T E N E B R A E
On my body, the grace of shadows
and in my heart: all Hells
and in my heart: all Hells
I feel her presence waning now, perhaps drowned out by the conflict with the sun.
Tenebrae’s muzzle presses in toward his chest. His ears fall into the tangle of his hair. They lay there, black as hornets. Their stinger is the sharp line his lips form as displeasure oozes from his soul to gather as poison along the cut of his maw.
Tenebrae’s eyes tip up, his chin jutting up toward the sky. His shadows claw up, up to the illusion of stars above. Always Solis’ sun was too bold, always it ate at Caligo’s darkness. The monk knows the anguish of the man, his pain at the stars that slip through his fingers like water. They are loosened by Caligo’s waning magic - or so Azrael claimed.
His gaze tumbles down from the sky until it finds rest within the stranger’s. “Her presence never wanes.” The monk breathes emphatically. The stars begin to tremble with their illusion, as if Night descends in her true form, darkness piercing this fake sky like swords into an enemy’s armour. “We allow ourselves to grow numb, distracted with other things. We do not listen to her.”
Tenebrae’s magic flares. His darkness billows as wings about his shoulders. They dissipate only to gather again, this time as a swarm of bees. “This magic is hers. If she was waning I could not conjure as I do.”
Beneath the island’s illusion they cannot see out. Novus hides behind her veil and so, when Azrael speaks of the mountains, it is only Tenebrae’s mind that pictures them. The star-man’s words are an antidote to the poison across the Disciple’s lips. A smile forms supple as ink. Tenebrae was not made for Court life either, yet he found himself there, on occasion. Most recently vowing himself to the Denoctean Queen. “The mountains are more peaceful. When you are next there you should visit the Night Order. Our Abbey is there. You would be welcome. None of the monks take pleasure in Court society either.”
The monk does not think on why that final sentence felt so much like a lie upon his tongue. Though it will haunt his prayers. It will play upon his tongue as he confesses his misdeeds before Caligo this night.
“I am glad you got to see her.” Tenebrae says quietly. “She is always there, for those who listen to her and welcome her.”
He sighs and the shadows blow as smoke from his nostrils. “You are blessed to have seen her. Come and join us, tell my brothers and I about it one day.” A shoulder rolls, “I should leave. Until we meet again though?” The Disciple asks, and slowly turns, letting his shadows collect the man’s answer. The illusion of stars watch him go, blinking.
~aaaand fin <3 Thank you my lovely. I really enjoyed that :)
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