pink bleeds gold / and red spills into one's heart
Terrastellans could truly throw a party, especially for such a closeted and closed off people. There was a warmth in the air that was more than the ambient heat stolen from the sun and radiated up from the sand; there were more sparks in the night than those flying off of the fire-dancers torches. It was a unity of people, hearts, and minds, clashing together and igniting, an energy generated and flashing up from truly happy people. It was something Atlas had not seen in a long time, and a balmy peace settled like a well-earned sweat within his body.
Or maybe that was just his proximity to the pyrolatry.
It was something held in many hands, like a multiplicitous sprouting fruit. It was a celebration of a turning of an age; welcoming Elena, bidding goodbye to the chaos and sadness of prior seasons; it was a dance of summer; in its finality, it was a last bastion of sanity and strength-gathering before the cold grip of winter’s glacial palm.
The stranger seemed welcoming of his intrusion, and so Atlas settled into a comfortable stance beside them. They were a curiosity, to be sure, and he was, at his heart, a scholar; but he had never been the intense, dissecting type, and so he was more than receptive to just let the mystery live. The world was vast and big and beautiful, and full of curiosities still.
He mulled over their words, nodding slightly. “Yes, I suppose fire can be fickle like that, too.” He listened to them speak of their wish to not bring misfortune to all of Terrastella and chuckled. “Stories have been spun from less, I’m sure. That would be quite the lasting legacy.”
In the limited space, he gave a half bow in response to her introduction, golden hair falling across his face. “Well met, Bel. My name is Atlas, and I fear my reasons for abstaining are far more selfish.” He winked. “I am not quite so noble as you, me and my simple mind. I fear getting burnt. I don’t much like the thought of it, as fun as playing with fire sounds.”
Not sustaining multiple degree burns for a party trick sounded much to him like making his own luck.
Or maybe that was just his proximity to the pyrolatry.
It was something held in many hands, like a multiplicitous sprouting fruit. It was a celebration of a turning of an age; welcoming Elena, bidding goodbye to the chaos and sadness of prior seasons; it was a dance of summer; in its finality, it was a last bastion of sanity and strength-gathering before the cold grip of winter’s glacial palm.
The stranger seemed welcoming of his intrusion, and so Atlas settled into a comfortable stance beside them. They were a curiosity, to be sure, and he was, at his heart, a scholar; but he had never been the intense, dissecting type, and so he was more than receptive to just let the mystery live. The world was vast and big and beautiful, and full of curiosities still.
He mulled over their words, nodding slightly. “Yes, I suppose fire can be fickle like that, too.” He listened to them speak of their wish to not bring misfortune to all of Terrastella and chuckled. “Stories have been spun from less, I’m sure. That would be quite the lasting legacy.”
In the limited space, he gave a half bow in response to her introduction, golden hair falling across his face. “Well met, Bel. My name is Atlas, and I fear my reasons for abstaining are far more selfish.” He winked. “I am not quite so noble as you, me and my simple mind. I fear getting burnt. I don’t much like the thought of it, as fun as playing with fire sounds.”
Not sustaining multiple degree burns for a party trick sounded much to him like making his own luck.
@Below Zero ! "Speech."
