"Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls."
- - -
He can smell the ocean on him and it stirs that ache in his legs, that tickle at the back of his head. He thinks of the sea, endless and restless, and all the mystery beneath it. How it feels like his own mind when he stands perfectly still, eyes closed, feeling the blood pulsing like waves through his body. He yearns for something but is not sure what it is. He cannot find it in the walls of the day court, much as he's tried. Their patterns intrigue and baffle him-- he's come to believe with certainty they are no natural thing, and thus their secrets are of no use to him. They will not help him to lift the veil, to see reality as it really is.
He wanders as he thinks, an old and sometimes dangerous habit-- though it is less thinking and more brooding. It is a rather gloomy state of mind, inevitably leading to the darkest parts of himself, but there is an allure to it. He is the type to wade further and further into the ocean, insistent on discovering just how deep it is.
As he looks up he is surprised to find himself nearing the mountain he can see from his new home. He isn't sure what its name is, if it has one, or why everyone is drawn there. Their attraction to it is what has kept him away until now. As he ponders it, a young mare comes in to view-- she is the color of a particular desert sunrise, the time before the sun shows itself, when a band of warmth sits on the horizon and the sky above it has just opened its blue eyes. Before the sky is blown to hell with brilliant colors. He stares, still unaccustomed to the flamboyant colors and accessories of this place, looking away only when she catches him, breaking his enchantment.
He remembers the ache he found in himself and breathes in deeply.
"Gud Evening, miss." His voice is river pebble smooth; it is his fathers voice, and his father before him. He speaks with a slight accent, a clipping of certain letters and a different inflection. It is different but not unpleasant. "You will go up there?" He asks, skeptical. It is clear from his voice that he has no clue what the appeal is.
He looks to her, then to the peak above them. The way seems well maintained and certainly well used, but she frankly seems so delicate he fears she'll break herself on the rocks. Perhaps he is confusing her coloring, the colors that last for a brief moment during a very particular sunrise, for her disposition. He is complex in many ways, yet almost childishly simple in others. "It will benight soon enough. Let me accompany you."
He does not consider that she has her reasons for being here, alone, at this time, in the place she clearly knows better than him. It also does not occur to him that it is he she would be afraid of. He, the scar-speckled stranger who was oogling her just a few minutes ago. He simply sees a young woman, alone, with nightfall approaching. Like I said, childishly simple.
It has been months since Tirzah was last awed by this peak and yet she realizes upon her return that it has lost none of its appeal, its resplendence, the scattered magic that blows like autumn leaves through the cool air of the dusk around her. In her colors of sun and ocean she moves wraith-like toward the mountain and gazes up at it with a fanatic warmth. Piercing blue eyes shine with wild abandon in the darkness. So entranced by the sight of the monument is she that Tirzah hardly notices the form of another even as she passes him, a creature of silver hair and strange skin so deep inside her own head that she does not hear his breathing, his steps, does not notice his scent on the wind, the way her stares after her as if she is ethereal.
It is the kind of stare that has followed Tirzah since the moment she was born; it stopped affecting her years ago.
Her hooves cut half-circles into the soft dirt, her long hair rustles the grass underneath her. The air is going dark and rumbles with the hum of insects, the sound of a gentle wind, and stars flickering, sputtering years away in the sky, only just starting to show. When the man’s voice sounds Tirzah stops, but does not startle: her body curls into a halt with avian grace, azure ears flickering, head shifting to look over her shoulder at the figure. Slightly shorter than she and littered with scars, shorter hair than her and dappled at the curves; Tirzah looks him over with gentle curiosity, her eyes wide and feline.
When he speaks it is smooth and cool, water rushing over stones. Tirzah breaks into an unselfconscious smile.
Up there is exactly where I’m going, she answers serenely, those thick lashes batting, a look of genuine interest lining each corner of her face. Though Tirzah is delicate, soft, even, she is well-versed when it comes to this land and smart in her own way, and surely she knows more than this stranger, though she does not mention it, too polite to point out her expertise. It will be night indeed, comes that dreamy voice again, accompanied by a vacant, buttery smile, and we must thank Caligo for that, for performing her duties so perfectly, let her be blessed.
With that she turns back toward the mountain, gazes upward reverently, the barest hint of a smile still crossing her lips. I know my way up, Tirzah points out gently, placing her first step on the path. But you are welcome to accompany me, stranger.
"Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls."
- - -
Eik does not know if he has ever seen anyone so unaware of their surroundings. It is slightly shocking, but the thought strikes him that it was only a few minutes ago he found himself suddenly at the base of the mountain, his legs carrying him while he was lost in thought. He is confident that he would have been stirred from his reveries if a stranger had been nearby, but he wonders... A small, private smile slowly curls at his lips.
She speaks, and her voice is just as he imagined it to be. He hesitates, her calm confidence unexpected, then nods his head once, firmly. Even he is not sure if his being there for her safety is a pretense or not. (How good it is to be alone, but how lonely.) But he has nothing else to do, and he does not doubt the genuinity he hears in her invitation.
"I am Eik." He falls in step beside her, slowing to let her go first in the places where the trail thins. Eik is a man of movement, it soothes his mind and slows his thoughts. Whatever indecision he had while standing at the foot of the mountain, it eases away- much as the day does now.
He is quiet for some time, mind split between focusing on the climb, the company, and some faraway thoughts that don't quite have words yet. "Why do you do this?" He finally asks. A creature like him would climb this mountain for the hell of it, to soothe the itch of wanderlust, or even just to feel the cold again
(the cold, his old friend-- the thought excites him and he wonders again why he chose to live in the desert)
It should be impossible to ignore the man at her side, yet Tirzah’s attention still wavers from him within seconds, to the clouds that simmer above her head, the winking of stars starting to show in the deepest recesses of the sky, still smoking orange and purple in places. A low-pitched hum bubbles from her throat, a tune that’s most likely unrecognizable to a Solterran like him, and to the tune of it, absent-mindedly, Tirzah’s hips sway side to side, her narrow frame listing in the ghost of a dance, which she executes without ever moving her hooves from the ground, so that he won’t think she’s attempting to break away.
Tirzah, she introduces quickly, and then, with a mischievous smile thrown over her shoulder, leaps up the path. Erik’s presence just behind her is something of a comfort; the night is already warm around them, yet Tirzah has always loved the body heat of other beings, the feel of a heartbeat just next to her, or the sound of footsteps only slightly mismatched from her own. In complacent silence they wind their way toward the peak, Tirzah’s hair collecting petals and leaves that the soft wind brings her. It’s good to stretch her limbs. Too long has she been pent up in the confines of Terrastella: by her own volition, sure, but then Tirzah’s choices have never been permanent, and though yesterday she was still lounging in the Dusk Court soaking up the scents of her childhood, today the itch in her muscles is irrepressible.
Scattering rocks and twigs as she hauls her lithe frame up the slope, Tirzah moves with confidence onwards and upwards, ears flickering backward to catch the man’s words. To worship, she answers, loud enough that it will float back to him. Blinking against the flare of the sun, she continues, half-speaking and half-humming, Have you not heard of this place? Where the gods touch the world - a shiver races up Tirzah’s spine, lights those wild eyes with fervor. The holiest land one’s feet can touch.
She moves with a grace so different from his own, so much lighter and sweeter. It comes from within, it is something she was born with. A blessing, if he's ever seen one. His grace has been hammered into him, shaped by pain and triumph. Not a gift but a prize hard-won. Yet here they are, their different stories suddenly intertwined like the wind in the trees.
As she leaps away he hesitates a moment, taken aback by the mischief in her smile. And then he springs after her, delighting in the movement of the body and the quiet companionship of the pretty mare. Tirzah. Sometimes he needs to spend some time with a person before their name grows on them, but this is not the case with her. Her name fits her perfectly. He thinks his name fits him, perhaps only because he has grown over the years to fit his name. The thought of being named Sunshine or Joy brings a small smile to his face. Perhaps life would have been easier.
As they vault upwards he focuses on the strength and coordination of his body, step by step. The tune she hums somehow seems to slow time and narrow his focus on being. For some reason it brings a sad calmness to his heart. Music is a dangerous thing-- it has always moved him more than reason dictates it should.
"I have not."" He says, unbothered by his ignorance (sometimes it stings him-- recently he has become accustomed to it) and focused more on the light that flares behind her words. Like a rising fire. As they ascend he senses the fire rising. He imagines her face is something to behold. "Where I am from, the gods were everywhere." His heart starts to race before the words finish leaving his lips. They tug at a wound he had hoped was healed, but there it is, threatening to split open again. He has not thought of that place and its gods in years.
(everywhere, and then nowhere. where were they that night, why did they leave? Or were they never really there to begin with?)
He is glad she is before him, and does not see the expressions that cross his face. With force he turns his thoughts to these lands. (home) He thinks of the courts, of the land so neatly divided in four. Of the differences that people find within themselves. He thinks perhaps it is more often that they choose their differences, choose what makes them better or worse than others. "Do you worship them all?"
And then, before she has the chance to answer his first question, "Are you afraid of them?"
![[Image: exotic_by_kms1002_da21gp9_by_arrakis93-dbevmnk.png]](https://img11.deviantart.net/8ea3/i/2017/183/1/b/exotic_by_kms1002_da21gp9_by_arrakis93-dbevmnk.png)
