The Eternity Tree (and shadow)

July 28, 2009 at 6:46 pm (celebrations, ETC Adventures (Doctor... Who?), original poetry/prose, the Muse sings)

The Banshee is dressed in teal silk and strange looks today; she takes slow, thoughtful steps around the grove, as if considering the implications of every misplaced twig and crushed blade of grass.  She is very pale, staying to the shadows of the tall trees. Her eyes are bloodshot, but her gaze strangely clear.  As you approach, you get the sense off her of one in the fierce calm after great revelation.  She looks up at you and smiles… heartbreakingly soft, the lines of her face, the kindness in her eyes.

She makes a gentle curtsey to you in greeting; asking after your health and happiness.  As the conversation lulls, your eyes stray to the Tree at the center of the grove: it looks just slightly out of place there, as if it just… appeared.  But of course, that is ridiculous; trees do not move… do they?

Like a dreamer, the rest of her words do not make a great deal of sense…

That… that is my Tardis.  Was it you I showed it to, those ye– weeks ago…?  It’s very large inside, you know, as they all are…

She’s been growing.  For more than three years, subjectively, now… and so, so late I am in finding a good name for her.  She has carried me from one end of the universe to the other, and to a few stops in between.  I haven’t the courage, yet, to push her to show me that first Big Bang, or the… final gasp of nothingness at the end of Time.  She could, though… she has held me in her branches, been safety, even safe enough to host a meeting with a sort of god…

She’s got a name now… would you like to hear it?  I was talking with the Old Man this morning and… it just came to me.  The Eternity Tree….  Isn’t that lovely?  I planted her into herself, in a place beyond nothingness, in the Void of Everything… and she has grown so, so lovely.  So strong, her roots and vines and branches spreading out and out, drawing sustenence from the stray flashes of… what are they flashes of?  I don’t understand it yet, it’s all strange maths.  But she is well-fed, and well-loved, and now, she has a good name.  The Eternity Tree.  The “ETT” for short… that was the Old Man’s idea.

She looks at the tree lovingly for a few moments: at the branches that sway to a breeze you do not feel, at the pale blossoms that may fall but never touch this ground.  And then her eyes grow dark at strange thoughts.  Her next words are slow, as if unsure of every word, every thought…

He… He said I… something about having it within me to move beyond the need for her, even her.  No, not the Old Man, The… The Other.  He said I was… powerful.  Very, very powerful.  Blood of the Ancients… I do not understand it.  How can IT BE?!

She crumples to the ground, long dark hair falling around her like a cloak as she weeps in confusion, a great tumbling wave of released tension rolling out in dense crimson droplets, staining her face and fingers and gown.  She looks up at you, a visage like desperate murder, her eyes wide and wild.  She seems to look through you… and then the peace returns to her bloodstained face.  She smiles softly, beatifically, a pale bloody angel.

He said He wouldn’t– didn’t want to harm them.  Is He… is He looking out for me?

She smiles, and dabs at her eyes and face with a black lace handkerchief, laughing a little at herself.  She glances up at you, blushing a little.

I’m so sorry… you’ve found me on a strange day.  No– no, thank you, I’ll be fine.  Really, I… think I’ll be finer than ever.  Please… you should go.  I have much to think on and… should leap into the water to wash off all this… blood and darkness.  Yes.  Today I should feel light!  I’ve seen the dead regenerated and come back to life, enjoyed the fond regard of a… ehm.

I should feel light.  The Eternity Tree will always be there.

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