and he will set himself afire before he realizes that
not even the gentlest of beings can tame the sun
not even the gentlest of beings can tame the sun
✴
As with every night, he had come to find shelter beneath the cover that such a time afforded him. Away from prying eyes, assessing stares, he had been able to let the tension bleed from his body, just as his cloak did when he took it off.
Upon the stained fabric he had found what rest he could, easily woken by the softest of sound but never jarred from his sleep as a soldier in the midst of battle might have been.
No, such a reaction as that had grown old and stale a long time ago.
Then, as with every new, dawning day, he had woken feeling no less tired, but no more rested than he had been the day before. This is a state that he has only just recently been able to reacquire, after many sleepless nights that consisted of doing nothing but searching, hoping, calling out for those he was looking for.
As he had said he would the day prior, he had waited for the dark, dappled skinned oχιά to appear. By the time that she did, he was prepared—he was ready to meet the viper's slitted gaze head-on.
Instead, he was met with something else.
He didn't ask, but he did wonder. Greeting her kindly, he felt no sliver of annoyance at her lack of response beyond her simple command to lead on. So, lead on he did.
The entire time he worried.
~
The forest was as it had always been since he had come to be here. It contained the same winding trails, the familiar scent of sturdy trees that had changed with the season. To him, this is what the forest had always been, and early one in their trek he had found himself wondering again what could have possibly been going through her head to warrant so much interest in this place.
He did not know that she dreamt in the shape of weathered, birch trees; that she had hoped to find the place of her unwanted recallings here.
After all, how could he ever come to such an idea when his own dreams were filled with waves of prairie grass; arid dunes that sucked him dry of his life and desire to leave? They both dreamt of different places, longed for sites that were no longer obtainable but, oh, how Avallac'h wished they were.
Had he known of her disappointment he would have been able to see why she walked as she did. Why she walked quietly and as if she would rather be anywhere else than in the forest with him. However, since he didn't, Avallac'h could find no plausible reason as to the spirit she radiated.
No reason but, possibly, himself or something that had happened in the night that had caused her to look more tired than the day before.
He wanted to ask, wanted to know why she appeared as she did, but he steered clear of such lines of conversation. It was not his place, no matter if he wanted it to be — out of interest for her own well-being, of course, not his own curiosity. His own interests would never come before another, especially another's health.
(It was so easy to forgive her digging words, the evaluating stare, that she had given him the other day.)
Instead, he merely continued to lead her on, towards the river that bordered the other side of the forest. A part of him grateful for her lack of venom, but a larger part of him too concerned to find any joy in that fact.
~
Content as he could be with the pieces in his life that he missed and lacked, his steps did not falter when they came to the cared-for clearing. The gentle decorations that warmly dressed the place not an oddity to him. Not since many could be found here and there beyond this place, more so the closer one came to be to the center of the Court.
Having, by now, grown accustomed to his companion's demeanor and state of being, he was blind to her delaying gait.
Just as he was blind to the whispers that she heard. For he was lost, but he had long ago found the ability to block out the whispers of his own making, making it more difficult for the whispers that had no access to his mind to ford the river that enclosed it.
(Did he hear them, though?
Yes... he always did.)
It is only the call of his name that signals him to the distance that now separates him from her. (His name upon her lips is soft, for once, so different and therefore so special from the other words she had spoken). Steps halting, his ears and head turn to her, his body soon following as he notes how behind she is—how close she is to a path that is not the one he had been leading them towards.
Did you hear that?
Head tilting, he warily makes his way over to her. Ears twitching in interest.
It is then the ache appears, the feeling of knowing he has had something but no longer does. It is similar to the hollowness he carries inside of him, a hollowness he has carried since the day his sorcery was taken without his consent by a place he had known nothing about.
His answer comes easily to him, as most do. "I do..." There is clear apprehension in his voice; an uncertainty that leads to hesitation as he stands just behind, off to the side of her.
Something (a desire to be kept safe from harm, a feeling that had kept him safe in battle) tells him they should continue on.
Glancing away for a quick moment, back in the direction they had been heading in, he speaks up. "We should continue—" his gaze returns to her, "Hälla." He calls to her, seeing her already beginning to cross the threshold to the path completely.
His own anxiety makes him hesitate in following her, but his concern for her safety (only heightened since he has been the one leading her through the forest) forces him to go after her.
"Hälla," he gently calls out again as he moves to reach her side.
@Hälla , @Official Dawn Account
Speech
Upon the stained fabric he had found what rest he could, easily woken by the softest of sound but never jarred from his sleep as a soldier in the midst of battle might have been.
No, such a reaction as that had grown old and stale a long time ago.
Then, as with every new, dawning day, he had woken feeling no less tired, but no more rested than he had been the day before. This is a state that he has only just recently been able to reacquire, after many sleepless nights that consisted of doing nothing but searching, hoping, calling out for those he was looking for.
As he had said he would the day prior, he had waited for the dark, dappled skinned oχιά to appear. By the time that she did, he was prepared—he was ready to meet the viper's slitted gaze head-on.
Instead, he was met with something else.
He didn't ask, but he did wonder. Greeting her kindly, he felt no sliver of annoyance at her lack of response beyond her simple command to lead on. So, lead on he did.
The entire time he worried.
The forest was as it had always been since he had come to be here. It contained the same winding trails, the familiar scent of sturdy trees that had changed with the season. To him, this is what the forest had always been, and early one in their trek he had found himself wondering again what could have possibly been going through her head to warrant so much interest in this place.
He did not know that she dreamt in the shape of weathered, birch trees; that she had hoped to find the place of her unwanted recallings here.
After all, how could he ever come to such an idea when his own dreams were filled with waves of prairie grass; arid dunes that sucked him dry of his life and desire to leave? They both dreamt of different places, longed for sites that were no longer obtainable but, oh, how Avallac'h wished they were.
Had he known of her disappointment he would have been able to see why she walked as she did. Why she walked quietly and as if she would rather be anywhere else than in the forest with him. However, since he didn't, Avallac'h could find no plausible reason as to the spirit she radiated.
No reason but, possibly, himself or something that had happened in the night that had caused her to look more tired than the day before.
He wanted to ask, wanted to know why she appeared as she did, but he steered clear of such lines of conversation. It was not his place, no matter if he wanted it to be — out of interest for her own well-being, of course, not his own curiosity. His own interests would never come before another, especially another's health.
(It was so easy to forgive her digging words, the evaluating stare, that she had given him the other day.)
Instead, he merely continued to lead her on, towards the river that bordered the other side of the forest. A part of him grateful for her lack of venom, but a larger part of him too concerned to find any joy in that fact.
Content as he could be with the pieces in his life that he missed and lacked, his steps did not falter when they came to the cared-for clearing. The gentle decorations that warmly dressed the place not an oddity to him. Not since many could be found here and there beyond this place, more so the closer one came to be to the center of the Court.
Having, by now, grown accustomed to his companion's demeanor and state of being, he was blind to her delaying gait.
Just as he was blind to the whispers that she heard. For he was lost, but he had long ago found the ability to block out the whispers of his own making, making it more difficult for the whispers that had no access to his mind to ford the river that enclosed it.
Yes... he always did.)
It is only the call of his name that signals him to the distance that now separates him from her. (His name upon her lips is soft, for once, so different and therefore so special from the other words she had spoken). Steps halting, his ears and head turn to her, his body soon following as he notes how behind she is—how close she is to a path that is not the one he had been leading them towards.
Did you hear that?
Head tilting, he warily makes his way over to her. Ears twitching in interest.
It is then the ache appears, the feeling of knowing he has had something but no longer does. It is similar to the hollowness he carries inside of him, a hollowness he has carried since the day his sorcery was taken without his consent by a place he had known nothing about.
His answer comes easily to him, as most do. "I do..." There is clear apprehension in his voice; an uncertainty that leads to hesitation as he stands just behind, off to the side of her.
Something (a desire to be kept safe from harm, a feeling that had kept him safe in battle) tells him they should continue on.
Glancing away for a quick moment, back in the direction they had been heading in, he speaks up. "We should continue—" his gaze returns to her, "Hälla." He calls to her, seeing her already beginning to cross the threshold to the path completely.
His own anxiety makes him hesitate in following her, but his concern for her safety (only heightened since he has been the one leading her through the forest) forces him to go after her.
"Hälla," he gently calls out again as he moves to reach her side.
Speech
