There is a certain peace in finding company, when before you were alone with only your thoughts like daggers piercing your skull. Ipomoea is finding that peace in a stranger today, a strange man who’s eyes tell stories of other worlds, and other lives, and other truths.
He hopes that, one day, he might have eyes like Avallac’h.
And he hopes that, one day, he might have that peace that comes from living a full life, a good life, a life that has seen much and done more.
Ipomoea can feel his time coming (can see it catching up to him every time he looks over his shoulder and watches a teryr diving down over the horizon, or a coyote crossing his path, or a viper sunning itself on a rock.) And he can feel the gaps between all the pieces of himself growing wider, can feel the cracks and crevices growing deeper, thir edges sharper, and more jagged, and painful. On one side the desert is calling him; on the other the meadows.
And in between them the rest of the world is raising its many voices like wolves lifting their noses to the moon, and howling.
One day he will be split apart into all those pieces. One day he will have to choose which ones to take with him (he can only carry so many.) One day —
But today he finds peace in the company of a stranger and his story, as they head out together into a field that is both familiar and unknown.
He hopes that, one day, he might have eyes like Avallac’h.
And he hopes that, one day, he might have that peace that comes from living a full life, a good life, a life that has seen much and done more.
Ipomoea can feel his time coming (can see it catching up to him every time he looks over his shoulder and watches a teryr diving down over the horizon, or a coyote crossing his path, or a viper sunning itself on a rock.) And he can feel the gaps between all the pieces of himself growing wider, can feel the cracks and crevices growing deeper, thir edges sharper, and more jagged, and painful. On one side the desert is calling him; on the other the meadows.
And in between them the rest of the world is raising its many voices like wolves lifting their noses to the moon, and howling.
One day he will be split apart into all those pieces. One day he will have to choose which ones to take with him (he can only carry so many.) One day —
But today he finds peace in the company of a stranger and his story, as they head out together into a field that is both familiar and unknown.
@"avallac'h" !
just going through and closing some old threads!
”here am i!“
