one sword out of many.
Time had a way of moving that defied the mind’s conception; sometimes so slowly that each day we ache with anticipation of the future. Other times, even the most monumental of moments seem to slip away before we can grasp the gravity of them. Even the sun and moon are held hostage by this phenomenon and seemingly unaware all the while. It was when Blyse found himself wedged between those two dissident movements of time that he became truly convinced of them. Because from the time he first unfurled his wings to leap from the dirt of his homeland for the very last time to the moment where he stood before a castle of stone that begged him to come nearer, there was just a blur. But now, time stood almost so still that he thought he was the only thing in motion. And oh how he ached with anticipation. So much, that his steps quickened the nearer he got to her gates and even more so when he crossed her threshold.
He knew that now was the time to banish the thought of a homeland other than Denocte. He started growing in to a sense of belonging once he had discovered the ability of illusion in him that only his time in Denocte had brought out. At first, he had denied it just as he denied coming to Denocte the first time he had the chance. He didn’t know half of the things about Novus back then than he knew now. And he still knew very little by comparison to its lifelong citizens. To only himself would he admit that he was regretful for not following the delicate beast that first invited him to Denocte. What is the saying? Better late than never? That, too, was a monumental moment that whisked by in the blink of an eye. He hadn’t wanted a home yet. He hadn’t wanted for much, in fact.
Now he wanted nothing more than to control his illusions as he controlled all other things in his life. As he passed between the keep’s sentinels, he remembered where he first learned to take control: in the ranks of steel-minded militants. Blyse believed discipline and grit would take his illusions where he desired them to go. That is what he came for. The keep beckoned him deeper in to her walls with promises of the future he wanted. He eagerly obeyed.
In her walls, he found he was not the only thing moving after all. Night brought the castle to life, so much so that in some parts the citizens brushed shoulders as they went about their business. He didn’t care for the bustle or the noise, truth be told, but a thriving city gave promise to his purpose. How dare he complain? He studied faces, studied wings, studied carvings in the stone and the colors on the banners. Time was creeping after all. That made it feel like there was more of it to spare. Blyse took it all in—the sights, the smells, and the sounds. Faint whispers and loud cries and…the rattling of chains.
His eyes snapped in the direction of that familiar sound and through thinly-parted iron gates he saw only a silhouette. He didn’t hesitate. Blyse slipped between hurrying bodies and pushed passed the gate, which groaned in an angry protest. He briefly wondered if sound could be masked with an illusion. If it could, he would learn to do it. What he saw beyond the gate was a garden, thick with dark green foliage and blooms of indiscernible colors. This was no longer something strange as everything in Denocte thrived without light. In its midst, caped in chains and wielding her dagger, an acquaintance that had been all too brief.
“Isra.” He said simply, his focused gaze bidding hers to come meet it.
@Isra
He knew that now was the time to banish the thought of a homeland other than Denocte. He started growing in to a sense of belonging once he had discovered the ability of illusion in him that only his time in Denocte had brought out. At first, he had denied it just as he denied coming to Denocte the first time he had the chance. He didn’t know half of the things about Novus back then than he knew now. And he still knew very little by comparison to its lifelong citizens. To only himself would he admit that he was regretful for not following the delicate beast that first invited him to Denocte. What is the saying? Better late than never? That, too, was a monumental moment that whisked by in the blink of an eye. He hadn’t wanted a home yet. He hadn’t wanted for much, in fact.
Now he wanted nothing more than to control his illusions as he controlled all other things in his life. As he passed between the keep’s sentinels, he remembered where he first learned to take control: in the ranks of steel-minded militants. Blyse believed discipline and grit would take his illusions where he desired them to go. That is what he came for. The keep beckoned him deeper in to her walls with promises of the future he wanted. He eagerly obeyed.
In her walls, he found he was not the only thing moving after all. Night brought the castle to life, so much so that in some parts the citizens brushed shoulders as they went about their business. He didn’t care for the bustle or the noise, truth be told, but a thriving city gave promise to his purpose. How dare he complain? He studied faces, studied wings, studied carvings in the stone and the colors on the banners. Time was creeping after all. That made it feel like there was more of it to spare. Blyse took it all in—the sights, the smells, and the sounds. Faint whispers and loud cries and…the rattling of chains.
His eyes snapped in the direction of that familiar sound and through thinly-parted iron gates he saw only a silhouette. He didn’t hesitate. Blyse slipped between hurrying bodies and pushed passed the gate, which groaned in an angry protest. He briefly wondered if sound could be masked with an illusion. If it could, he would learn to do it. What he saw beyond the gate was a garden, thick with dark green foliage and blooms of indiscernible colors. This was no longer something strange as everything in Denocte thrived without light. In its midst, caped in chains and wielding her dagger, an acquaintance that had been all too brief.
“Isra.” He said simply, his focused gaze bidding hers to come meet it.
@Isra
