The dark side of the moon

Helio. Rides high, waving, dodging, his proud four best horses treading lightly upon space. The fiery sun blazes, hot enough to raise a droplet of sweat on his strained brow. His chariot shines brightly with the reflection of the powerful sun, gently off the well-polished mesmerizing wheels. His wild hair, flying in the wind, almost electrified, too many colours to count on two hands and two feet, but his brow only needs one finger to count to colour, and only one word to describe it; black and powerful.

Luka. Powerful body glides motionless through deep thought. His slender, but muscular, body is the trait of a dreamer. His staff laced with gold, floats only in grasp of his glistening fingertips. The winged cap, which covers his curly curls, which left untamed would run wild, has marvelous gold feathered wings, just waiting to soar, as his matching sandals, also ready for flight. This unique articles, shows his ability to manipulate his resources to his advantage.

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Latine. Woman of the water, flows through her finger tips like silk, her dress made of the same silk water like substance, flowing round her ankles, the rest of her body cover lightly. Her hands are delicate, like a harp player, every movement for the fingers to her toes, is deliberate and very powerful. Her body slender, which the silken material stretches round her curves, making her faults perfections. Her black ringlets show no mercy to her favourite ribbon refusing to stay tidy. Her bangles make her skin glow and glisten in the darkness, as she watches her refection move in her dress.

Wilsa. Wise woman, eyes shut listening to the world, the waves, the trees, the rocks being washed away by the sea, and the animals. Her green dress, and red hair, shows her compassion for her love of earth. She creates the cloud’s formation and releases powerful winds to the willing of her desires. Her peacefulness makes the surroundings seem empty. Her hair in braids twists around her body endlessly, like a beautifully carved piece of wood. Her peaceful tendencies, makes many jealous.

Mahogon. The chariot lady, her two horses resemble the moons surface perfectly, glowing, the strange swirling tattoos, the markings of a true war horse and perked ears showing great emotion and feeling for their rider. She, being extremely beautiful owns, two ears, two eyes, a nose, a mouth, two arms and two legs, ten fingers, ten toes, and a head full of hair thick enough to cover almost her sleek back. Her tattoos are remarkable and unique to her face, covering one eye from ear to nose perfectly.

Gorma. The elite in war, hot tempered, and buff. His sweat forms like raindrops upon his cloudy white skin as he draws his sword, in fiery battle mode, lips pout, head low, muscles bulging, checks pink, his red hair wild and free, clouding his hawk like vision, his green eyes narrowing into the distance, his staff shaking under his weight, waiting patently. His hand clasped around his sword, veins pumping blood to all parts of his body.

Slene. Woman of wonder, her body attired in gold thread, woven magically hangs from her body. From her hands grows wheat, the food of the gods, and around her neck weaving its body over her angelic like skin, slithers a coiling snake. She looks deeply into its eyes, the snake immediately entranced by her beauty and charms, as is any mortal or god. Her petite lips and olive skin tell a million life times of stories, her eyes seeming to be lost in the distance, slightly watering at each blink, showing strong emotion.

Augustus. Kind but powerful, shows mercy, forgives but not forgets. His perfectly sculpted body shows determination, motivation, and skill. His love for his own body shows, in his attire, blues, and greens, all draped upon his left shoulder flows like wine. His face is strong, stern looking, his hair and beard shows character, but hides nothing. The shield he bears was once his father’s, passed down from his father now in his possession, he holds his head high, with proud, to carry such a fine article.

Pandrella. Guard of the dark side of the moon, stands tall, wrapped in a cape, her hair trailing off with the wind, begging to play. Her expression dark, as she watches the boats float through to golden gates, taking the lost souls, holding them forever. The faceless souls, sit, huddling in the cold of the shadow, not a word, not a glance no movement, the lady stands, resting, on her bat like walking stick, arms folded, waiting, watching…

The dark side of the moon is covered, infected one might say, to as it’s colouring is blotched, black brown, green, like ink spilt, in a hurry to be cleaned up, but made terribly worse.

One hot night, Luka and Latine where strolling along the stars, gossiping about their other fellow companions. Suddenly, mid-sentence, Luka stops and stares at the moon. Latine, feeling the sudden conversation break, stares too. Her eyes glancing between the full moon and his fixed glance.

“Do you watch the moon often?” Luka sighs.

Latine replies, “Why do you ask such questions, the moon rises and sets every night, which is what lights our walks and I am grateful.”

Luka turns away “Why not give a straight answer?”

“Why so many questions?” Latine snaps, obviously offended by his words. Luka still staring at the moon, taking no notice of her tiz.

“Have you ever (Luka’s eyes lighting up) ever thought about the moon?” Latine turns her nose up at his question

“What Pandrella does with it is her business, I do not pry.” Luka snorts “you speak of her in ill-tongue, yet you constantly whisper about your brothers and just about everyone here”.

“You say that like it is a bad thing”, tears welling, brow tensing.

Latina shuts her eyes, focusing again, noticing Luka’s still, and fixed gaze on the moon. Getting annoyed, Latine replies to his question with another one “Why do you ask?”

“No reason, just…” he breaks off “just what?” she is getting impatient.

A long pause followed by

“Just, the other might, I thought I saw a canoe-like object floating back and forth by those rocks to the other side of the moon, carrying four cloaked figures each trip”.

He finally finishes, adding a puzzled look

“And you think I gossip, at least I don’t spy” she laughs.

Noticing his stern tone, she stops.

“If it makes you feel any better, we can visit Wilsa, she is very wise, I’m sure she can answer some questions”, hopefully looking into his eyes.

“Even better, we could call a Council… between all the Gods, asking for advice” he cries excitedly, tone completely different.

“I don’t know”, Latine looking small, “yes, definitely not a good idea”, she says shrinking and feeling even more insignificant.

“Why should we waste their time on such a pretty thing like this….” mid-sentence Luka says bluntly “thanks” and floats up fast, looking for another God to converse with.

Next thing Latine knows, all the gods are following Luka, making their way towards her, mumbling to themselves, every know and then a word can be herd, getting louder as they get closer.

When in earshot of Latine, they all become silent. She bows to her fellow gods and they do the same in return. Wondering what they would think of poor Luka, if this council didn’t go his way, trying to put it behind her she smiles to them, addressing them personally and asking of their health. Luka brings the council to order.

Luka starts by telling of the boats he saw, traveling to and from the moon carrying passengers, but only to never back, everyone whispers at this opening paragraph, as every god knows that it is not permitted for a god to have a mortal visitor, let alone a gust. Latine turns away from the council, having herd it all before, try to take some time out to let it all sink in. After a while she finds herself staring at the moon, like she is drawn to its beauty, she start to wonder, to ask questions, to think. These questions that she is asking herself, she alone dose not hold these answers.

The gods raise their arm in protest or outrage or even both, Latine’s not too sure. This arguing brings her attention back to the angry gods. Noticing them quarrelling between themselves, she looks at the moon once more, as if to check that its still there, but that wouldn’t surprise her after all that the night has turned out to her, she wouldn’t be the least surprises. Now more than ever she wante to believe Luka, wanted Luka to be right, these gods never respected him, and her never knew why, finding herself staring a small speck moving in the distance, she sqinks, to try and make out, this thing. As it gets closer she smiles,

“So this is what Luka must have seen,” she says aloud. Turning to the god’s council, Luka sqinks too.

“Yes,” he also says and smiles, as the council all stare into the sky and make shrieks of amazement.

Latine herself did not fully believe luyka, but now she would happily place his life in her hands, as he could do no wrong in her eyes. The gods, still staring into the sky, mouth wide open, amazed. This will help Luka, in his quest to discover what exactly it is that these mortal are visiting and stay at.

Suddenly her curiosity got the better of her and she started to float, slowly at first, then a she did this, the other gods followed too. They all must have the same idea, heading to the moon it was clear that Luke had the councils support, hands down. As they rose, she was puzzled as to what they might find, this to her was like a dream, unreal.

When they reach the moon’s dark surface, they all say a pray, as they land, asking for there blessing, realising they where all bowed heads she did the same and mutated along with them, worried now, at what they might find, by the sound of the prayer, it didn’t look good.

As she was in the middle of the third line, bless our souls for we are gods, she felt the ground move, she didn’t know why she hadn’t felt it before, it was like the surface was alive, a heart beating. She realized that the other gods hade felt it too, as they all look up, and survey their surrounds.

All the gods suddenly stop and stare, she slowly looks behind her, her eyes falling on an empty rowing boat, with missing oars. Then, still turning her head, something shinning behind her, a massive archway, with brilliant golden doors, with golden inscription above the archway.

Reads- at the edge of the sun’s domain, where the light dose not touch, chilled almost to the deepest cold that ever can be lies, me, the gats to Charon, two very different bodies, the sun and the moon, circle each other face-to-face. Here lies the realm of the lost souls of the dead, the boatman ferries them here to charon, and in charom they stay.

Latine looks around at all the other gods who are transfixed to the writing, suddenly; the doors begin to open so very slowly, letting them into their world so very slowly, bit by bit. Soon all the gods can see, and all that is in view is Pandrella. Pandrella walks to the entrance,

“I knew this day would come, stupid gods, never know what’s best for you all! Well as it so happens, I know what is good for u.”

She brings her hands up in front of her face, cups them together, and blows; the hands start to glow, the gods taken a back at this, retreat. They glow is strong now, not faint as it started out to be, but thriving now.

All at once, she points them, all ten fingers, at the gods, as it happens, many would think the gods, being clam, beings would be doomed, but the gods always play the ace when the time is right, and now would be a better time than any other.

All at once a gush of colour projects out of her finger tops, aimed right at the gods, as quick as it takes to think of a plan Augustus, has a plan thought up and put into action, he springs into the front of the line of fire, where all the gods stand defenseless, and uses his shield as a safe haven, for all the gods, but what he didn’t know is that the beam of certain death, did not only stop at that it rebounded off the shield, hitting Pandrella.

As they stand there in dismay, not even believing it them selves that Augustus had saved their lives at the risk of his own, but he dealt with the problem of Pandrella.

To their surprise, all around them, thousands of icy bodies wander through space, some even walking through the gods as if they aren’t even present. The feeling of one of these lost souls, walking straight thought them is awful, o an unexpected by stander, loss of breath, cold wave all down their body, and a sense of emptiness, as they watched these spirits float their way back down to earth in amazement, Latine thinks that this is an experience that she is going to remember for a long time to come.

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