"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
Memories of a long ago life still tickle at his mind, reminding him of a home he had long ago abandoned. The shadows had become his home, welcoming him in a way he had found irresistible. But still his heart yearns for something more. For a friend of flesh and blood that could offer him more than the cold comfort of darkness. What had drawn him away to begin with is now what brings him back to the land of light and life.
He lingers in the darkest depths of the forest, uncertainty dogging his every step. But that lonely longing drives him forward still, encouraging him onward. For a moment, he almost returns to his parents. He had been little more than a boy when he had first left, fleeing them for the darkness that had always called to him. But as round, golden eyes peer into the cozy comfort of their wooded den, he knows that this is no longer where he belongs. They are so full of love and light and goodness, and he is nothing but dark and shadow. He would only bring ruin to them.
Instead he closes those shadowy curtains, doing his best to ignore the ache in his heart. Doing his best to still pretend ignorance to the fact that he doesn’t belong.
Truthfully, he had never belonged.
Instead he steps from his shadows into the heart of the wood, where the light struggles to penetrate the thick of the canopy. A part of him is tempted to return the darkness of the shadowy beyond, but a more insistent piece of his lonely heart demands he stay. Even if he cannot face the world just yet.
Head drooping low, he peers into the distant forest before stepping nimbly between the roots of a massive, ancient tree. Settling onto the earth in that faint hollow, he curls in on himself until he is nothing more than an indistinct shadow with startlingly yellow eyes blinking out from impenetrable darkness.
He'd done so well recently. It'd been a good few days since he wandered as she slept. He'd been so proud of himself, too, making sure to tell her each morning how he'd stayed at her side like a good boy. How he hadn't listened to the calls of the night that sang to him, whispered and coaxed for him. The night was the most comfortable time for him, often sleeping through the burning daylight. He couldn't seem to help it. He couldn't seem to sleep when the night and shadows were awake without him.
He'd wandered this time. He hadn't meant to, and even as a quiet peace blanketed him when the night settled over his shoulders he still felt that pang of guilt. Hopefully, she would not wake to find him gone. Hopefully, he would only be gone for a moment, just a taste of the darkness. And not far.
He hoped he hadn't gone far.
The boy of shadow drifted through the trees, still as yet unaware of his magic. None of the darkness around him was from his doing, only a small boy of black craving the night. Moonlight occasionally spilled over the small white patches in his skin, but he slid out from underneath it. The moon was sweet, but he didn't want her touch tonight. Not yet.
Shadows comforted him, felt like the den he and Momma curled up in. As if she were there with him, a steady and loving guardian keeping him safe. Tonight was strange, though. There was something more, just out of reach, and he couldn't find it. He walked through small paths in the forest, as listless as a lost soul. His faded blue eyes touched gently on different things, different depths of shadows beneath the trees, around their bases, in the bushes, in their branches. Unhurried and calm, eerily solemn as he searched for the other half of himself.
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
It’s not often they wander so deep into the shadows. He had grown accustomed to having these depths to himself once. Until they had swallowed him up, those shadows, made him one of their own. Now none intrude, if he does not wish it. And perhaps that is why he had curled up in the lee of that massive trunk, peering into the forest with longing. They might intrude here. But only if the shadows call to them like they always have to him.
The moon struggles to find purchase here, and he is content with that. The moon is not the sun, but still she shines bright. Almost blinding in the open.
But only those like him would find comfort in the shadow rather than the moon. And so the boy that stumbles into his hidden glen must truly be special. He watches him with curiosity, wondering. He does not seem to know what it is he seeks, and yet he could feel the purpose. He wanders, but he is not lost. Not like the others who have stumbled upon him in the past.
He had hidden from them. The lost always fear the shadow.
He doesn’t know how long he watches. Long enough for the shadows to shift, ever so slightly. When finally he rises, it is in eerie silence. He doesn’t know when it had happened, but the shadows had embraced him, swallowing the sound of his shuffled steps and uncertain movements. He had truly become one of them.
He steps from the hollow of his sanctuary, golden eyes gleaming in the pitch of the night. Something draws him to the boy, the whisper of the shadows or the gentle and dark call of his presence, he is not certain. But he interrupts his wanderings, letting him know he is not alone.
(They’re never alone.)
“Hello,” he whispers, the softness of his voice blending with the darkness of the forest.
Normally, he was so enthusiastic, even quietly so. When comfortable, he could still talk someone's ear off with explanations of various things, describe in great detail his favorite types of magic he'd come across so far in his young life. He certainly loved magic. It was so... well, magical. He didn't have any of his own, but he didn't mind so much. He would still learn all he could about all the different kinds there were.
At night, he was different. The light in his eyes was gone, and thankfully so. The shadows and darkness were better. More comfortable. Quieter and peaceful. And home. He seemed wiser and solemn. As if he'd lived so many more lifetimes than he as a small child could count.
Shadows were timeless.
He could feel that he was getting closer, could sense when it watched him. A ghost of a smile crept over his dark lips, and his shaded blue eyes glanced around slowly again, each step so soft in the damp dirt. The forest welcomed him in its blackness, cradled him as if he'd always belonged. As if he would always belong. He could feel the shift though, so subtle, as if the forest's guardian rose to meet him. Or perhaps the night's guardian. He paused, and waited, seeing nothing but black and shadow although he sensed something more.
He wasn't sure how long he waited. Time didn't feel like it mattered anymore, or even existed anymore.
"Hello," a breath of darkness, a sweet caress of perfect gloom and quiet. Cimmerian smiled slowly, a boy whose name itself meant dark, lack of light. His head turned, and he settled on golden eyes embedded in their entwining souls of black.
"I found you," he whispered back, a grave secret that held an impish hint of excitement, dimmed down for their murmurous environment. He wanted to touch it though, touch the night that felt so tied to his heart, his every breath. This was his soul, he knew. Most people already had them, but he had to find his.
And he had.
Before he could become twisted and cause damage, so much damage.
"Are you Cimmerian?" he asked softly, unaware of any other way to confirm his soul matched him. It would have the same name, wouldn't it? How else could he know for sure? It felt real enough. There was gold instead of blue, but perhaps that was such a minor thing.
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
They had been so very alike once. When Ether had been a boy, no older than the one now before him, he had wandered the shadows, calling them friend and feeling their sweet embrace warm him to the marrow. His only friend, truth be told. A lonely childhood, but he hadn’t minded, not at first. Only as he had grown older had he realized the shadows may comfort, but they do not truly replace the living.
It had been too late for him though.
Perhaps that is what draws him to this dreamy child. There is something so familiar about him, a kindred soul that calls to him in a way he hadn’t expected. Or perhaps it is blood that calls, unbeknownst to him.
It is odd, so deep in the pitch of the forest. The world does not exist in the same way here as it does in the realm of light. As though time itself has forgotten how to breath. He had long grown used to it, so it is novel to see that forgotten wonder reflected on this boys young face. Reminding him of a time he’d been just as innocent and filled with wonder and longing for something he could never quite touch.
It’s odd, as though destiny had pulled them together. So similar, one named for the darkness and one named for the vast shadows filling the depths of the cosmos.
I found you. Ether wonders at that, as though the boy had been searching for him amongst the darkness. But he couldn’t have been, could he? Ether is alone. Always alone. But this boy looks at him as though he is the answer. A part of him wishes he could be.
He blinks when the marbled child asks him if he is Cimmerian. A mistaken identity perhaps. Slowly, he shakes his head, as though uncertain. “I am Ether,” he responds gently, sorrowfully. Perhaps he would go and find this other now. But he does not want him to leave, not yet. Perhaps he even could be Cimmerian, if he did not think too hard on it.
He frowned softly, little brows tugged inward. Was that how it was supposed to be? Maybe. He didn't really know these things. So maybe. The expression didn't last long. He was too mellowed from the perfect darkness, the comfortable night. Another slow smile spread across his mouth instead.
"Ether," he repeated in a murmur, reaching his nose out to try and catch any scent. There were none. Shadows did not have smells. He pushed forward instead, taking a careful step closer and then another, until he could touch his shadow and feel better connected. He needed to feel better connected.
"I am Cimmerian." He breathed slow, unaware that the shadows inside him were leaking onto his skin through his pores, seeking out his brother made of a deeper shadow he would never reach, could never command.
"I thought you would have my name, but you don't." He was still so soft and quiet. Just a soft puzzlement, but completely accepted as truth. His soul had a different name, a different voice, that was all. Probably was such a normal thing.
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
What should I do now?
He stares, a faint frown tugging at his lips. He doesn’t know. He never has. He has been lost for so long, all because he hadn’t known what to do. Cimmerian asks the wrong horse, the wrong questions. He isn’t sure what to say.
Perhaps he is right though. His blue and white had melted into shadow, until he had become with the the very thing he had so long sought comfort from. Perhaps he is now nothing more than a shadow. A thing of night and ether. Just like his name.
Had his parents known how very accurately they had named him? Had they always known he would become this?
Before he can think of anything to say, the earth begins to rumble beneath his feet. He flinches backwards, ears flattening against his skull as he bares his teeth. Sharp teeth, meant for cutting, not grinding. Teeth he no longer needs for vegetation.
He hears the voice, and instinct tells him to flee. Too much wrong with this world. The shadows are safe, comforting. But…
His golden gaze turns to Cimmerian. He must have felt it too. And this boy, he’s so much like him. A perfect counterpart. Perhaps he didn’t need to be lonely anymore. Perhaps he could have a friend. A companion who would love the dark and shadow as much as he. Perhaps he had been here for a reason, to find this other half of him.
He looks at the marbled child, suddenly knowing the answer to the question. “Come with me,” he says softly, pleadingly.
