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I DO NOT BELIEVE THINGS ARE REBORN IN FIRE
I BELIEVE THEY'RE CONSUMED BY FIRE
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He awakens to the smell of ash. For a moment he thinks he's dead, swallowed in the flames with his loved ones. The excitement wakes him and his heart is off, racing away before his brain has the chance to blink and stretch and piece his thoughts together. Soon enough the memories trickle back, and with it the familiar sense of resigned despair. He raises his head from the ground (funny- he doesn't remember ever lying down) and labors to his feet with little to no grace. He grunts with the effort, feeling older than ever, and then winces as the hangover rears its nasty head.
When the nausea passes he looks around. Small fires smolder here and there, but most of them have burnt themselves out. They and the trampled ground are all that remains of the festivities from the night before- a small miracle- and
(a memory rolls in: across the fire, green eyes carefully place their empties in a row. In their gaze endless summer and roots to the core of the earth. Where did the green eyed time of year go?)
Eik shakes the sleep from his head. He takes his time this morning- days like these, reacquainting yourself with your body is no small feat. Without thinking too much about it he makes his way to the ocean, washes the sweat and smoke and winter from him, washes the spilled wine from his lips and chest, and if there are other, nameless things that he washes himself clean of... well, those too are carried away. In the end he feels a little lighter, and the world less hard to look at. A little salt and cold water does wonders.
With much of the headache chased away by the cold shock of the ocean, he feels a bit more like himself. It is late afternoon by the time he finally makes it to the court. He feels a bit anxious- maybe he should have just gone straight back to Solterra- but when he thinks of the bay man and the sea a certain feeling comes over him. Most of the time he feels like the branches of a tree, swept whichever way the wind blows. But sometimes- sometimes he feels as though he is not at the mercy of the wind or the gods or anyone.
... But that is simply the drama that blooms from time to time in his chest, the violent waves of emotion that are followed by the smooth, flat-of-the-blade calm. He leans on this calm to ignore the occasional pointed stares... even freshly cleansed by the sea, the Terrastellans somehow know that he comes from Solterra. Or at least that he comes from elsewhere.
In time he finds the man he seeks. They see each other at the same time, and Eik drags his feet to a halt. He regards the man with head tilted, examining the bay for any change in him since they first met.
"Hello friend." That word firm and warm as a handshake. It feels odd now, seeing Asterion within the walls of his court, strangers passing in the background like fish darting along the reef. But still the cerulean sky is above them and a fresh breeze blows and Terrastella is shy but welcoming to the scarred grey stallion; there is a balance.
"Are you busy?"
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AND THE FIRE HAS A LIFE OF ITS OWN
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@Asterion <333 sorry so long i'M EXCITED
