I AM MORE THAN ONE THING, AND NOT ALL OF THOSE THINGS ARE GOOD --
After walking for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been hours, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, Septimus stepped out of the woods and into a clearing.
He supposed that it could have been hours – apparently, this island was host to a god of time, or at least his relic, and, judging by the reactions of the locals, the gods of this land were very much real, physical entities, rather than the stuff of legends and myths. Septimus hardly knew how he should feel about that. What defined a god? If it were simply more powerful than a mortal, most of his family (the portion that were not mortals themselves) constituted divinity. If they were omnipresent, omnipotent – well, he supposed that the forest, which was a living, unknowable entity in and of itself was a god, but not one that anyone would worship. (It would not know what worship was.) Did that define a god – something that was worshipped? But mortals could be worshipped, and he wasn’t sure that made them a god. Did a god have to have some aspect, some representation, some duty? That seemed no different than any mortal thing off to work in the morning. Was it the immortality? He had been immortal, once. That didn’t make him a god. Perhaps it was creation, making something from nothing at all – but these gods must have bounds. He had been to lands, in the past, where the people had claimed their gods were living things, but he had never encountered one, and they were not the same as the gods of Novus. If their powers were limited by geography, were they still gods? He didn’t know.
What he did know was this: he did not trust the blue, blue pool in the midst of the clearing. Plants, with shimmering flowers that felt like they had the color and texture of oil spills, hung heavy over the banks, but their petals did not fall to disturb the surface. In fact, the surface was so perfectly still and untouched that Septimus found it suspicious. It was almost impossibly clear. He could make out every detail of the bottom – the little ridges of stone – from where he stood, several feet from the bank. However, there was no living thing in the water. The color was brilliant, a shade he had only seen in precious stones, and the clearness made it seem impeccably clean, but it was lifeless. He did not see the silver glint of sun-touched fish dashing below the surface; he didn’t even see a plant growing amongst the rocks.
Behind him were trees, hung heavy with fruit that must have been out-of-season. He could hear birdsong, and rustles in the distance, but there were no birds in the clearing. If he intended to stay here for a few days, travelling all the while, Septimus knew that he would have to eat or drink eventually, but this - this felt dangerous. There were places like these, back in the forest, and those unwary, unlucky travelers who fell for their traps would be condemned to terrible fates – to dance to death, or disappear for a hundred years to return to their families as nothing more than bleached bones, to be dragged beneath the surface by some unknown, unseen entity and devoured.
However, Septimus possessed a certain, scientific curiosity that insisted he draw closer to the shore. He didn’t want to approach, exactly, but he had to – he needed to know what secrets the water held. (Perhaps he could take a sample and analyze it later, though he didn’t know how to do so without his magic.)
Tentatively, hesitantly – his hooves all but dragging in the sand and mud – he stepped forward, towards the pool.
open! || <3
"Speech!"
After walking for what felt like hours but couldn’t have been hours, judging by the position of the sun in the sky, Septimus stepped out of the woods and into a clearing.
He supposed that it could have been hours – apparently, this island was host to a god of time, or at least his relic, and, judging by the reactions of the locals, the gods of this land were very much real, physical entities, rather than the stuff of legends and myths. Septimus hardly knew how he should feel about that. What defined a god? If it were simply more powerful than a mortal, most of his family (the portion that were not mortals themselves) constituted divinity. If they were omnipresent, omnipotent – well, he supposed that the forest, which was a living, unknowable entity in and of itself was a god, but not one that anyone would worship. (It would not know what worship was.) Did that define a god – something that was worshipped? But mortals could be worshipped, and he wasn’t sure that made them a god. Did a god have to have some aspect, some representation, some duty? That seemed no different than any mortal thing off to work in the morning. Was it the immortality? He had been immortal, once. That didn’t make him a god. Perhaps it was creation, making something from nothing at all – but these gods must have bounds. He had been to lands, in the past, where the people had claimed their gods were living things, but he had never encountered one, and they were not the same as the gods of Novus. If their powers were limited by geography, were they still gods? He didn’t know.
What he did know was this: he did not trust the blue, blue pool in the midst of the clearing. Plants, with shimmering flowers that felt like they had the color and texture of oil spills, hung heavy over the banks, but their petals did not fall to disturb the surface. In fact, the surface was so perfectly still and untouched that Septimus found it suspicious. It was almost impossibly clear. He could make out every detail of the bottom – the little ridges of stone – from where he stood, several feet from the bank. However, there was no living thing in the water. The color was brilliant, a shade he had only seen in precious stones, and the clearness made it seem impeccably clean, but it was lifeless. He did not see the silver glint of sun-touched fish dashing below the surface; he didn’t even see a plant growing amongst the rocks.
Behind him were trees, hung heavy with fruit that must have been out-of-season. He could hear birdsong, and rustles in the distance, but there were no birds in the clearing. If he intended to stay here for a few days, travelling all the while, Septimus knew that he would have to eat or drink eventually, but this - this felt dangerous. There were places like these, back in the forest, and those unwary, unlucky travelers who fell for their traps would be condemned to terrible fates – to dance to death, or disappear for a hundred years to return to their families as nothing more than bleached bones, to be dragged beneath the surface by some unknown, unseen entity and devoured.
However, Septimus possessed a certain, scientific curiosity that insisted he draw closer to the shore. He didn’t want to approach, exactly, but he had to – he needed to know what secrets the water held. (Perhaps he could take a sample and analyze it later, though he didn’t know how to do so without his magic.)
Tentatively, hesitantly – his hooves all but dragging in the sand and mud – he stepped forward, towards the pool.
open! || <3
"Speech!"
AND RARELY, IF THE WOOD ACCEPTS THE BLADE WITHOUT CONDITIONSthe two pieces keep their balance in spite of the blow❃please tag Septimus! contact is encouraged, short of violence
