[Worship] zanarkand. [tw]

[Eik]

She turns to face him, twilight illuminating the raw emotion on her face better than the sun ever could. It is surprising how heavy his heart feels at the sight of her. It takes a moment for it to sink in, this heaviness. It feels a bit like watching a stone drop to the bottom of a deep pool. He is taken aback, unsure of what to say or do next.

(You are useless, full of nothing but questions, you have nothing for her, you are nothing but webs spun from words, a thousand ands, an endless run on sentence because how do you
stop yourself from
thinking
)

She asks him if he thinks the gods After a moment too long, "I do not know." He thinks he does know, but does not say so. How easy it would be to console her with a lie-- but the best he can do is to not speak the truth. He doesn't know why he cares so for the woman's feelings. It is likely that reflected in her otherworldly eyes he sees something like his own soul.

She seems to be folding in on herself, or is that another trick of his mind? The whisper inside himself says There is nothing here but magic unchecked, wild but quiet. There are no answers but what the wind whispers. There is no path to walk. No one is listening. And if they are, that's all they're doing. He wants to tell her a pretty lie, something to sew her back together, but the words are lodged in his throat.

All of it- the ethereal mare before him, the sharp pain that lies between them, the reverence of this space- he wonders if he's slipped again, in his mind, to the other side of the coin. He wonders if she is a part of his imagination that's run away and come back to him with a mind of its own. A chill runs across his spine, and he is not so sure the biting cold is the cause of it. "What are you?" He breathes, before he can think of the question. And then, before she can reply, "I am no god," A small twitch of his lips, as though he's chewing his words. "And I don't think I will have any answers for you. But I can listen." He looks up, meeting her tearful eyes with his own, mournful ones. "For what its worth."

---

@Thaleia