I want to be with those who know secret things
or else alone
or else alone
Isra feels like an eruption too, he thinks, but not one that’s happened yet. She is a thing that’s building, being made, folding and refolding as she forges herself into - what? Something beautiful, something terrible, something evil men should be afraid of.
He wonders if the gods are afraid of anything.
The king is grateful for her touch, which cools him like a sea breeze and steadies him like a hand. But it is her words he smiles for, a wry thing curled in the corner of his mouth, for they both know she has been brave below the stars a thousand times already. He says nothing, only drops his muzzle in the slightest of nods, and turns as she does back to the open water and the distant island.
His smile is still lingering at her question, though all the warmth has left it in the face of that reaching black cloud. “I would have said yes, once,” he answers, and there is no fear in his voice, either. Fear, he is finding, is a choice - and they don’t have the luxury of options, today. The dark death will come for them or it will not. It will be the end or it will not. It leaves him feeling strangely peaceful, despite the bird-quick stutter of his heart, and every instinct pleading run.
He is still watching the sea when he speaks again, soft and low, the ocean reflected in his eyes. What is the plan if it doesn’t?”
@Isra
He wonders if the gods are afraid of anything.
The king is grateful for her touch, which cools him like a sea breeze and steadies him like a hand. But it is her words he smiles for, a wry thing curled in the corner of his mouth, for they both know she has been brave below the stars a thousand times already. He says nothing, only drops his muzzle in the slightest of nods, and turns as she does back to the open water and the distant island.
His smile is still lingering at her question, though all the warmth has left it in the face of that reaching black cloud. “I would have said yes, once,” he answers, and there is no fear in his voice, either. Fear, he is finding, is a choice - and they don’t have the luxury of options, today. The dark death will come for them or it will not. It will be the end or it will not. It leaves him feeling strangely peaceful, despite the bird-quick stutter of his heart, and every instinct pleading run.
He is still watching the sea when he speaks again, soft and low, the ocean reflected in his eyes. What is the plan if it doesn’t?”
@Isra
Asterion.
