Losing too is still ours; and even forgetting
still has a shape in the kingdom of transformation.
"You're really questioning my loyalty?"
Loyalty was highly in demand these days, and in short stock. It's why the former Solterran kept his head low in Denocte-- for he wasstill loyal to Solterra, to the country if not its leader, and this is a fact he would not, could not, deny. Conflictingly he was loyal to Isra too, and by extension the Night Court.
But he was not loyal to those he did not know, even if they served the same institutions he did.
“I don’t know you,” he says plainly as way of explanation. It never occurred to him that he should trust someone because of their rank. In fact Eik lived in a world that was often the complete opposite of most, and in his word rank must be questioned and not trusted. Particularly if it involved working closely with Isra, who been kidnapped one time too many. “But I’d like to,” he clarifies. It isn’t something he’d usually say but the booze always did make him a little too eager to please others. Besides, there’s sparks coming up from her hooves, looking for tinder to sink their heat into, and it makes something deep in his stomach twist nervously. Eik hates fire.
The warden says she comes from Ourania. A land he’s never heard of and– he has no reason at all to imagine this but– he pictures lush, gloomy forests and grey skies. Past the forest, dusty brown steppes with hot winters. It’s all poppycock, but dreamers must dream. And he isn’t about to ask her what the landscape is like. “Do you miss it?”
He uses his magic on her, just a little bit. In a crowd like this, it takes skill to tap in into a specific person’s mind. Before he settles on Morrighan he skims through a merchant frustrated with the lack of sales and an urchin daydreaming of summer. He can still feel the warmth of the dream on his back and the dry summer wind in his mane, even after he focuses on the warden.
Eik does not flex enough to break into her mind, he just skims the top of her thoughts to garner the genuinity of her words. Enough to tell she is surprised and mildly annoyed by his question (but that had already been clear) but answered in earnest (which he had expected). Just as he withdraws his magic, satisfied, she asks him why Isra trusts him.
After a moment he grins, suddenly and a little cheekily. “You’ll have to ask Isra that,” he shrugs. “I don’t speak for her.” But… it’s a good question. Good in that it’s not as simple as it seems, and he can’t help but picking it up and playing with the frayed edges of it. Unwinding all the thoughts and hopes and assumptions. He frowns, and keeps walking.
Eventually, the frown fades. Slowly, like it forgot to be there.
A few minutes later, he revisits the question. “Maybe because I knew her before she was a queen.” Maybe because even now, he knows her the way one side of a blade knows the other. With his magic it was technically an easy thing for him to do with anyone, but… no one drew him in like she did. No one opened him up, shone light into all the shadowy corners. The two lowers were carved by sorrow and loss, so deeply that it only made sense each of them would be the only one who really saw the other.
of the circle, it draws around us its unbroken, marvelous curve
@Morrighan <3
Time makes fools of us all
