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Her words ring true.
"I guess finding out is up to you."
Still, he does not want to find out.
It isn't that he doesn't believe truth can be found in the strange-smelling tent, and it isn't that he couldn't use a little guidance. It's just... there is something, something rebellious or angry or whatever you wish to call it, something that hides beneath his easygoing demeanor, and it itches to think there is such thing as divine counsel. It would mean there is such thing as a right choice. It would justify his cloying fear that every choice he makes is the wrong one.
Anyway, in his mind it seems that prophecy is just another face of the gods, and if there's one thing he is sure of it is that you cannot trust a god. But she kisses his cheek and he puts aside his unanswerable questions. Even he tires of brooding sometimes.
What did he see? "In one room of the court, fish swam through air like water. You can walk across the floor of the lake now, and on the hilltop there was a tree with leaves of glass that sang when the wind blew through..." This last one was a personal gesture, a sight he felt was for him and him alone, and he trails off as the heat rises in his voice. He wonders if he will always ache at the thought of Isra.
"Where are you headed next?" He shouldn't feel like he needs to protect the girl with the hurlbat and the gunpowder eyes, but her parents are nowhere in sight and the night grows wilder and wilder around them and he just can't help himself.
"A thousand dreams within me softly burn. From time to time
my heart is like some oak whose blood runs golden where a branch is torn."
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art by Pherigo
goodness I love @
Time makes fools of us all
