tenebrae
let everything happen to you, beauty and terror, just keep going, no feeling is final
As he stands within the crowd, he remembers a girl who ran through a festival in Denote. She has ribbons in her hair, red as fire and gold as sunlight. As she ran she pretended she was a phoenix and ate from all the sugar stalls. To think of it, to remember it, brings a deep ache to the once-monk’s chest. When they disappeared, he went looking for that girl and never found her. The worlds were too vast, the times too eternal. She was gone.
So was his past.
Slowly Tenebrae rises up, out from his memory and lets this new festival, in another court, surround him. Spring scents, spring life is all around. Children still run, but none are like her… that child he almost began to see as is own, such was his love, his affection for her.
Yet like all things, that was gone too.
Tenebrae drowns in the noise, the feel, the taste of this new festival. He turns his unseeing eyes to Verenor. The peak would tower above them all, shrouded in black. As he stands, he waits, but he does not know for what. His heart is a heavy, broken thing, bound together with fraying string.
