The world is changing faster, uglier, stranger than he could have imagined. An island rises from the sea. An island falls into the sea. Tyrants rise and fall, kings vanish into the twilight. Monsters roam the woods.
A boy watches, heart in his mouth– under his tongue where it’s safe and warm and pink. A boy holds close the things that matter. And when the things that matter are not there, he holds close their memories. Llewelyn’s absence was something visceral. There was not an empty space where she once filled his life. Instead, quite the opposite, there was something like a stone. Grey, opaque, cold and rough to the touch. Heavy, so unbelievably heavy for a thing that was not really there.
The boy loves and hates his stone.
He doesn’t think of it, not usually, but it’s there, it’s always there. It does not even inspire song, or poetry, the way he imagined such a weight would. It just hangs heavy and grey and impossible to ignore, although he tries his hardest. It doesn’t help when the summer burns its way to autumn, and autumn crumbles into winter, and all the world grows colder and darker and indifferent to the boy who just wants time to slow down for a little bit, if it could not stop.
Up they go to the mountain, the boy and his stone, the very top of the mountain where he went sometimes to look across Novus and think. It was not so much a place of prayer for him, as he believed prayer was best expressed by the way one chose to live their life. But while he was at Veneror he would often sing a song for his god, for all the gods while he was at it, or leave small tokens he was not sure did anything, but they certainly couldn’t hurt.
He flew, of course, and while it was easier than climbing it was still no easy feat. By the time he lands at the peak, his body is slick with sweat and his short mane windswept and tangled. The sun is well and risen, pooled in crisp golden light. He steps forward and finds himself face to face with…
"Llewelyn?" The boy feels a little like all the air has left him. A little cracked-egg broken. He looks behind him, in case this is some horribly cruel and elaborate prank. Nothing but sunset. He glances past her. Nothing in the shadowy cavern at her back. His eyes are wide with emotions that fight for control: confusion, celebration, anger. Between the fragile balance of the three, there is no space for relief. Not even enough room to breathe. "What the fuck is going on?" He still is not convinced this isn't a trick. “Are... are you okay??”
Mateo blinks back tears. The stone rolls around in his stomach. He missed her so, so much.
- - -
@Llewelyn ;_; <3
