Moonrise - Act 2

A series played using Anamnesis. This post is published under the CC-BY-SA-4.0 licence.

Shadow: The Moon (Anxiety, Illusion, Intuition) 

ACT 2: SWORDS

SCENE 1: TWO OF SWORDS

The features of the cavern had either been examined or were items that I'd rather leave alone for the time being, so I decided to venture outside to see if anything else was familiar. I carefully walked up the narrow path as it wound its way up to the top of the cliff. The wind whipped past and tugged at my shroud as if urging me forward, upward. I cast a glance down and saw the waves crashing against sharp rocks some way beneath me. I decided against looking down again and instead concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until I was at the end of the path.

Here I was confronted with a scene of vandalism. A great iron pedestal stood close to the cliff edge, a pair of feet and ankles emerging from its top. At the base lay the rest of the statue that had the once stood here. The salt air had not been kind to the statue's features, but their crown was still recognisable atop their head. It bore an uncomfortable resemblance to the one I'd left in the cavern below, and as I considered the fallen statue I came to understand that the weather-worn features were once my own. I sat at the base of the pedestal and stared at my fallen image, deep within my mind I knew the statue had been erected to survey the landscape; a representation of me surveying my kingdom. Looking further inland, I saw a land slope downward towards what appeared to be city in the distance. By this point the sun was beginning to hang low in the sky, so I rose to my feet and set out towards my city.

SCENE 2: PAGE OF SWORDS

I reached the walls of the city shortly before dusk and through broad sections that had been reduced to rubble I saw the ruins of vast buildings. I picked my way across the ruins and gazed upon the desolation of what I assumed must have been my once-proud city. A open area stood a short distance from the wall and upon closer inspection appeared to be an overgrown park. The ruined buildings around me felt stifling, they pressed against me with the weight in both stone and significance, so I sought respite in the park. Among the verdant growth, lines of worn stone hinted at pathways and borders lost to nature. Perhaps these were landscaped gardens once.

I absent-mindedly followed a series of weather-beaten mounds that I suspected may have once delineated a winding path. As the light rapidly faded, replaced by the collected light of a crowded starscape, it occurred to me that I was following the path by memory. My senses were haunted by faint echoes of the aroma of exotic flowers. Where my eyes saw dense foliage either side of me, my mind's eye saw elegantly sculpted topiaries resembling mythical beasts. I felt a hand in mine and an air of tension looming; I knew that this seemingly romantic walk was destined to end in heartbreak for at least one of the two parties. With this in mind my steps slowed, both in the memory and now, as I tried to delay the walk's outcome as long as I could stand to.

SCENE 3: NINE OF SWORDS

I left the winding paths of the park onto a long boulevard which eventually took me under a crumbling arch and out of the park. The buildings that lined my way were somewhat more intact; tall, sleek structures with the remnants of geometric patterning and faded colours that must have been vibrant in their heyday. I suspected that each must have once been a monument in its own right, testaments to the might of my city. I wondered how far their reach had extended at the height of their power, and that in turn brought the dawning realisation that I knew so little about the wider world. I stopped in my tracks at this thought and gazed about me. My eyes were drawn to a curious sculpture which stood in front of a nearby building, a pair of stylised figures posed in heated debate. I wondered what was the source of their conflict, why it had be chosen to be immortalised in stone, and why it was placed here.

I reached out to touch the sculpture but withdrew my hand in shock as soon as it touched the cool stone. In my mind I flashed back to the outcome of that walk in the curated gardens. The path between the topiary had led us to a small clearing with a low stone bench, the edges carved with flowers. Here we had sat in awkward silence, each unwilling to break the tranquility of the garden with our words. Eventually entropy won, as it always does, and we had quarreled. I began by trying to politely, respectfully, disengage myself from our series of trysts, claiming that the need for an appearance of integrity must be placed above our own needs. I was lying; I had been here before and had this conversation with others, my words were obviously rehearsed. They were seen through, how could they not be, and not only was my own honour challenged but that of my dynasty. I recoiled in shock at the anger I was being presented with, stood shakily, and crossed to the edge of the clearing. It wasn't meant to be like this, it was never like this. As I returned to myself I saw that my still outstretched hand was trembling.