He had not known what to expect, except the unexpected. Still, the mare’s warmth and energy catch him off guard. He had thought she would, at the very least, be a little eerie. Instead she reminds him of someone caught out of place and time, untouched by war and gods and magic– or at least strong enough of mind to be touched by these things and still rise above. To float, and not sink, when the tide comes in.
But Novus was continuously surprising Eik. Each time he thought he had it down– like thinking he at least had an idea of what the woman who lived in the swamp would be like– he was wrong. It was a constant lesson in humility, the one trait he had in abundance yet was constantly learning more about.
Surprised into silence, he takes a hesitant step through the doorway.
The small hut had that one strange quality of all homely spaces; it seemed bigger on the inside than the outside. It needed to be big– it was packed with… stuff. The clutter instantly reminded him of the inside of his mind. Even though he did not see the patterns, he knew they were there, he knew there was an order to the chaos. The scroll that laid on the table was not misplaced or forgotten about, it was simply waiting to be returned to. The same could be said for the dying (dead?) plant in the eastern window, or the small bundle of something (sage?) that seemingly lay discarded in the corner.
And what about Eik, where does he fit in to the picture? The room seems to welcome him without question– did he deserve such a welcome?– embracing him as though he was already known. And his hostess, so quick to sweep him inside, pour the tea, introduce herself. Corrdelia Maude, a proper name– his feels limp and lacking in comparison. “I’m Eik. Just Eik.” A weak smile, like there’s a joke somewhere but he doesn’t have the energy for the punchline. The mare’s sunny demeanor does not do much to raise his somber spirits.
After his eyes flit from wall to wall, taking in… well, not all of the space (every time you look, something new seems to emerge) but much of it, his attention returns to Corrdelia Maude. He takes a sip of the lavender tea, both to be polite and spare himself from speaking. “Hmm, this is good.” It was not a lie. It would also not be a lie to say he preferred water. But water does not have the same soothing effect, does it? Eik takes another contemplative sip. He might see how someone could get used to drinking this stuff.
The silence stretches too thin for the expectation in the air. “I don’t know why I’m here,” he blurts out plainly, eyes resting on the bird skull around Corrdelia’s neck instead of meeting her gaze. He knows that he increasingly feels torn in two directions: love and duty, Denocte and Solterra. He knows he must choose, knows that maybe he already has, and the choosing will hurt. But coming to the stranger with the cards was a whim, probably a foolish one– he does not even know how to put into words the tides that tug at his heart. “I heard you give advice. Can you help someone who does not know what questions to ask?”
and you keep telling yourself
there is no smell of war in me
but why else would this feel like madness
art by Pherigo
@Corrdelia <33
Time makes fools of us all
