|
Travelling was, perhaps, the best remedy to soothe a broken heart. Lost, and entrenched in the unknown. Without worth or purpose, the open terra harbored a unique sense of abandon and recklessness. Opportunities flourished in some unseen, attainable horizon. Possibilities took root with each stroke of the wing, or rhythmic step forward. The boy – setting a pace for the ends of the earth – had become indifferent of falling off its edge or becoming consumed by its infinite possibilities. Unawares of the internal wounds, and how they had suffered without his intervention. There was nothing more to ruminate over. The winds would carry him forwards, and the slight hand of the sun – weak and starved – in these winter months, offered the physical reassurances of his existence.
When he touched down upon the Day court, within its outer regions, he was at once wary of the crowds and the people. The buildings, being both alien and marvelous, provided enough warning to the boy of its power and dominion in the land. Begrudgingly there was a caste he had yet to familiarize himself with, and a people he had to study and acclimate to. Not that he had any intention to amalgamate himself with them. There was no apparent reason for doing so, no straightforward desire to abide by loyalty fool-heartedly.
With his satchel strapped beside him, and wings tucked in just the right way - Saoirse traversed forwards into the sea of strangers. Passing through an entrance, he allowed himself to be taken away by the flow of people. Gaining an eye for their lifestyle behind the merchants, or the bartering and banter of their deals. There seemed to be some individuals lurking on their lonesome, their intentions unknown – and their purpose unclear in a casual climate. For such a grand structure, it was not remarkably decorated. Rough, and resolute in its design, gave the impression of practicality over aesthetics. He could respect that… having had very little experience in such things. But enough savvy out in the wild to realize its worth.
One thing remained on his mind. Propelling him further within its open halls, under the scrutiny of stationed guards or meandering locals. He gave them sideways glances instead - finding it difficult to find his voice, or enter their personal spaces.
He found himself instead, stopping beside a hanging tapestry. The figure of ‘Solis’ carved into the leather in intricate, bold lines and likewise colour. He was unprepared for the memories overwhelming his mind then. Transported elsewhere. His body remained still and vigilant, as his mind disembarked without protest. Buried far underneath the layers of flesh and sinew, and lost within that mysterious web of neurons sparking off in some forgotten corner of his brain.
Saoirse merely reflected a studious pupil taking note of the fabric. Without any remarkable affect, other than the intensity of his gaze and the ease for which his breathe rose and released.
| |
