The blue-black stallion sought respite from the heat of day, climbing to the heavens in search of fresher air. It wasn’t that the salt and sand of Solterra were distasteful to him – for in truth, Voltaire had long forgotten what it felt like to have something for his own pleasure and comfort. It was a place to live, plain and simple. He would serve the kingdom, because it was his duty to serve. He would heal their sick and wounded, because it was the least he could do to atone for his own sins. But he had long punished himself to the point where he could not remember what it felt like, to feel.
Still, he understood the feeling of being sticky and uncomfortable, so as he climbed the mountain, his mood became clearer and the wind was a welcome distraction from the heat. Nearing the top, his sweat stained coat shivered in the chill, a welcome change from the summer heat. And he looked around in this place of worship – knowing he was unworthy, knowing more than ever how small and insignificant his own life was as he looked down on the world that they had created, finding Solterra – red and gold against a sea of green life. Everything seemed much more in perspective from here, the least of which how little he mattered in the grand scheme.
Turning from the cliff’s edge, he found his way to the altar of Solis, seeking the one that Eden had spoken of. He would not ask for forgiveness, or even the consideration of this god – but he knew that he needed to pay his respects and show his deference to the deity which led this place where he now lived. It would not due for his cursed life to take another turn toward darkness… and he would do whatever he could to stay in the good graces of the Sun God.
He bowed his head, tipping it to the point where the jagged tip of his horn nearly brushed against the dirt at the statue’s feet, and he closed his eyes to reflect. He didn’t expect for an answer persay, as he’d gone so long in his life without the favor of the gods. But it was duty that kept him here, duty that brought him peace. Sighing to the quiet mountain, he wondered if he was even worthy to stand in this place, praying hopefully to gods he had yet to know. Would they shun him, turn him away… perhaps they would punish such a sinner for standing in their midst.
His mind was a cloud of troubled thoughts, and his lips pursed as if thinking through the consequences. Voltaire had come to this place seeking forgiveness, but if he couldn’t forgive himself, what hope did he have at deserving such things (and from the merciless sun god, of all creatures). Looking around, his ice blue eyes blinked against the ever-watching sun, a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach… for he knew the god of day saw through the flimsy mask he wore, and he knew Solterra would know him as he was.
Still, he understood the feeling of being sticky and uncomfortable, so as he climbed the mountain, his mood became clearer and the wind was a welcome distraction from the heat. Nearing the top, his sweat stained coat shivered in the chill, a welcome change from the summer heat. And he looked around in this place of worship – knowing he was unworthy, knowing more than ever how small and insignificant his own life was as he looked down on the world that they had created, finding Solterra – red and gold against a sea of green life. Everything seemed much more in perspective from here, the least of which how little he mattered in the grand scheme.
Turning from the cliff’s edge, he found his way to the altar of Solis, seeking the one that Eden had spoken of. He would not ask for forgiveness, or even the consideration of this god – but he knew that he needed to pay his respects and show his deference to the deity which led this place where he now lived. It would not due for his cursed life to take another turn toward darkness… and he would do whatever he could to stay in the good graces of the Sun God.
He bowed his head, tipping it to the point where the jagged tip of his horn nearly brushed against the dirt at the statue’s feet, and he closed his eyes to reflect. He didn’t expect for an answer persay, as he’d gone so long in his life without the favor of the gods. But it was duty that kept him here, duty that brought him peace. Sighing to the quiet mountain, he wondered if he was even worthy to stand in this place, praying hopefully to gods he had yet to know. Would they shun him, turn him away… perhaps they would punish such a sinner for standing in their midst.
His mind was a cloud of troubled thoughts, and his lips pursed as if thinking through the consequences. Voltaire had come to this place seeking forgiveness, but if he couldn’t forgive himself, what hope did he have at deserving such things (and from the merciless sun god, of all creatures). Looking around, his ice blue eyes blinked against the ever-watching sun, a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach… for he knew the god of day saw through the flimsy mask he wore, and he knew Solterra would know him as he was.
@Inkheart, others welcome!
