"lacuna sounds like flowey; therfoar lacuna is a flowey" -Ivgliss, Google Hangouts, Saturday 27th, 2018, 5:04 pm aLL mUst hoNOr the bEAuTiFulnEss SEE COMMENTS FOR INSTRUCTIONS! |❀| BIO |❀| Name: Lacuna Name Meaning: A blank part; a missing space. Gender: Female Species: Cat Personality: Lacuna is reserved and quiet, however with an inner longing for adventure. She is guided by her emotions upon a mist-shrouded path, following nothing but her heart's desire. Backstory: It was the only world to her. It was all she had known, too- the walls of the castle, old and aged with years of dust gathered unswept and uncared for; the billowing violet curtains and drapes that had long lost its once-bold colors; the floors that creaked, eternally cold to the touch; and the silence that echoed, resonated, for long as anyone could remember. That, was Lacuna’s everything. And him- the Master. She knew him by that name, and that name only. The Master and his cloak, and the pale wisteria arbor aside the castle, its vibrant flowers that bloomed when spring was at its height. The only colors there were. It was everyday that Lacuna saw the Master tend over the cloak like nothing else. Its hue had never been different, a dark, dark violet and vine-like pale green that contracted against the solemnity of all else- like new leaves against a world of greyscale, flower against winter. She knew it as the memory- a memory of a life that was no longer. A fracture of an emotion so deep she could not tell if it would ever be comprehensible to her. Was it grief, or was it love? Was it regret, or was it hope? A sillage, he said. A sillage, she knew- the wake that lingers where one had been but is no more. And yet she yearned for the world outside. Past the arbor- beautiful though it was, it still leans against the castle, overgrown and wild. Wild- as wild as it could be, when gates twined around all sides, blocking everything from view except the tip of a tranquil yet magnificent sunset, every evening. The gold of the dusk. The cream of the gloaming. The mauve of the evenfall. The indigo of the twilight. You’d see her there, a sable silhouette against a world of dancing colors. She couldn’t leave. The end was coming- and Lacuna felt it, stronger than ever. Time had passed. Seven days make week. Four weeks make month. Twelve months make year. And the years that had passed here by the lonely of soul, makes eternity. Eternity doesn’t last forever. He grew frailer by the day, and Lacuna stood by him. More time was spent in rest than activity, and as the wisteria grew unkempt and seemed truly deserted, Lacuna realized that she, now have to keep the violet blossoms well. To trim and build upon the past, to keep it the same, to preserve. And so she did, brushing off old leaves and snipping away flowers that were take by disease. Sometimes the Master spent what energy that had managed to live and helped her care for the plants. Such wistfulness was in his gaze at those times, such that Lacuna found herself staring into its depths, until dusk fell and she found both of them enwrapped in a world of violet and gold and scarlet. Times like those, were rare. More often Lacuna would find herself alone, left to awe at the wonders that laid beyond the horizon. There would be a blank feeling inside her. One of those days, came the Wanderer. The Wanderer passed the castle, passed its forever locked gates, passed her. Yet an unquenchable curiosity took over and Lacuna called out- who are you? Where do you come from? What do you seek? The Wanderer replied. He talked of the world outside. The world that Lacuna never got to know, the world Lacuna saw only through the sunsets and the stars. He talked of misadventure and fate, he talked of the sea, he talked of the mountains and the moors. He talked about all that captured her soul. She felt a fire- a spark that roared into life, said the Wanderer- take flight. Did fire light the sky? Is that how the dusk got its glory? She had asked once. She wanted to find out for herself. As days grew shorter and nights longer, the last of the wisteria had fallen from its branch. The evading darkness seemed to have taken over the castle- inside, nearly all light ceased. Autumn, Lacuna knew. Autumn was approaching. When the world was enwrapped in gold the Wanderer said he was to leave once more, to travel to places no cat had ever been. Lacuna wanted, more than anything, to venture with him. But what of the Master? She closed her eyes, pain gripping her soul. Yet her mind was made. For one day she would be out- and at dusk she would return to check upon the castle. To get a grasp of what the world felt like. She felt the fire burning intensely inside her as the final night passed before auburn lined her ally’s pelt. The Master was awake when Lacuna found him alone, the cloak held still in his hands. Slight shock tinged her fur. She haven’t found the Master up from bed for so long now, but there he was, murmuring with a so-
ft incomprehensibility from time to time. There was an odd atmosphere in the room- lament clung heavier than ever in the air. Yet there was something else. The feeling had been hidden by the dust until this day, and that moment, Lacuna felt clarity. Without looking behind her, she passed the halls in swift strides and found herself gazing, for perhaps one of the last times, at the wisteria arbor. A shriveled black was all that was there. Leaves littered the soil, and like placid chimes they sang when breeze rushed by. What was that, concealed beneath a tangle of petals? Faint wind rustled behind, revealing a shade of pale, pale violet. A bud- yet how was that possible? Wisteria season had passed when summer came. Was it an omen?- The Wanderer’s arrival broke Lacuna’s thoughts. A smile, no longer suppressed, rose along her muzzle. With a glance they crossed the field and snaked through the gate. For the first time, Lacuna saw the world for what it was- a never-ending realm of colors and creatures and voices never imagined. She had found where her heart belonged. The entire day was spent in laughter and joy and mischief, every moment as itself. The world that she saw, was a meadow of endless gold. Lacuna could only dream that this, was eternity. She saw something on the horizon. Lavender against the blue of the sky. The gale sent it near Lacuna, and as she made out the outline of a fluttering cloak, her gaze became absolutely still. Slowly, weighed down by gravity, the fabric landed in the distance. Behind it the sun was setting, swooping close to the line where ground met sky. The Master, would never let the cloak fall. Realization dawned upon her once more, and silence folded all around. She had never expected the day to be near- yet it was. For as long as Lacuna could remember, he was always there. It was the two of them and the castle- her world. With a sudden jolt she lunged back, a thudding in her skull echoed strangely, as if what she was seeing, doing, wasn’t real. Faster than the wind she leapt across the path she came from, fear brushing through her fur and clouding her mind, the world around her a blur. At last she stopped before the gates, her paws upon the very ground she wished to run away from. Yet it was love that was binding her. The Master would do anything to keep the cloak safe, and when she entered his room, she found him under the sunset. His breathing was slow at times, yet rapid at others, and he held his hand out to the drowning sun, as if to let it rest between his fingers. The light slipped past, gliding down until the sky stained violet once again. And the Master fell, eternity no more. For days upon days Lacuna guarded over the castle, over the Master’s last wish, over the cloak that she had retrieved. The Wanderer found himself unable to leave- his heart was with hers. And so, dusks passed with the desolate regret, hope, grief, and love. It was all of those, Lacuna now felt with her entire soul, that brought the silence to the halls, solitude to the nights spent alone. Then, came the most gorgeous, beautiful sunset Lacuna had yet seen. Swirls and dapples of golden-tipped clouds took flight between a crimson sky, blue chasing russet and russet chasing cream. As the tip of the sun sunk beyond her vision, the stars came. Stars, aflame, sped through the sky, its pale ultramarine haze splitting the darkness of the twilight. Like messages of newfound faith they raced through Lacuna’s heart as much as the empyrean nightfall, and as if truly seeing for the first time, she felt peace settle within her. And so Lacuna set out, to seek a world of her own. She brought nothing with her- nothing but a cloak to remind her of her past. Remind her of what pain felt like, what conflict was, what it meant to truly grieve. Still more, to remind her of what love symbolizes. As for the wisteria, she left them to grow in whichever direction they seek, to fend for themselves and to find their place in the world- to truly be wild. And to pursue their dreams, follow their heart to wherever it leads. The cloak- to her now the violet was the wisteria celebration of new beginnings, and the green be branches of life, supporting the weight that deemed its being beautiful. A new beginning.
