[open] when do we break apart; any

[Gaius]

He is so young to have made so many mistakes already.

There is a heaviness to him as he moves through the shadows of the Forest, like a stone sinking in his chest when he fights for his breath. He had left home so early. He had turned away from the rolling green hills that gave way to jutting mountains to be replaced by endless trails of his own carving. In such a way, he has chiseled through life so far. It hasn't been easy. More than a little luck has spurred him on and kept him moving, always moving. There is no rhyme or reason to why his path has been so full of brambles.

He has created his own hardships, he is sure.

But Gaius is nothing if not resilient.

He tears through the clover patch underfoot with his weighted steps. Every one brings him closer to others. Every one reminds him that he has walked alone thus far and continuing on this way will change that. Maybe change everything. Maybe his life will be totally different if he just keeps going closer and closer. Closer still.

There had been a rainbow across the mountains when he was a child after a gold morning that gave way to violent thunderstorms. It had lit some sort of fire within him, he realizes now. Because after that day, as the sun dried out the shamrock patches and warmed the small of his back, he knew he had to find out what was at the end of it. He had to see for himself what came next. Where did that rainbow end? The next hill? The next kingdom? Beyond? Gaius fixes his gaze ahead and press on. He will find all of his answers and he will not stop until that itch of curiosity is sated. Even if it is to his own detriment. Even if he leaves behind those that care for him and he cares for in turn. He will create more hardships unwittingly, he knows.

Something catches in the corner of his eyes, a quick movement, there for an instant and gone before he is sure it had been there.

[skywalker]

Skywalker

"I don't want my life to imitate art,
I want my life to be art."
-Carrie Fisher

She takes a moment to stretch her dark wings as far as they allow, relishing the warmth of the mild spring sun on her skin. A deep inhale brings the rich, almost overwhelming, but pleasant scent of lavender to her nose and it tickles every last fiber of her being. The rabbits she played with as a child still frolic through the vegetation and for a moment, she is tempted to give chase once again. She restrains herself though, instead drinking in the beautiful scenery before her. She truly does love the Gates and she could not be happier to have found a home here.

But it is lacking in population at the moment, so her wandering foot begins to itch. Though she had wandered from the Gates long enough to become a young adult, she really hasn’t taken much time to explore Beqanna’s common grounds. But today, the epitome of a beautiful day, seems as good a time as any. She gambols about for a bit, still so childlike in her mannerisms, but the playfulness also serves as a warmup to prepare her for flight. When she feels ready, she launches herself into the sky, where she has always been supremely comfortable and confident.

Her journey cuts across the inlet that separates the Gates from most of Beqanna. At first, she toys with the idea of setting down at the Ruins, but the lonely atmosphere is detectable from every height, so she skims over them and banks hard to head north instead. She can already see the dense copse that lays before the same starry void that borders her home. The idea of finding out what sort of delightful woodland creatures lay hidden among those trees is tantalizing, so she begins her descent.

A fox crosses her path within seconds of her landing, the fluffy, white-tipped tail disappearing quickly into the Forest, and she makes a soft noise of joy as she begins her pursuit. She weaves skillfully through the trees, races on and on, spurred by occasional sightings of that tail. Then she realizes that it has been quite some time since the last sighting and her pace slows considerably. She glances around, not quite sure which direction she had come from. She is not prone to panicking, but a light finger of anxiety strokes her spine. She hears something stirring nearby, and naïve as she is, she calls out.

“Hello? Is someone there?”

IMAGE BY otis4rt

@Gaius