in sunshine and in shadow
He ought to be grateful to the darkness for the way it disguises her killing gaze with firelight, with smoke.
Instead he only wants to see her more clearly, to study her for longer, to learn for himself if there are any other mirrors of who she is and who he has known before. Each time the blade of her tail glints like a sword in the light of the flame, each time she turns and his eyes catch upon that thin, jagged strip of lightning, his wondering mind fumbles nearer to an answer.
There can be nothing truly strange to Asterion any more - not when he has witnessed the waking and the wrath of the gods, not when his sister can bend time to her will and open doors between worlds, not when he has seen so many wonders he tires of them. And so, when he catches just a glimpse of Thana out of the corner of his eye - just the swing of her tail or the dip of her horn or the flash of her eye - it does not seem too far-fetched to wonder if she is the daughter of Calliope and Raymond. It does not seem far-fetched to think he must know her, somehow, in some world-below-worlds, in the part of his heart that is deep and dark and keeps its secrets even from himself. Why else this feeling of knowing, this draw of recognition, and even the flash of death in her eyes?
The king nods at her answer, slow, regarding her as she twists back her ears and the wind keeps her in movement. “Then we can learn Terrastella’s together, if you want.” A smile as the wind shifts, as smoke blows between them, as laughter scatters around them like starlight scatters across the water. Asterion has to bend nearer to hear her question, but he is glad for it - for the way that each time he draws close he doesn’t know what will happen, where the terrible weapon of her horn will point. Maybe he is mad, tonight, but he doesn’t mind that either.
“I give one to the sea each year.” He glances to the cliff, where the water glimmers far below, visible only where the scant light touches it like bright runes on dark skin. “But I don’t believe that they’re answered. Still, it’s nice for something to have them other than my heart, or my head. An ocean of wishes, where none are alone.” When he laughs it is at himself, and there is something dark in it, almost bitter, almost hollow. Asterion knows he has lived his life as a foolish boy with hope a buoy in his chest, telling him each day is a promise and not a curse. But Asterion the man - the king - has learned better. How could he not have, when he has had so many willing teachers?
He might have answered her question another way. I have burned a thousand wishes. One for peace, one for protection, one for the rains to end. One for love and one for justice.
All of them left only ash.
@Thana
