[EXP] our endless numbered days;

[Asterion]

Asterion in sunshine and in shadow* He is caught by the way her scales shimmer and reflect in the sunlight that slants through the budding trees as she nears him. Asterion is still trying to place what she reminds him of: something of the sea, he thinks, something strange and lovely washed up on the sand beneath a full moon. They are foolish thoughts, dreamer’s thoughts, and he cannot shake them even as they speak of danger. It is too new, this world and this stranger, both of them at once delicate in their beauty (moss draped like gossamer across spreading branches, the continuous humming of insects and warble of birdsong, her high cheekbones and the hint of a star) and yet unnerving. Like there is something darker, stronger, stranger. As he is with most beautiful, dangerous things, Asterion is enchanted. “I can understand that,” he says, when she speaks of beauty. “It seems a subtle thing.” He does not add that he would like to stay, that there are too many demands tugging at him. The way she speaks of the dangers does nothing more to deter him; instead his interest sharpens on her, watching those eyes bright as dragonflies as she turns again to the structure. “I have not heard those myths or legends.” He might have added more – might have asked her to share one – but as she speaks of the swamp reclaiming the hut, he steps alongside her, turning his attention instead to the weathered boards. Surely she is right – already vines are winding along the railing, climbing up the walls. They are thick and green and do not look like they could be easily convinced to relinquish their grip. “Maybe it will become a legend then, too,” he says, and his sigh is almost wistful. “I’m glad I’ve seen it before it’s gone.” At her question he tilts his head, considering, and there is something a little sad in the faraway look in his eyes. “I suppose they have,” he agrees, “but it seems I’m never satisfied.” Oh, he has become greedy of wonders, in his brief time – maybe it is for the best that now he is more anchored. When he turns his gaze back to her, it is clearer, brighter. Asterion would far prefer to explore the entire world before considering himself. “You, though – you grew up here? You must know all of its secrets.” @Rhea