ira
There are days, after a long hunt, when he comes to the market and sells his wares. The routine, habitual and familiar, soothes him; but once the ritual fulfills itself, Ira feels overcome by a sort of emptiness. He goes into the woods to hunt—sometimes, for days at at time. Then, he comes to the market to sell the hides of beautiful, remarkable animals.
But after that point—after he has sold them—his purpose escapes him. Instead, Ira feels haphazard, and directionless. This emptiness manifests in many ways and different behaviors; tonight, he finds himself standing beside a statue in the city’s center, where he can watch the comings and goings of other Denoctians. This, too, has become a part of Ira’s ritual; he finds the constant motion and near chaos as soothing as his routine.
Perhaps it is childish of him to paint himself into their stories; into the quarrels of lovers and friends, or the elderly couple that walks down the street. In Denocte, he and his father had always been alone. Ira had trouble reaching out to make friends and spent much of his time alone, in the forest. Some time ago, Saige had begun a journey throughout Novus, exploring the other Courts—and when she left, his whole life quieted.
Ira doesn’t know how long he stands there before a particular man captures his attention. Perhaps it is for his brightness; the gold bangles on his legs, the thick necklace at his throat, or the gleaming rings on and around his face. Ira watches him, recognizes him, and at last says: “You are a soldier.” The statement is the observation of a quiet, watchful young man. He adds, a little curiously: “Why did you choose to be that?”
He had never been adept at small-talk. The fountain fills the silence he does not yet know how to, and Ira attempts to reign in his discomfort.
@Renwick / speaks / notes
