atlas,
i hope you know where you're going, but you're just as lost as me
you walk with such conviction and I'm eyes-closed following
‘Worst critics’ was a very polite way of phrasing ‘self-loathing’, Atlas imagined, though he did not say so. He simply nodded and cast his gaze around them, looking out over the moonflowers as they bobbed their white blooms in the night air. It had taken him a long time to achieve a sort of serenity, a peace with his past crimes; it was a balancing act, of sorts: on one side of the scale was his desire to do and be good, and on the other, the black weight of his history. Intermingled it made for a low-burning hatred, directed at himself.
Atlas watched Willoughby’s eyes light up and the smile brighten across her face and it heartened him. He knew himself to be slightly bland, if not boring, and certainly not to everyone’s tastes. She curstied back to him and hinted at her nobility, or lack therein-of. In his homeland, the wealthy very rarely ever partook in such a display of difference, and when they did, it was an embarrassment-- at least, according to Nashira. She’d made him curtsy until his knees ached and he walked off-kilter for the next week.
You need to learn what it’s like, she’d said, to be down in the dirt.
She proclaimed herself to also be a wanderer and he felt the warmth of a kindred spirit. Though, when she asked about his willingness to educate, she unwittingly opened the floodgates. “The Dawn Court is famed for intelligence and discovery; theirs is a collection of puzzling and thinking minds. Day Court is more for warriors and survivors, though that is an intelligence in and of itself. The people of Dusk Court are more mysterious and harder to read-- though, as a rule, they are generous and caring souls. Night Court is the one I’ll admit I’m the least familiar with, as they are fiercely protective of their people and traditions.” There was much more, and he could go on-- but that would be bordering on a eulogy and no one liked that, so he cleared his throat and said: “Officially, I belong in Dusk Court. That’s where I landed, and they opened their arms and accepted me without question. But now… now I’m unsure as to where I belong.” He lowered his head, chin scraping a blossom. “There has been so much upheaval lately. Even close knit communities have been cleaved asunder. It is hard to find a place to… to fit, without feeling like some sort of… social vulture?” he finished lamely, searching for the right allegory.
Atlas watched Willoughby’s eyes light up and the smile brighten across her face and it heartened him. He knew himself to be slightly bland, if not boring, and certainly not to everyone’s tastes. She curstied back to him and hinted at her nobility, or lack therein-of. In his homeland, the wealthy very rarely ever partook in such a display of difference, and when they did, it was an embarrassment-- at least, according to Nashira. She’d made him curtsy until his knees ached and he walked off-kilter for the next week.
You need to learn what it’s like, she’d said, to be down in the dirt.
She proclaimed herself to also be a wanderer and he felt the warmth of a kindred spirit. Though, when she asked about his willingness to educate, she unwittingly opened the floodgates. “The Dawn Court is famed for intelligence and discovery; theirs is a collection of puzzling and thinking minds. Day Court is more for warriors and survivors, though that is an intelligence in and of itself. The people of Dusk Court are more mysterious and harder to read-- though, as a rule, they are generous and caring souls. Night Court is the one I’ll admit I’m the least familiar with, as they are fiercely protective of their people and traditions.” There was much more, and he could go on-- but that would be bordering on a eulogy and no one liked that, so he cleared his throat and said: “Officially, I belong in Dusk Court. That’s where I landed, and they opened their arms and accepted me without question. But now… now I’m unsure as to where I belong.” He lowered his head, chin scraping a blossom. “There has been so much upheaval lately. Even close knit communities have been cleaved asunder. It is hard to find a place to… to fit, without feeling like some sort of… social vulture?” he finished lamely, searching for the right allegory.
