From afar, the mountain is jagged and imposing. Almost eerie in the way its edges look like teeth. Close up, it’s still jagged and imposing. It’s all slippery slopes and large boulders that move with the seasons. The myriad trails are neatly maintained but only span a fraction of the mountain. Most of it is uncharted, covered in old growth forest or, towards the tip of the mountain, snow. There are hundreds of caves, some of them small little bear dens, others part of a vast, sprawling subterranean network. There is challenge here, and mystery, and these are the things that sing sweetest to Eik, when love is not in his ear.
He doesn’t intend on sticking to the path for very long. Before he can break off to explore a new part of the mountain, he sees Katniss. His champion of battle. His superior, one of many now. It doesn’t bother him anymore to have superiors, at least not greatly, but it does chafe to serve strangers. One by one he met the varied women in Denoctian positions of power, and one by one he began to know, if not trust, them.
But he doesn’t approach Katniss yet. She’s looking over the edge of the mountain, sides heaving and sweaty, breath hot steam rising in the thin air. She’s looking. He knows that look.
He’s looked over that edge. Not that same exact edge, here on the Arma mountains, but. That edge. The one you could fall from– the one you could step from, so simple, so easy. That edge with the drop far enough to be Certain. Not far enough that you would have enough time to change your mind on the way down.
And Eik doesn’t know what to say, but he thinks it would be unwise to walk away now, seeing what he’s seen. He clears his throat as he steps closer. “Enjoying the view?” If there is a wry note to his voice, it is a fine subtlety. Eik was never particularly talented with sarcasm, or humor in general. (He was probably the least well-equipped emissary in the history of Novus, but that is something to ponder another day)
“I’m Eik,” he says, even though she might (probably) already know him. “A soldier.” He tips his head, a subtle gesture of respect between soldiers. “At your service, Champion.”
art by sweet Sidly Sid
He doesn’t intend on sticking to the path for very long. Before he can break off to explore a new part of the mountain, he sees Katniss. His champion of battle. His superior, one of many now. It doesn’t bother him anymore to have superiors, at least not greatly, but it does chafe to serve strangers. One by one he met the varied women in Denoctian positions of power, and one by one he began to know, if not trust, them.
But he doesn’t approach Katniss yet. She’s looking over the edge of the mountain, sides heaving and sweaty, breath hot steam rising in the thin air. She’s looking. He knows that look.
He’s looked over that edge. Not that same exact edge, here on the Arma mountains, but. That edge. The one you could fall from– the one you could step from, so simple, so easy. That edge with the drop far enough to be Certain. Not far enough that you would have enough time to change your mind on the way down.
And Eik doesn’t know what to say, but he thinks it would be unwise to walk away now, seeing what he’s seen. He clears his throat as he steps closer. “Enjoying the view?” If there is a wry note to his voice, it is a fine subtlety. Eik was never particularly talented with sarcasm, or humor in general. (He was probably the least well-equipped emissary in the history of Novus, but that is something to ponder another day)
“I’m Eik,” he says, even though she might (probably) already know him. “A soldier.” He tips his head, a subtle gesture of respect between soldiers. “At your service, Champion.”
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Time makes fools of us all
