He knows better than to judge a man by his scars. He knows that each has a story, carved into skin like braille. Eik knows because he himself is a book that has never been read.
(a book that keeps writing itself in a sprawl of run-on sentences and parentheses and repetition-- repetition-- repetition!-- a broken record still plays to a beat, and where there is rhythm there is pattern there is meaning)
Solterra seems a beacon for those with crooked and broken pasts. They hope that they will be made pure beneath the light of Solis, like sun-bleached bones. They think the heat will sweat out all the bad in them, and one day they will rise purified by the blaze of the desert sun.
These lofty dreams are never realized, of course-- but Solterra is not without gifts. Eik is not quite sure if he's found his yet, but he feels it somewhere out there, beating like the slow heartbeat of a massive beast beneath the sand. Without thinking he prods with his mind at the desert the same way you would stroke a healing wound to feel the scab and the fresh skin beneath. There is an uncanny feeling of being prodded in return.
"What is it you would remake yourself into." He looks at the desert sprawling before them, eyes following the snaking curves of the Mors. "And why here?"
- - - - -
I am keeping quiet
E I K
But one day, the forest will talk about me
(a book that keeps writing itself in a sprawl of run-on sentences and parentheses and repetition-- repetition-- repetition!-- a broken record still plays to a beat, and where there is rhythm there is pattern there is meaning)
Solterra seems a beacon for those with crooked and broken pasts. They hope that they will be made pure beneath the light of Solis, like sun-bleached bones. They think the heat will sweat out all the bad in them, and one day they will rise purified by the blaze of the desert sun.
These lofty dreams are never realized, of course-- but Solterra is not without gifts. Eik is not quite sure if he's found his yet, but he feels it somewhere out there, beating like the slow heartbeat of a massive beast beneath the sand. Without thinking he prods with his mind at the desert the same way you would stroke a healing wound to feel the scab and the fresh skin beneath. There is an uncanny feeling of being prodded in return.
"What is it you would remake yourself into." He looks at the desert sprawling before them, eyes following the snaking curves of the Mors. "And why here?"
- - - - -
I am keeping quiet
E I K
But one day, the forest will talk about me
@Phrixus <3
Time makes fools of us all
