The scarred grey stallion is saying goodbye to his city.
He walks the Solterran streets for what feels like the last time. He’ll be back, surely, but they won’t be his anymore, will they? He won’t be Solterran, even though his tongue might sometimes slip into that accent; slurred yet exaggerated, musical yet harsh, a contradiction among so many other contradictions.
EIK is saying goodbye to his city when it happens. The first pebble falling that triggers the landslide. Soon enough there is a terrible dichotomy in the capitol. On one hand there is screaming and running, so much sound and motion. Madness. On the other there is silence, and stillness, and it almost seems eerily holy. It is most certainly wrong, but also... also it is a kind of peace. And they have not seen peace in what seems like a very long time.
“Fable.” He reaches, farther than he ever has before, with his strange-slippery magic, to the dragon that is flying home. “I need Isra. Here. Now.” Urgency gives him the power to communicate the message, although an awful wave of nausea follows that nearly brings him to his knees. It would, if he were not so used to enduring pain.
And suddenly there is Seraphina. Terrible and wonderful, glowing with magic, suspended like a puppet– god holding the strings.
And suddenly there is Raum. Terrible and wonderful in his own right.
And Eik feels–
He feels immensely sad. Relieved, but sad. The emotions chafe like an old wound that refuses to be forgotten. The paradox tears him at the seams.
(Somewhere along the line, he realized there was no such thing as an end. That's just how life was-- there was never a true ending, not like a story. It was just– endless beginnings. Endless-- Drama. Suffering. Life. Brilliant blooms of something good (love, peace, faith) in a dark, bottomless ocean of war, tyranny, pain.
It was all a long, slow march to one’s death, and he wondered sometimes if there was any point to it at all.)
“Raum.” Eik’s call is an echo of Seraphina’s, although it remains in the intimacy between the two of them, the gift of his magic. Raum, Raum, Raum. How many times has that name passed through the grey’s weary mind? “Are you ready?”
Are you ready for the end?
Eik was tired, so tired, even though he knew he had the world (and more!) to live for now. Even though justice was upon them. (Sometimes he just wanted to weep for everyone. For the merciless pain of life– and death.)
He thinks of his daughters, those two perfect little stars, and their mother, and the cave that collapsed, and retribution fills his chest the way pride never has.
(But…
Sometimes– maybe always?–
nothing is enough.
Not even justice.)
AND ONE DAY, WE WILL OPEN OUR EYES, WE WILL AGAIN LOVE,
OUR BODIES WILL NEVER AGAIN BE BROKEN AND WE WILL
STEP INTO THE DAWN WITH NOTHING IN OUR HANDS, WE WILL
LET OUR SCARS TURN INTO SMALL BIRDS.
He walks the Solterran streets for what feels like the last time. He’ll be back, surely, but they won’t be his anymore, will they? He won’t be Solterran, even though his tongue might sometimes slip into that accent; slurred yet exaggerated, musical yet harsh, a contradiction among so many other contradictions.
EIK is saying goodbye to his city when it happens. The first pebble falling that triggers the landslide. Soon enough there is a terrible dichotomy in the capitol. On one hand there is screaming and running, so much sound and motion. Madness. On the other there is silence, and stillness, and it almost seems eerily holy. It is most certainly wrong, but also... also it is a kind of peace. And they have not seen peace in what seems like a very long time.
“Fable.” He reaches, farther than he ever has before, with his strange-slippery magic, to the dragon that is flying home. “I need Isra. Here. Now.” Urgency gives him the power to communicate the message, although an awful wave of nausea follows that nearly brings him to his knees. It would, if he were not so used to enduring pain.
And suddenly there is Seraphina. Terrible and wonderful, glowing with magic, suspended like a puppet– god holding the strings.
And suddenly there is Raum. Terrible and wonderful in his own right.
And Eik feels–
He feels immensely sad. Relieved, but sad. The emotions chafe like an old wound that refuses to be forgotten. The paradox tears him at the seams.
(Somewhere along the line, he realized there was no such thing as an end. That's just how life was-- there was never a true ending, not like a story. It was just– endless beginnings. Endless-- Drama. Suffering. Life. Brilliant blooms of something good (love, peace, faith) in a dark, bottomless ocean of war, tyranny, pain.
It was all a long, slow march to one’s death, and he wondered sometimes if there was any point to it at all.)
“Raum.” Eik’s call is an echo of Seraphina’s, although it remains in the intimacy between the two of them, the gift of his magic. Raum, Raum, Raum. How many times has that name passed through the grey’s weary mind? “Are you ready?”
Are you ready for the end?
Eik was tired, so tired, even though he knew he had the world (and more!) to live for now. Even though justice was upon them. (Sometimes he just wanted to weep for everyone. For the merciless pain of life– and death.)
He thinks of his daughters, those two perfect little stars, and their mother, and the cave that collapsed, and retribution fills his chest the way pride never has.
(But…
Sometimes– maybe always?–
nothing is enough.
Not even justice.)
OUR BODIES WILL NEVER AGAIN BE BROKEN AND WE WILL
STEP INTO THE DAWN WITH NOTHING IN OUR HANDS, WE WILL
LET OUR SCARS TURN INTO SMALL BIRDS.
@Raum @
(I may have glazed over some details, I hope you all don't mind! I wanted to keep it short)
Time makes fools of us all
