some memories never leave your bones.
like the salt in the sea; they become a part of you
- you carry them.
like the salt in the sea; they become a part of you
- you carry them.
If he had grown up on his mother’s tales of other worlds, he might have better understood the look in her eyes and why the swamp watches her as it does. Already the land is filled with trepidation and hushed anticipation. So when she stands, her body glowing as if it belongs and yet so utterly other Tinea seems at a loss for how to hold her. Her golds are like none he has seen here. The hue of her body like no root or soil. Her shades are uniquely her own.
Wonder gleams in her eyes. It fortells the wild wood boy of all the scents that cling to her from her homeland. Her home world. Leonidas is the son of a time travelling woman. He has seen a portal open and a new world peek through. It’s breath was feral, ancient magic. In his nightmares he still tastes it. It orchestrates his wildest dreams. But that too was the day he saw his parents step into another world and disappear. Forever. He does not think of such a time. He lets those memories become lost in a secret garden overrun with discarded memories and those he does not need each day to live. He locks them away and forgets how they make him feel. He is a wild wood boy and only survival is needed here. Life is simpler when he is focussed upon that.
Yet what if young Leonidas looked past the wild weeds that encompass his memories and deep into those of his mother. Then he might see why today should be so significant. The boy would see how Time calls in an echo, here within Terrastella. Upon his lips is a smile as bright as his mother’s when she first beheld her brother amidst a midsummer storm. The way she laughed, the way she ran with her sibling through lightning and rain that fell like a sheet…
But though Leo does not look into his memories, he still plays into history’s hands as he smiles, elven, at this new, strange girl. His grin is electric, as wicked as the lightning that reaches her slim, jagged fingers across the sky for the two young horses. She pulls herself closer, her belly dark and full of hungry rumbling. Leonine eyes tip up toward the sky. He cannot see it for the canopy of green, but with every passing second the swamp falls darker, darker. Shadows creep where there were none before. They are the few things that dare to move now. The mists tremble and the boy returns his gaze to the strange girl.
Quietly he wades towards her. His movement setting the green water lapping in ripples at the girl’s toes. The mists swirl in his wake. His approach is slow, as easy as a lion, as proud as a stag. He has nothing to fear here and he does not fear a strange, other-world girl, for he was made from an eternity of other worlds. Ancient magic and Time are dust within his blood and desire in his heart. He can run better than she, he can hide better than her. Through blue eyes she watches him as fearlessly as he regards her.
One might think he would ask her where she is from. But her bones are singing and know the scents upon her skin are whispering (so much nearer to her he now is). He has an eternity to learn where she came from and he will tease the mysteries from her as if she were a flower opening beneath Spring’s coaxing fingers. Her hair does not fall across her eyes, but his does. From beneath its dark and golden veil the boy studies her like a monarch sat upon his throne or a god marvelling at the creation of another divine being.
Do you need to take shelter in a storm?
She asks her question but Tinea steals the words as they fall, they secret them away. They barely echo before they are gone. But the boy catches every syllable anyway. They are of near equal height when he finally steps out of the pool. Water runs from him in rivulets. Still that smile has not left him, but closer to her he drinks her in, studying her as if she were a new sapling. He hopes she will not go before the winter’s up.
“No,” Leonidas replies, answering her question at last. “Most prefer it and I assumed you might, but…” His eyes gleam and maybe now he speaks to the sword she once was, that did not shy from the flash of lights, the roar of men like thunder, the shock and the violence. “Have you ever seen a storm?” Run beneath it’s heavy wet tears, felt the lightning curl the hairs along your spine, felt the thunder rattle your bones… He does not say more, but his eyes glint with all the questions he did not ask. The boy’s lips forever cradle that feral, impish smirk. “Come.” He breathes, suddenly like a magician with mystery and wonder held behind his eyes and wet upon his tongue. “Let me show you something wonderful and then, if you still wish for shelter, then I will give it to you.”
The boy passes her, but his eyes tangle into hers. Gold roots within the water of her sea blue eyes. He watches her, asking her, daring her, until he turns away at last, finding a non-existant path that stretches itself out towards the edge of the swamp where the sky reaches out beyond the meadow and across the sea.
Come, Strangeling. Tinea seems to say, for Leonidas is not the only strange creature within the swamp this day.
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