COME BACK TO THE SHORES OF WHAT YOU ARE
COME BACK TO THE CRUMBLING SHORES
The magic should cause him to marvel, Orestes supposes. He cannot discern reality from fantasy; nor can he decide if the cosmos he wades through, like so much water, is true or false or some strange dream. Orestes walks through interstellar clouds made up of dust and who knows—perhaps hydrogen, helium, ionised gases—but that doesn’t seem quite right, as he breathes and lives through it. He walks around strange, towering cloud-like pillars made of up of vaguely golden light and darker clouds, too.
Orestes cannot help but smile, either, at the girl and the bear as lost in this real-but-not-real world as he is. “I agree. It is just like walking through the night sky.” And infinitely more intimate, infinitely closer. Orestes glances back from the direction he came, amazed to see a path of hoof-prints lighted up behind him, as if by disturbing the dust he caused it to glow. He glances back at her. “Olympus is the legendary home of the gods. Not Novus’s, but… gods, somewhere, I suppose.” Orestes smiles a little sadly. He can not quite remember who told him the story of Olympus, or where, but he knows it was a time before Novus when the sea still loved him.
He shakes his head at her apology. “There is nothing to be sorry for. I am Orestes, and that—“ he gestures his chin at the lion, who has wandered from him yet again. “Is Ariel. Are you new to Novus? Perhaps we could walk together.” He extends the invitation without second thought.
@Ciaran || "Ariel" || "Orestes"
the wave of a life darker than my
life before me sped, and I,
larger than I was, grown dark as
the shoreless depth,
arose from myself, shaking the last
light of the sun
from me.
