[P] Man sieht nur das, was man weiß [Eik]

[Turhan]

“ bone to rune ”

The land, she breathes beneath his feet.  The wind soughing in his ears tell him something, something ..


But It (She), the universe (o' Vespera), always tells Her song in the way the wind bends and pitches.  She tells the Elder, in her own way, Her secrets of the universe; Of Life and of Death, and to the prayers he carries to Her, for Her.  So that they - together - can answer them.


And He (Turhan), the Elder (a Golden One), is always listening.  


Sometimes she is so Mighty and Great that he cannot hear anything but her.  Sometimes, sometimes,  he can feel her deep within him.  Resonating like the stars She creates.  From the tips of his ears to the softest, most vulnerable hearts of his hooves - she feels like lightning inside of his soul if souls could feel such a corporeal thing.  O' Vespera is penetrating and fear-filling with her voice alone, when she makes a mule out of Turhan she becomes a violent and fearsome thing.  


"Prayers," croaks the Elder's voice but it is not Turhan who answers Eik. 


"So I, may answer them." He says in so many words.  The old horse doesn't move to look at him - why?  Eik's presence beside him won't make any difference whether the stranger can be seen or not.  The timbre of his voice will never bend or sway a thing like Turhan, he does not hear him.  


Something else though .. something else hears him.


A rare breeze wraps the two horses in a balmy, comfortable heat.  It is enough to take the chill off the new waves coming in.   It ruffles all the feathers, ribbons, and witches' bones, it shakes at all the bells that tinkle and jingle against his deep bloody bay skin which ward off evil should it be near.  


She must be coming. 
She must be here. 
She is here.


All the manners of Ilati hair flutter lively like snakes in a pulling breeze in their chain braids.  Most of them loosely attached to his own thick black hair begin to blow away in the wind when Vespera comes to 'listen'.  Each one woven with intention - with a prayer inside sealed with hate, with hope - hope that it Vespera will take it and hear their voices, all of them.  


Brown ones, black ones, white ones, red, silver, yellow, and gray ones -- most of them untangle and blow away.  Strands and strands of them scatter when the warm breeze huffs hard and makes all the holes in Turhan's mask whistle hauntingly somewhere behind them. Turhan cannot hear it -- he is tuned into something else entirely.  


"There are, too many."  His words are not his own.  His truth is real -- How real?  ..  Real enough.  His voice is soft but secure, tired but energetic, simple but too powerful for what it all really means.


"Have you come to pray?  I will listen."  

T U R H A N
skull to dust

@Eik   My heart beats with joy again.  You and Eik really make a difference in my stay here at Novus.  Thank you for being here! Have some of my weirdest writing yet! <3