Out in the open, on top of the world with Vadim, he was able to remember in that detached way. Remember in that easy way, when you separate thoughts from feelings as simply as plucking the frosting off the top of a cupcake. But here, surrounded by stone walls and candle smoke and the smell of her something like a slow leak in his air mattress (what), all of it in symphony with the relentless beat of his heart, the fear of hope, all of it swelling like a tidal wave, broken strings, mania, all of it in rising in a sweet and terrifying crescendo.
Are you okay, Eik?
Her voice rings like a gentle bell, and the orchestra quiets, curling at her feet like an old dog. As though all you had to do was ask it nicely. When he slows his racing heart, gets his face under control, shoves his feelings deep down, he finally speaks: "I- I don't like to remember, sometimes."
That is it, and he forces his attention elsewhere, unnerved but trying to ignore it- for everyone knows that is the best solution to the things that ail you.
And what a fantastic distraction lies before him in those dark, mysterious symbols. Sometimes when the wind blows and the trees hunch over, it seems like they're trying to say something. He wonders if reading is like talking to trees. It is hard for him to imagine looking at the writings and learning them the way one would learn to speak.
She asks of his homeland, if they have writings like these. "Nothing like this at all. No walls either. Just voices and bodies." The panic is gone from for now, leaving behind something like melancholy as he thinks of the herd, of sharing stories and warmth beneath the cold moonlight. Life had seemed so complicated then. The thoughts of himself as a child bring a fleeting smile to his face. He feels a hundred years old.
She speaks of Zolin. The name alone seems cold and menacing, and Eik thinks he would not like the man-- he sounds like a coward. However, he is not one to go spouting off his opinions so he simply nods, storing each of her words in his memory. An idea has planted itself in his mind, and the more he learns of the writings in this room, the more it grows.
He decides that he will learn to read. Not now, probably not for a while, but some day. How odd it is for him to have that some day dangled before him. Where the future was once just some endless dull shade of grey, shadowy forms begin to take shape. He wonders again where his path will lead, and begins to feel the tickle of a feeling that he is in control of his life. For a man who's always let his feet guide him, this is a new sensation. It will take him some time to decide if he likes it or not.
But what he really wants is to write.
Promise slowly unfolds, the tease. He thinks this night will be one of those you remember for a while. It makes him wonder what Seraphina's memories are like, what details stand out to her, or if she remembers not in details but broad brushstrokes of color and feeling. And feeling? What depth of feeling lies behind that placid surface?
You don't need to apologize for asking questions, she says, and while there is no warmth from the statement he is surprised that he hasn't annoyed her with all his questions. He nods firmly in response, thinking briefly of Tirzah and Rhoswen as he realizes he is always apologizing to women. It isn't the questions he's apologizing for but everything, all of it.
Eik tends to look at others in that faraway way, that kind of looking without seeing. Looking can be powerful, he's never understood how most everyone can do it so casually. It takes a certain amount of focus but our special snowflake really looks at her now, in the seeing way. We won't dive into the depths of what he sees, none of us has time for that. You really could spend a millennia reflecting on any single instant in time, diving into it, decomposing it. Sometimes this knowledge is crippling, today it is empowering. Today it makes each word more important to him, knowing that there are infinitely many words to fill its place. So when his surprised thoughts form the words she can't be half my age, it seems somehow more insightful than if he had realized it yesterday.
"I don't want to keep you from your vocation for too long." It is unlikely he will ever stop using that word. He is incredibly childlike, in some ways. In many others, he's an old bat. He hesitates, searching for the right words to follow. "If you ever need me, for anything... I'm here for you. Please." Burning one.
Only trust the story.
- E I K
@Seraphina no worries <3 I'm going to have him leave next post because at this rate we really will literally write a book together lol. And I'd love to have them thread together soon! Maybe after she's named sovereign? I didn't want to time bend in this post because its long enough already -_-
