LET ME SHOW YOU
what you've been missing
They've not felt close to anyone in decades, or was it centuries? The years had bled together so much over their lifetime that it had become something of a fairy tale to them to ever be close to anyone again. Friends are hard to come by in a world that would look upon them and claim 'monster' simply from look. Here, it's different, and maybe it's a place to actually call home in some way. Even as a scholar, they can share the many stories of the worlds they've belonged to, the societies they've seen and the nations that grew and fell all in the span of their lifetime. Knowledge, they know, they can at least share, and perhaps find friends along the way. Azrael seems to be one of those friends.
Head tilting back, they gaze upon the stars, ears twitching back underneath their cloak, pinned down against skull and warm flesh alike. "Yes, and no," they answer simply. "I've been around lands that are far south of here, and far north. Places from the wildest dreams someone could think up. Some have stars that I do not see here, but perhaps that is just the position of the world, and how we move on. I've seen creatures from the stars, too. Deities that shine just as brightly and carry the coats of the cosmos on their skin." If they could smile, they would. As it were, it sounds like a gentle longing in their tone. A soft whisper and delicately held admiration. They are breathless at the thought of what they've seen, but they are always so entranced by the cosmos.
They draw in a breath, gazing from star to star. They've learned the names in many tongues but it's nice to hear them in a familiar one. Head tilting, the cloak around them seems to cling to their being even in the warm summer's eve, and they find it a comforting touch more than they would have normally. Sometimes, their head is far in the clouds, but a reminder such as the whispering cloak against their body also tells them of the tales of the earth. Anything with beauty always seems to grasp their attention, including the small flowers and shells in the oceans.
"I've seen stars be born, and stars die in the night sky, fading away into nothing," they admit, voice softer. Centuries of life along this planet only reminds them of that. "Where I come from, they would have called me a Star Walker still. One that has seen many things and lived for as long as they've known. They used to weave stories of immortals when I was but a foal. . . and I had always wondered what an immortal was. I always thought it was just a star . . . I did now know it could also be a curse." Perhaps it's a steer in a strange direction, as they gaze upon the stars. But it's something itching at them. Immortality sometimes feels like nothing but a burden in their life, and now, Cicatrix realizes just what comes with it at times.
Tilting their head away from the clouds, they bring themselves back down onto earth with their thoughts. "Stars? Perhaps they would wish to walk among us, and see us. I feel that maybe they would wish to be not so alone up there." Star Walkers, it was told, were nothing but solitary beings with their immortality, and not by choice. Cicatrix is realizing more and more that they've become what had once been nothing but a far fetched tale in their youth.
Head tilting back, they gaze upon the stars, ears twitching back underneath their cloak, pinned down against skull and warm flesh alike. "Yes, and no," they answer simply. "I've been around lands that are far south of here, and far north. Places from the wildest dreams someone could think up. Some have stars that I do not see here, but perhaps that is just the position of the world, and how we move on. I've seen creatures from the stars, too. Deities that shine just as brightly and carry the coats of the cosmos on their skin." If they could smile, they would. As it were, it sounds like a gentle longing in their tone. A soft whisper and delicately held admiration. They are breathless at the thought of what they've seen, but they are always so entranced by the cosmos.
They draw in a breath, gazing from star to star. They've learned the names in many tongues but it's nice to hear them in a familiar one. Head tilting, the cloak around them seems to cling to their being even in the warm summer's eve, and they find it a comforting touch more than they would have normally. Sometimes, their head is far in the clouds, but a reminder such as the whispering cloak against their body also tells them of the tales of the earth. Anything with beauty always seems to grasp their attention, including the small flowers and shells in the oceans.
"I've seen stars be born, and stars die in the night sky, fading away into nothing," they admit, voice softer. Centuries of life along this planet only reminds them of that. "Where I come from, they would have called me a Star Walker still. One that has seen many things and lived for as long as they've known. They used to weave stories of immortals when I was but a foal. . . and I had always wondered what an immortal was. I always thought it was just a star . . . I did now know it could also be a curse." Perhaps it's a steer in a strange direction, as they gaze upon the stars. But it's something itching at them. Immortality sometimes feels like nothing but a burden in their life, and now, Cicatrix realizes just what comes with it at times.
Tilting their head away from the clouds, they bring themselves back down onto earth with their thoughts. "Stars? Perhaps they would wish to walk among us, and see us. I feel that maybe they would wish to be not so alone up there." Star Walkers, it was told, were nothing but solitary beings with their immortality, and not by choice. Cicatrix is realizing more and more that they've become what had once been nothing but a far fetched tale in their youth.
@Azrael
