my words like silent raindrops fell [eight]

no matter what they say, I am still the king

How fierce could one be when there is silence to choke them? What must it be like to be two different people – for you weren’t always like this, were you? Once, you could speak. Your voice flowed freely, you had a fight inside of you like a caged bird clamoring to be free. But now? How can you show anyone how much you’d like to chip open the door and fly away – when there is nothing but dust in your throat?
And now? Now you are demure, quiet (almost in an unsettling way). How much must you hear? How much do you drink in, while others are harping words and setting diplomatic ties and bantering about the day to day averages? Yes, you may live in the shadow of your true self - but perhaps now you are simply changing. You have wrapped your cocoon of silence around you, tightly wound so that even you may not break free. But when you do? How much of you will remain changed once your shackles of silence are gone?
It is very unlike Eight to take on responsibility – to form trust or ties or bonds. He was merely a man that fended for himself – he enjoyed the simple life of doing what he pleased, while protecting the Valley as he must. But now? Once he had become king again, it was as if his whole world had changed. He had children to care for, citizens to watch over for (and actually get to know this time around). It seemed, that among the eons of years that Eight had lived – he had finally acquiesced to something more meaningful. And so he had reached out to you – rather than shrugging off his duties once Beqanna had changed, instead he sought out those who needed him – he sought out a better place to live.
You, Aranea, were one of the few who needed him. Well, I suppose need is a bit of a stretch. There’s no falsity in saying you would have been just fine on your own – you always have. But as mentioned, there was that pull between you and Eight (from however long, whatever reason why) – and it was not of duty, but of instinct that he had sought you out and declared to stand by your side.
As you completed their last leg, finally cresting the border to their new home, Eight again feels your touch (it’s strange, how quickly you can get used to something that has been so long gone from your life). You seemed happy enough, from what Eight could read. You were relaxed, almost a lilting smile on your face, and your snort was gentled and demure – not one of anger or displeasure.
“ This, is Tephra. A land of volcano and spring. It is not very much like the Valley, but for now – it is home.” He continued to walk, a slow cavort through the new home. “Offspring, Malis, Magnus, and I will be a council for now. There will be a meeting shortly to discuss how this land will actually operate.” He looked to her briefly, again that twinge of guilt (as if somehow his loss of magic and thusly her voice, was his own doing. “Offspring is good. He fought along side me some time ago. Magnus and Malis I have sadly little knowledge about – save for she is of the Chamber and he of the Gates.”

It was strange for Eight, all this talking. He was a man of few words. And he had no doubt that you and he would have done just fine in their own type of silence. But he knew that you had few other acquaintances to question of all this, and even fewer who would understand even remotely what you may be asking.
“I have heard rumor that another magician – one who has maintained his magic – has followed Offspring here. Would you like to find him?” And there – finally, your chance for a little bit of freedom once again.

∞

and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in