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
✴
The belief that this might come to quick end, meet a swift death, slowly begins to die inside that hopeful heart of his. Together they are but two helpless being, each drawn and bound to this place for as long as it wishes to keep them here. It was now entrapped them both, each with but simple calls of their names that only their own ears were privy to.
It calls for them both, and they are both powerless to resist what beckons them deeper down the forested path.
All the while, he could not resist the temptation that begged for him to look over his shoulder and glance at Hälla to ensure she was still close. The act was only done a handful of times until his anxious mind begged him to settle and trust that nothing would happen to either of them. He willed himself to obey, to tamper down on this inexplicable desire that asked for him to keep gazing at her.
All was well, and answers were still asking to be caught.
Just as the breaching sunlight found her own touch-starved skin, so did it find his own. Glancing upward, through the wicked branches that attempted to catch what light it could and bar it from ever getting through. Avallac'h marks the time of day, trying to quickly surmise just how much time has passed since they both heard those unearthly words that had passed their ears like the gentlest of breezes.
Contemplating, with ears held back in thought, he is an unknowing fool to what is occurring around.
Until the light above begins to fade.
As quick as the sudden call of a bugle, as swift as the blazing life of a crackling flame—his head turns to where his silent companion was, and he is met with nothing but the obscuring veil of the unexpected fog. Alarm shoots out from within the depths of his heart, causing his neck to tense and ears to stand to attention. Body turning in the direction he had last known her to be, he attempts -foolishly so- to see her.
He lifts a hoof up to take a step in the direction, "Hä—"
Avallac'h...
His hoof never falls.
Neck straining to look behind him, he is met with nothing but the heavy blanket that has come to befall him and separate him from the one he had entered this place with. (He knew that voice—one that is -was- drained after emerging from the sea. One that belonged to a woman that had helped him save those he could.
He hasn't seen her in so long.)
His heart begins to pound for a completely different reason. A reason drenched in anxiety and fear as another voice pulls his attention to his left.
Advena, Vall, you are okay?—arid desert lands, the baking heat of the sun upon his cloaked back. A pain, a strong longing, and uncontainable grief, suddenly yank on the ends of his cloak, choking him. βοήθεια! His ears twitch to pick up the call for help, the sound of a broken woman's voice piercing the deepest part of him with a poisoned dagger whose aim is always true.
Vall!
Daughter of the sea, who took him to the Mother Tree.
Always, I will have your back.
His eyes shut, for that voice is, perhaps, the hardest to listen to. Aelin-Lekha. Where have they all gone, where are they, are they safe, are they okay? He finds his feet retreating uncertainly, head turning this way and that as he attempts to regain his footing. All the while the voices persist.
You have been like… like a father to me. — You're an intriguing creature, Avallac'h. — I came here to get away, I didn't want to be found... — Αδερφέ, έλα και κοίτα! — Τι κάνεις? — Do you need any help? — Are you lost, old man?
They are all a resounding orchestra of musical instruments that do nothing to soothe him. They all pull on the strings of his heart, never stopping and bringing with them the pain of a father who has lost those he cares for, the shame of a soldier that has had to do unimaginable things he never believed himself capable, the guilt of a Sovereign who failed his people—
The pain of a boy that was given away by his mother and made a slave.
A ragged breath leaves his lungs, stifled by the tightness in his throat as he forces himself to move. (Has he been moving this entire time? Or has he been rooted in place, falling prey to the wretched voices of memories he would sooner wish to forget?)
I know no Avallac’h... Forgive me sir, you must have me confused for s-someone else. It hurts to hear, to remember that conversation that ended in nothing but pain and misery. My name is Lekha! No, no. That was not her name.
Where was Hälla?
You say that as if I had a choice! You were quick to lock me away. Tuck away the problem... it's bound to fester. You are just as much at fault as I am. Blame me, hate me, hurt me if you want, but you'll never get over it if you don't forgive yourself.
How could he ever forgive himself?
Advena—Vall, I thought you gone as vell. Dead, taken by the— they took my people, Advena. Nothi! They took my home. Everything, It is all gone…
He knows—he knows and understands.
A choked sob almost managed to escape him, but he beats it into submission with a weapon forged from pain and anger he has not wielded in years. He makes the weight around his legs, the heavy chains, release him and let him slowly go. The tide of emotions that have built up behind his eyes, which has managed to break free and cause a few tears to run down his stained cheeks, does not make him falter. He is getting out.
But where is she?
The old king bares his teeth then as a murky apparition, something he believes to be a simple conjuring created by his own mind, emerges from within the hidden depths of the fog. Alarm, pain, is what makes Avallac'h stumble backward, the unmistakable formation of horns upon the wraith poised to strike.
They never do, and he is instead met with nothing more than the weightless breeze.
Inhaling, he looks in the direction the fog's creation had just been. Now, there is nothing. Panic tells him to hurry, to get out before the memories become too much. Whatever lingers in the abyss, beyond the unbreakable walls created by the fog, Avallac'h wants nothing to do with. He had been foolish to try and seek answers he has no right to gaining.
He moves, but his hope of making progress is cut short when his steps come to an immediate halt as his eyes fall upon the unmistakable image of the one that practically raised him.
The man, enslaved just as Avallac'h had been when he was but a boy, seems to be looking off into the distance, at something that Avallac'h's own eyes cannot see. This figure needs no color, no refined details for Avallac'h to remember the eyes the other bore, different from Avallac'h's own despite the Oracle having been a mage himself. He also does not need anything more to make out the clear form of a necklace, wrapped around his mentor's neck three times.
It was the very same necklace Avallac'h currently wore.
One of the foggy apparition's ears waves in Avallac'h's direction, as if it could hear the way his heart pounded against his ribs. It's head then turned, and it seems like it was just the other day that Avallac'h was looking at the smile he sees appear on the face of his mentor.
Εδώ είσαι, the man, guardian— Albus says, Σε περίμενα να τελειώσεις τις δουλειές σου. The apparition kindly gestures with its head for Avallac'h to come. Έλα, αγόρι μου, έχω κάτι νέο για να σε διδάξω. Albus says as he takes a step in the direction Avallac'h hadn't been going. Avallac'h can't help but take a step closer
His heart stops, his mind reminding him of a sorrowful truth.
Albus is dead.
The dampness that lines his eyes builds up again until another mournful tear falls. Albus is dead. Has been for years. This is not his tender-hearted mentor.
Avallac'h takes a step away, looking over his shoulder and noticing, for once, the distorted brightness of what must be a way out. Where is Hälla? Looking back at the figure, Albus' image has stopped moving, watching Avallac'h closely. It sends an unpleasant chill up Avallac'h's spine.
Αβαλάκ, τώρα. There is no longer a smile, and the voice is stern. Avallac'h shakes his head, fighting back the pain and grief. He turns away.
I'm going to need witch hazel, yarrow—
"Hälla?"
Everyone fails, Cousin. It's what you do with that failure that really matters.
"Hälla!" He calls out more forcefully as he finally lays eyes upon her familiar coat. Both of them seem to have gravitated towards what appears to be a lit path. The moment her head jolts to look at him, he is telling her they need to go.
This place isn't one he wants either of them to be. He wants to be anywhere but here, as far away from the ghosts of his past as possible.
The necklace around his neck feels heavy, keeping a watchful eye on Hälla once more and feeling no shame in doing so..
@Hälla , @Official Dawn Account
Speech
Choice: Continue through the fog onto the light
It calls for them both, and they are both powerless to resist what beckons them deeper down the forested path.
All the while, he could not resist the temptation that begged for him to look over his shoulder and glance at Hälla to ensure she was still close. The act was only done a handful of times until his anxious mind begged him to settle and trust that nothing would happen to either of them. He willed himself to obey, to tamper down on this inexplicable desire that asked for him to keep gazing at her.
All was well, and answers were still asking to be caught.
Just as the breaching sunlight found her own touch-starved skin, so did it find his own. Glancing upward, through the wicked branches that attempted to catch what light it could and bar it from ever getting through. Avallac'h marks the time of day, trying to quickly surmise just how much time has passed since they both heard those unearthly words that had passed their ears like the gentlest of breezes.
Contemplating, with ears held back in thought, he is an unknowing fool to what is occurring around.
Until the light above begins to fade.
As quick as the sudden call of a bugle, as swift as the blazing life of a crackling flame—his head turns to where his silent companion was, and he is met with nothing but the obscuring veil of the unexpected fog. Alarm shoots out from within the depths of his heart, causing his neck to tense and ears to stand to attention. Body turning in the direction he had last known her to be, he attempts -foolishly so- to see her.
He lifts a hoof up to take a step in the direction, "Hä—"
Avallac'h...
His hoof never falls.
Neck straining to look behind him, he is met with nothing but the heavy blanket that has come to befall him and separate him from the one he had entered this place with. (He knew that voice—one that is -was- drained after emerging from the sea. One that belonged to a woman that had helped him save those he could.
He hasn't seen her in so long.)
His heart begins to pound for a completely different reason. A reason drenched in anxiety and fear as another voice pulls his attention to his left.
Advena, Vall, you are okay?—arid desert lands, the baking heat of the sun upon his cloaked back. A pain, a strong longing, and uncontainable grief, suddenly yank on the ends of his cloak, choking him. βοήθεια! His ears twitch to pick up the call for help, the sound of a broken woman's voice piercing the deepest part of him with a poisoned dagger whose aim is always true.
Vall!
Daughter of the sea, who took him to the Mother Tree.
Always, I will have your back.
His eyes shut, for that voice is, perhaps, the hardest to listen to. Aelin-Lekha. Where have they all gone, where are they, are they safe, are they okay? He finds his feet retreating uncertainly, head turning this way and that as he attempts to regain his footing. All the while the voices persist.
They are all a resounding orchestra of musical instruments that do nothing to soothe him. They all pull on the strings of his heart, never stopping and bringing with them the pain of a father who has lost those he cares for, the shame of a soldier that has had to do unimaginable things he never believed himself capable, the guilt of a Sovereign who failed his people—
The pain of a boy that was given away by his mother and made a slave.
A ragged breath leaves his lungs, stifled by the tightness in his throat as he forces himself to move. (Has he been moving this entire time? Or has he been rooted in place, falling prey to the wretched voices of memories he would sooner wish to forget?)
I know no Avallac’h... Forgive me sir, you must have me confused for s-someone else. It hurts to hear, to remember that conversation that ended in nothing but pain and misery. My name is Lekha! No, no. That was not her name.
Where was Hälla?
You say that as if I had a choice! You were quick to lock me away. Tuck away the problem... it's bound to fester. You are just as much at fault as I am. Blame me, hate me, hurt me if you want, but you'll never get over it if you don't forgive yourself.
How could he ever forgive himself?
Advena—Vall, I thought you gone as vell. Dead, taken by the— they took my people, Advena. Nothi! They took my home. Everything, It is all gone…
He knows—he knows and understands.
A choked sob almost managed to escape him, but he beats it into submission with a weapon forged from pain and anger he has not wielded in years. He makes the weight around his legs, the heavy chains, release him and let him slowly go. The tide of emotions that have built up behind his eyes, which has managed to break free and cause a few tears to run down his stained cheeks, does not make him falter. He is getting out.
But where is she?
The old king bares his teeth then as a murky apparition, something he believes to be a simple conjuring created by his own mind, emerges from within the hidden depths of the fog. Alarm, pain, is what makes Avallac'h stumble backward, the unmistakable formation of horns upon the wraith poised to strike.
They never do, and he is instead met with nothing more than the weightless breeze.
Inhaling, he looks in the direction the fog's creation had just been. Now, there is nothing. Panic tells him to hurry, to get out before the memories become too much. Whatever lingers in the abyss, beyond the unbreakable walls created by the fog, Avallac'h wants nothing to do with. He had been foolish to try and seek answers he has no right to gaining.
He moves, but his hope of making progress is cut short when his steps come to an immediate halt as his eyes fall upon the unmistakable image of the one that practically raised him.
The man, enslaved just as Avallac'h had been when he was but a boy, seems to be looking off into the distance, at something that Avallac'h's own eyes cannot see. This figure needs no color, no refined details for Avallac'h to remember the eyes the other bore, different from Avallac'h's own despite the Oracle having been a mage himself. He also does not need anything more to make out the clear form of a necklace, wrapped around his mentor's neck three times.
It was the very same necklace Avallac'h currently wore.
One of the foggy apparition's ears waves in Avallac'h's direction, as if it could hear the way his heart pounded against his ribs. It's head then turned, and it seems like it was just the other day that Avallac'h was looking at the smile he sees appear on the face of his mentor.
Εδώ είσαι, the man, guardian— Albus says, Σε περίμενα να τελειώσεις τις δουλειές σου. The apparition kindly gestures with its head for Avallac'h to come. Έλα, αγόρι μου, έχω κάτι νέο για να σε διδάξω. Albus says as he takes a step in the direction Avallac'h hadn't been going. Avallac'h can't help but take a step closer
His heart stops, his mind reminding him of a sorrowful truth.
Albus is dead.
The dampness that lines his eyes builds up again until another mournful tear falls. Albus is dead. Has been for years. This is not his tender-hearted mentor.
Avallac'h takes a step away, looking over his shoulder and noticing, for once, the distorted brightness of what must be a way out. Where is Hälla? Looking back at the figure, Albus' image has stopped moving, watching Avallac'h closely. It sends an unpleasant chill up Avallac'h's spine.
Αβαλάκ, τώρα. There is no longer a smile, and the voice is stern. Avallac'h shakes his head, fighting back the pain and grief. He turns away.
I'm going to need witch hazel, yarrow—
"Hälla?"
Everyone fails, Cousin. It's what you do with that failure that really matters.
"Hälla!" He calls out more forcefully as he finally lays eyes upon her familiar coat. Both of them seem to have gravitated towards what appears to be a lit path. The moment her head jolts to look at him, he is telling her they need to go.
This place isn't one he wants either of them to be. He wants to be anywhere but here, as far away from the ghosts of his past as possible.
The necklace around his neck feels heavy, keeping a watchful eye on Hälla once more and feeling no shame in doing so..
Speech
Choice: Continue through the fog onto the light
