[P] Wash my soul

[Eik]

"Eternal sunrise, eternal sunset, eternal dawn and gloaming, on sea and continents and islands, each in its turn, as the round earth rolls."

- - -

He can smell the ocean on him and it stirs that ache in his legs, that tickle at the back of his head. He thinks of the sea, endless and restless, and all the mystery beneath it. How it feels like his own mind when he stands perfectly still, eyes closed, feeling the blood pulsing like waves through his body. He yearns for something but is not sure what it is. He cannot find it in the walls of the day court, much as he's tried. Their patterns intrigue and baffle him-- he's come to believe with certainty they are no natural thing, and thus their secrets are of no use to him. They will not help him to lift the veil, to see reality as it really is.

He wanders as he thinks, an old and sometimes dangerous habit-- though it is less thinking and more brooding. It is a rather gloomy state of mind, inevitably leading to the darkest parts of himself, but there is an allure to it. He is the type to wade further and further into the ocean, insistent on discovering just how deep it is.

As he looks up he is surprised to find himself nearing the mountain he can see from his new home. He isn't sure what its name is, if it has one, or why everyone is drawn there. Their attraction to it is what has kept him away until now. As he ponders it, a young mare comes in to view-- she is the color of a particular desert sunrise, the time before the sun shows itself, when a band of warmth sits on the horizon and the sky above it has just opened its blue eyes. Before the sky is blown to hell with brilliant colors. He stares, still unaccustomed to the flamboyant colors and accessories of this place, looking away only when she catches him, breaking his enchantment.

He remembers the ache he found in himself and breathes in deeply.

"Gud Evening, miss." His voice is river pebble smooth; it is his fathers voice, and his father before him. He speaks with a slight accent, a clipping of certain letters and a different inflection. It is different but not unpleasant.  "You will go up there?" He asks, skeptical. It is clear from his voice that he has no clue what the appeal is.

He looks to her, then to the peak above them. The way seems well maintained and certainly well used, but she frankly seems so delicate he fears she'll break herself on the rocks. Perhaps he is confusing her coloring, the colors that last for a brief moment during a very particular sunrise, for her disposition. He is complex in many ways, yet almost childishly simple in others. "It will benight soon enough. Let me accompany you." 

He does not consider that she has her reasons for being here, alone, at this time, in the place she clearly knows better than him. It also does not occur to him that it is he she would be afraid of. He, the scar-speckled stranger who was oogling her just a few minutes ago. He simply sees a young woman, alone, with nightfall approaching. Like I said, childishly simple.

-  -  -

E I K

@Tirzah fweee