[P] The Praise of Thunder

[Eik]

They both stare at the storm, thinking their separate thoughts. What, he wonders, hasn't the storm wiped clean from him? What makes up the core of a man, what outlasts time itself? He has an answer but not the words for it, so he holds his tongue.

And then she begins her story. In truth, Eik had not expected her to oblige him. He had expected a scoff and maybe a single word- a name. But in just a few words ("there's a world hiding...") she has him under a spell. He drinks up not just her words but the way she says them, the powerful, calm alto of her voice. It reminds him a bit of the way the gods sound, or at least the few he's met.

" The only thing she bore were scars, lighting and a lion that lay ever waiting in her bones "

He shivers, and finally his eyes close. Her words paint pictures more vivid that vision itself. He smells the fire and he sees the wound opening on the girl's shoulder. He sees the blood that drips on the dirt floor and the way it glistens on Calliope's horn. The only thing, really, that he cannot see are her eyes.

She closes the distance and he flinches at her touch. Not in fear, no, just surprise. He is not so jumpy as he was when he first came here, but physical contact continues to catch him off guard. Of course, he quickly finds he enjoys having her lips on his shoulder- how could he not? He leans into her slightly as the storm thickens around them. When she says her name, the thunder rumbles its approval (-- or was that a trick of his wild imagination?) and the wind howls in hunger for more of her words (, and this he knows is true). Each new gust a syllable, cal- each more fervent than the last, -li- her name whips them in loving fury - ope! which fades to a jittery hush as she quiets and taps a demand into his neck.

It takes a moment for him to catch his breath.

In the quiet that follows, his weak heart thunders in his chest, in his ears, beating itself almost to the point of bursting. He reaches into himself in search of words and comes back empty-handed time and time again, empty except for inky blue-black soot-- not enough to build a story out of.

Not enough for anything.

Finally he lets himself remember all the things he ever chose to forget. Finally the words rise, murky and simple but his all the same, and he holds each one close before releasing them, tentatively, to the woman with a lion waiting in her bones.

"Beneath the great tree at the top of the world," as Eik begins he doesn't realize his eyes are closed until lightning flashes and paints his vision red and white. The thunder snarls soon after. (or is that the stomp of a hoof in the ground, the restless demand of Calliope?) Her touch reminds him of home, of the long and cold winters spent huddled together. How pathetic it would have seemed to the people of Novus, sprawled on their feather beds, tucked away behind stone walls. How he misses it now.  He continues boldly, blood still fire-hot beneath the cold touch of the unicorn's horn. "The most beautiful tree among gods and men, a valkyrie gave birth to a child. They named him Eik, after the tree where he was born. He grew as all boys grew there- angry and violent. Just as their fathers, and their fathers before them. It was a matter of survival."

The rain starts to fall in fat drops. Like the panting of a beast, the wind comes and goes in great big gusts that hurl the rain sideways.

(somewhere a snake eats its tail)
 
"But he was not like all boys that grew there. He dreamed, and he heard voices, and worst of all he strayed, each time farther and farther. He saw things no mortal was meant to see. And one day when he returned, his world was on fire--" He shakes his head, forgetting the horn at his crest even when it pricks him, even when a thin line of blood slowly crawls down his neck. The memories have seized him- even the storm closing in on them feels a world away. "No, it was mostly burned at that point. Perhaps it was started by a child who forgot the meaning of the mark on her shoulder." He opens his eyes, looks into Calliope's with so many questions and so little fear.

"But I always thought it was the gods." He always knew it was them, in that way you know without knowing. And if it wasn't, well, they certainly didn't do anything to stop the inferno. "And although I was always called Eik, it was not my true name until after that fire." His heart flutters again as it remembers the smell and the sight and the sound of it- how loud a wildfire is! But most of all he remembers the smell. It comes back again and again in his dreams and nightmares.

Eik has spoken enough of himself for one day. He wonders if all men open to this like Calliope, as easy as closing your eyes. She could not know how rare it is for the grey to speak so many words. "Would you hold the gods accountable, if it was they and not the child who burned the forest?" He must speak louder now, above the storm that shakes the ground. Seeking shelter has not occurred to him in his intoxication-- although he already senses their paths diverging. Too soon. He wants to cling to her, stay with her. There are so many questions she might answer.

The wind picks up once more, screeching her name like a war chant- cal--li--ope!

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

@Calliope