alecto vermillio raptis
✧
O
range blossoms across the land on the other side of the lake, leaves taking red and purple hues, yellow patches and sunset tones bickering back and forth in the wind, and Autumn sweeps through all of Novus. One tree at a time. Soon they will all fall. It is best enjoyed, the man has found, in the light of the setting sun. When that golden hour is upon the world, washing everything in a final sigh before the last breath is gone with the light. Alecto stands at the edge of the water, listening to the whisper of the breeze as it laps against his skin. The water's surface does not move. Perhaps there is some Guardian that watches over the Vitreus, stilling even the harshest of winds before they reach the surface, and only when some great and small creature from within touches the top are ripples ever-present. The stillness, he thinks, is as beautiful as it is eerie. Over the glassy reflection, the sun is a fire reflected. Two suns dying. Twice as bright and tragic.
He thinks of his sister.
He wonders if she is well.
Then, his thoughts move on. Flowing as the water from the great Arma mountains, continuous no matter the heat and chill. Traveling as time does, forward, every forward. Because Alecto cannot go back… There are places in his past he can never return. Not yet. Not like this. So he dreams a better dream and creates a reality beside the water as the light dies.
There are two suns that burn out, but he is still a blazing pyre.
a well of memories, overflowing
