The last time he came to the Tinea Swamp, he left with no intention of ever returning.
It was not the kind of place that called to him. Eik’s soul needed solid ground and a wide open sky. His thoughts needed space to unfold, to multiply, exponentially, as they so loved to do– from one sprung two. From two, four. From four, sixteen, and so on until he had so many thoughts there were not enough words, in any language, to capture them.
In the swamp he felt too close to his own mind. Claustrophobia is what they called it, he learned shockingly late in life– where he grew up, they did not have words like claustrophobia or vocation or emissary. His people were simple, and beautiful, and fierce.
(And, let’s not forget, dead. They were all dead.)
So it follows logically that Eik is not here because this place calls to him. It is not Solterra and it is not Isra and he does not feel right here. He dislikes the squelching sound his hooves make in the wet earth and the way the sound carries eerily. He has the constant sense of being watched, but every time he turns his head there’s no one there.
They said there was a witch who lived here, in the swamp. They said many things about her, ranging from reasonable to ludicrous– she was a spiritual guide that dressed herself in frog skins, she would heal all that ails you but only if you promised her your firstborn… things like that, rumors that carried a lot of superstition and absurdity but, if you picked through them judiciously, you could find bits and pieces of truth, or what seems like truth.
Eik comes with no expectations and a skeptical (but curious!) mind. He can see how the future fans out before him, many paths that weave and wander. Some are brightly lit and well traveled, others are thick with thorns and brush. He does not know where any of them lead, or which he should take. But it’s always been like that. He’s always been like that, acutely aware of all the options he must leave behind with every step forward he takes.
(and yet, how often it seems he is not walking, step by step, but floating down a river, letting something–some one– else guide the path)
But things are different now. Something has changed. (Let's say it, all together now, he’s going to be a father)
He arrives at the hut, right about where all the rumors said it would be. A gentle breeze stirs the wind chimes. Their song calls to him, makes him feel… at peace. This place is not at all what he expected it to be like.
(did we say he came with no expectations? ah, well… he thought he didn’t.)
Just as he is about to knock on the door, it opens.
and you keep telling yourself
there is no smell of war in me
but why else would this feel like madness
art by Pherigo
@Corrdelia I hope this is okay! Let me know if you would like me to change anything <3
Time makes fools of us all
