, offer my shoulder or an ear if needed. -She looks up a moment to watch a butterfly flutter by on the breeze- Water people are intuitive, sometimes even called psychic. I've been told more than once to 'get out of someone's head.' I am very much like water. It is my blood, the legacy of the Gwragedd Annwn. But for twenty years, I've felt that blood stilled by the roots of the grove, hardened by the stone of the hall. I thought I was becoming solid. I didn't realize I was just waiting for the current to catch me. -Her eyebrows furrow, as she contemplates- I've thought about fire only briefly. While I can be passionate and independent, I'm not a leader-- it's too much pressure, like a hearth that must be constantly fed or it dies. I'm too emotional, too prone to... well, I have trouble staying in one place. I've known several fire people and no... they are a sun that burns, and I've spent my life trying to find some shade. Yea, that's definitely not me. I enjoy people's company and can be very talkative. My thoughts move like the deep currents of the lake, slow and heavy, while my clan moves like the wind. I am coming no closer to a resolution; I am simply a stone in the stream, watching the world rush by, getting no closer to an answer. While my thought processes might not be as quick as I'd like them, I can be quite adaptable and good at thinking outside of the box, often coming up with solutions to various problems. -The leaves rustle overhead as the breeze picks up, no longer a whisper but a firm hand. It sweeps across her lap, plucking the ink-stained pages and tossing them like confetti into the light. She scrambles for a moment, then stops, watching them dance just out of reach, untethered at last- I'm often told that I'm fun and friendly, and I'm just a great people person. But I am a creature of the lake, and sometimes I feel that old, deep coldness creeping in, the detachment of the Gwragedd Annwn. My niece seeks the warmth of the spotlight and the rush of the crowd, but I... I prefer the conversation of the leaves. Air people are free-spirited, and just go where the winds take them. They are full of ideas. But am I like that? I sometimes feel too rigid, I am a creature of the lake trying to learn the language of the leaves. Perhaps I am thinking about this too hard. -She leans back against the tree, enjoying the breeze on her face with her eyes closed as she compares them all in her mind- I've been at this crossroad for 20 years and still haven't picked. -She watches the cardinal's feather dancing on the currents, refusing to land, until it finally brushes her cheek. She feels a sudden, strange weightlessness in her chest. She sits up abruptly, eyes flying open as she stares at the quill, then looks up into the empty, vast blue above the canopy- "Unable to make a decis... Oh!" Diarmuid poeticme Blood of the Gwragedd Annwn | |