The little oak tree begins to grow, his magic coursing through the veins of the cliffs, feeding into the roots of the giant oak tree and helping it to gain another few inches in minutes. And when his magic begins to fade, Rhone looks at the tree and thinks about all the possibilities as to why this tree continue to grow, even when the limestone the roots are attached to pull away nutrients like salt in a wound. Perhaps it’s more than just magic that holds this tree in place. Perhaps the tree too feels hope and faith that it will continue to grow, despite the circumstances it has found itself in. And Rhone knows that with his help, this tree will flourish. He has to think that this oak tree is more than just a tree, it’s a tribute to legacy. Asterion had loved this tree when it was only but a sapling. Perhaps this tree would be a gentle reminder of Asterion, about how he believed in everything and every one. Yes, he had to believe that.
He smells her before he sees her, her scent floating on the wind like a leaf caught in a current. He does not look at her at first, choosing to look out at the open sea, at the sunrise, and at the dolphin breaking the surface below. He waits until she is closer and that is when he turns to look at her, his eyes soft and knowing.
He catches her greeting and offers her a soft nod of his head in return. "Aye, it is a good morning." It was a good and beautiful morning, more beautiful than many things. But despite its beauty, it was still a hard and painful morning. The day after Asterion is gone. It’s a day that aches deep in his chest, but it is a day that must continue on. They must continue on and complete the legacy that Asterion has left for them. If they do not, then what is it all for?
He waits until Marisol is closer, close enough that she can hear his voice even at a whisper above the roar of the sea below. He waits until he can see the dirt caked on her ankles, the way the salty air tangles her mane. And it is now that he turns to her with a smile. "Have you come here to remember him too?" Rhone doesn’t need to mention his name. Marisol will know exactly who Rhone is talking about and she too will know that this was a place he came often. Looking down, he lowers his head to the each and musters up the last ounces of his magic to sprout some beautiful lilies at the base of their feet, decorating the cliff side with beauty and an aroma that is unmatched. It was beautiful here, it truly was.
@Marisol
