Her companion, her beating heart, they are an amalgamation of emotions she is still learning to process, to digest, to understand and echo in her own mannerisms. With all the attention of a saint, all the focus of a priest leading their flock to greener pastures, to water, to the holy lands, Moira Tonnerre, a daughter of the great Tonnerre house, a phoenix in her own right, a flaming banner of hope and pillar of Denocte, leans in to listen in hopes of understanding. ”Hasn’t there been enough of that?” Eik asks plainly, softly.
His words are the ghosts that haunt them all, grave and low and sad. But she cannot answer in a way he wishes, cannot give him the reassuring words he seeks. “Death is a natural part of life and runs its course. We all die, Eik. Some die to give others life. Some sacrifice themselves in great or poor taste. So many will not be remembered - they are nameless, only a face to lurk in the darkest shadows at night; others you will hold dear and will drive you mad to lose them. Death comes for us all, but we choose how great an impact we have on others before we die. We choose our futures.” And the earnesty! It is brimming with the need to be true, a hope that her own future is not lost, that her own dreams will not be dashed against the shores or reality at the foot of cliffs with rocks like daggers to shred them apart. Winged girl cannot look at him then, not with the prospect of losing it all.
She wonders if this is even a fraction of what Bexley felt - feels - when Acton died. When word reached her, did she try to shred the world? Is that why storms rose and the sun shivered, shying away to let the lands grow cold? Is that why the stars screamed down around them and waters churned, angry and hungry for blood? Did they feel the rage and loss of a woman in gold, a woman in love?
The thought could break her if she dwells, so she does not. Later, there would be a time for reflection when she’s pressed neatly into the side of a striped beast that loves her more than life itself. When their jungle hearts sing together once more, dance side by side, beat as one, only then can she fall into a void of remembrance and reflection where caesuras do not interrupt nor hinder her thoughts. Then, things will flow and she would be free to feel everything so deeply as though for the first time.
But not now.
Not now.
“What could you owe the dead, Eik? They are not here to haunt you, to pull you apart at the seams. Do not bear their sins upon your skin and write them into your heart. Remember them as they deserve, do not drown because they did.” If they stopped, she would kiss his brow and hug him tight. She would force him to hold on to life, to be selfish for himself, for Isra, but they move steadily over the land bridge, destination unknown.
The phoenix strength stems from the sun child’s, burrowing into the folds of his and pulling out the precious little bits she needs. Moira would have made the walk alone, but she is forever grateful that today she need not succumb to such hardships, let alone with her thoughts that seek to devour. They are always so starving for her flesh.
He hums words. It seems Eik always asks this, yet it is a question she does not mind. There is always a next. Chapters end and the book goes on, so too do their lives. Her own answer is sweet and sad, soft as a lamb freshly dried. “We don’t let them die in vain, we live. And next,” she pauses, thoughtful. A beach is almost before them, the curving of an island full of strange things is far up ahead. “We learn why we are here - in life, in our hearts, on this island… Sometimes, the journey is the most exciting part of the adventure.” Moira lets his magic wash over her, his warmth, his awe, his faith in her. It could have made her cry if tears were not so readily dried - too many shed in the past months for so many souls lost and found. But she is thankful all the same, and she smiles that secret smile, that soft smile, the one she’d given him when they’d first met and she was so green to Novus and its inhabitants. Then, she wonders, if she knew what she did now, would she have done something different?
No
her heart whispers quietly, smiling at Eik and pushing the feelings towards him, letting him into her obsidian shield so that he might glean something from that he’d so freely offered before.
“speech” | @Eik | I love it too, so much ! I'm good stopping or going <3
His words are the ghosts that haunt them all, grave and low and sad. But she cannot answer in a way he wishes, cannot give him the reassuring words he seeks. “Death is a natural part of life and runs its course. We all die, Eik. Some die to give others life. Some sacrifice themselves in great or poor taste. So many will not be remembered - they are nameless, only a face to lurk in the darkest shadows at night; others you will hold dear and will drive you mad to lose them. Death comes for us all, but we choose how great an impact we have on others before we die. We choose our futures.” And the earnesty! It is brimming with the need to be true, a hope that her own future is not lost, that her own dreams will not be dashed against the shores or reality at the foot of cliffs with rocks like daggers to shred them apart. Winged girl cannot look at him then, not with the prospect of losing it all.
She wonders if this is even a fraction of what Bexley felt - feels - when Acton died. When word reached her, did she try to shred the world? Is that why storms rose and the sun shivered, shying away to let the lands grow cold? Is that why the stars screamed down around them and waters churned, angry and hungry for blood? Did they feel the rage and loss of a woman in gold, a woman in love?
The thought could break her if she dwells, so she does not. Later, there would be a time for reflection when she’s pressed neatly into the side of a striped beast that loves her more than life itself. When their jungle hearts sing together once more, dance side by side, beat as one, only then can she fall into a void of remembrance and reflection where caesuras do not interrupt nor hinder her thoughts. Then, things will flow and she would be free to feel everything so deeply as though for the first time.
But not now.
Not now.
“What could you owe the dead, Eik? They are not here to haunt you, to pull you apart at the seams. Do not bear their sins upon your skin and write them into your heart. Remember them as they deserve, do not drown because they did.” If they stopped, she would kiss his brow and hug him tight. She would force him to hold on to life, to be selfish for himself, for Isra, but they move steadily over the land bridge, destination unknown.
The phoenix strength stems from the sun child’s, burrowing into the folds of his and pulling out the precious little bits she needs. Moira would have made the walk alone, but she is forever grateful that today she need not succumb to such hardships, let alone with her thoughts that seek to devour. They are always so starving for her flesh.
He hums words. It seems Eik always asks this, yet it is a question she does not mind. There is always a next. Chapters end and the book goes on, so too do their lives. Her own answer is sweet and sad, soft as a lamb freshly dried. “We don’t let them die in vain, we live. And next,” she pauses, thoughtful. A beach is almost before them, the curving of an island full of strange things is far up ahead. “We learn why we are here - in life, in our hearts, on this island… Sometimes, the journey is the most exciting part of the adventure.” Moira lets his magic wash over her, his warmth, his awe, his faith in her. It could have made her cry if tears were not so readily dried - too many shed in the past months for so many souls lost and found. But she is thankful all the same, and she smiles that secret smile, that soft smile, the one she’d given him when they’d first met and she was so green to Novus and its inhabitants. Then, she wonders, if she knew what she did now, would she have done something different?
No
her heart whispers quietly, smiling at Eik and pushing the feelings towards him, letting him into her obsidian shield so that he might glean something from that he’d so freely offered before.
