[AW] áldott herceg;

[Eik]

Eik is greedy too, in his own way. He has no lust for glory or power or material goods- if anything he has an aversion to these things. But silence, open space, the smell of rain- there are moments when the curtain of reality billows and he glimpses what is on the other side,, moments when the beauty and synchronicity of the world are so astounding that he can do nothing but stand there in awed silence and hope that it lasts, this time, the warmth in his chest resounding like the first crack of the frozen river each spring. This is what he is greedy for- this sudden, half-mad sense of grace. The thing is, it never lasts. The breeze settles and the filth of the world comes back in focus and his scars, silver and black, burn white-hot with the ache and anger of his loss.

He does not speak of the secret desires of his heart, because if the gods are real they certainly are not on his side. At this thought he realizes perhaps they are the reason he has not yet found the ancient one... he shakes his head, forgetting his company until the other man speaks once more.

"A Szellem..." He repeats the word softly. And then smiles an odd, brief smile before continuing. "Well she isn't mine and I hope she is no ghost." The other man's attention drifts to the shadows growing long around them, and Eik studies him acutely, wonders what lies before him- and behind.

"Miskolc," he again repeats the foreign word- his tongue has always enjoyed speaking new words. "Prince of Miskolc..." If there is something laughing in his voice at that word, prince, something mocking even, it is not clear why. "Welcome to Novus. Are you staying with the Dawn Court, then?" That is, after all, whose forest they stand in. Eik wonders briefly if Ipomoea is here somewhere too, picking flowers or something. The thought brings a small smile to his face.

(Well we can't all be masochists)

The flow of the conversation leads back to him. He wonders, briefly, what it matters.

"I'm just-"

Running from my past, is what was about to spill forth. It is one of those truths that you don't recognize as truth until it blurts out of you. He pauses for a moment, a private, puzzled look on his face, before tucking the thought away for later. He backs up, to the beginning. He supposes he owes the man that much. As uncomfortable as it may make him.

"I come from a place with no name." They had not bothered to name the land, it was simply Home. Heima. It was all most of them ever knew. The few who left, never came back. And foreigners were not heard of. "I left when everyone else died... Not much else to say." His tongue heavy, he sways his head in a shrug-like gesture. The man can ask as many questions as he wants, demand them even.

Or at least try to.

Ah, but there was a third question wasn't there... At the thought of his purpose, Eik almost laughs. To not go insane, that's all he wanted here. But Solterra wrapped its dusty hands around his neck. It is everywhere now, the sand and sun. When he closes his eyes he sees red dunes where he once saw fire. One burden, traded for another.

(This grand show is eternal whispers the universe in his ear, half-laughing.)

"My purpose is survival. And... politics now. I am the emissary of Solterra." Eik's voice is smooth and steady, but he looks away sheepishly. He is still not used to the ways of this world, the hierarchy, the power of words and titles. He hated the endless war of his homeland, but at least it was familiar. "But most just know me as Eik."

-     -     -
There is no better way to know us
E I K
than as two wolves, come separately to a wood

@Káin sorry for the wait! Laptop issues + 50 hour work weeks, not very conducive to writing