thoughts are the shadows of our feelings -
always darker, easier, simpler
always darker, easier, simpler
A
lthough young, Ira has spent more time than he would like to admit visiting the medics and doctors of Denocte. The first visit had been when he was little more than a leggy colt; he had taken a fall in the unfamiliar mountains and had very nearly sworn to never venture within them again.His father forbade it. Limping, the next day, they returned to the trees. Ira harbored a fear of the forest for months, after; but each day it gradually faded, until the fear became something deeper, more inherent to who he was. You cannot love a thing, truly, unless you are prepared for it to hurt you, his father once told him.
Ira remembers the words, rather fondly, as he seeks out Luvena in the crowd. He knows there is bitterness to accompany any joy; but sometimes combining that knowledge with ones understand of life becomes difficult. Even more so, Ira realizes, since becoming Sovereign. The actuality is a strange one, foreshadowed his father’s preoccupation with duty. Everything his father had ever taught him—
The newly crowned Sovereign exhales, deeply. Enough of that, he tells himself. He knows he should not have ventured so far, alone, to check his traps one last time. He knows he should have been more careful in removing them from the forest and the trees. But mistakes happen, especially when his mind wanders. “Luvena,” Ira calls out, through the crowd. His search has been postponed by citizens stepping forward to talk to him; but at last, he has found who he was looking for. Ira smiles, albeit a little sheepishly. He cannot become a man overnight; the expression remains boyish, almost guilty so. “I got a rather nasty gash in the woods again. You think you could patch me up?”
