11-14-2025, 01:59 AM
Winter nears its end and like the tide Starros is pulled back to where he has been before. His endless wandering has a rhythm to it now over the years and he finds comfort in seeing the same places in Beqanna at the same time of year. The silver-moon cove where he enjoys the summer, the autumnal painting that the forest becomes, the sweet winters of the south and quiet cold of the ruins. Spring tugs him towards the meadow, with the long grasses and slow-budding trees that erupt first in a faint whisper of green then grow louder and louder with it as the season ages.
Today, though, it is still cold and frosty here beneath the early morning sky where the inky blue hues are only just beginning to lighten. He has hopes for this spring, feels as though there is a chance to thaw himself from the seclusion he has walled himself within over the years. But even if it doesn’t, the winds will change and he will follow the migration path he has adopted for himself and move on.
It’s a comfort to know those habits will always be there to catch him should the secret hopes inside of his heart prove to be just as impractical this year as they have been since he was young.
Without the light of the sun, the self-made sunlight is dim around his feathered wings – appearing just as a gentle glow that catches on the soft metallic feathers.
He daydreams beneath a barren oak, resting after his travels and content to spend this first morning in the meadow quietly. But daydreaming has always been an active thing for Starros and though his light tricks are weaker, just ghosts of what they can be in the daylight, his mind still conjures those ghosts. Two pale, phantom-light deer bound through the frosted grass nearby and he watches them without seeing – allowing his mind to wander wherever it wishes.
Today, though, it is still cold and frosty here beneath the early morning sky where the inky blue hues are only just beginning to lighten. He has hopes for this spring, feels as though there is a chance to thaw himself from the seclusion he has walled himself within over the years. But even if it doesn’t, the winds will change and he will follow the migration path he has adopted for himself and move on.
It’s a comfort to know those habits will always be there to catch him should the secret hopes inside of his heart prove to be just as impractical this year as they have been since he was young.
Without the light of the sun, the self-made sunlight is dim around his feathered wings – appearing just as a gentle glow that catches on the soft metallic feathers.
He daydreams beneath a barren oak, resting after his travels and content to spend this first morning in the meadow quietly. But daydreaming has always been an active thing for Starros and though his light tricks are weaker, just ghosts of what they can be in the daylight, his mind still conjures those ghosts. Two pale, phantom-light deer bound through the frosted grass nearby and he watches them without seeing – allowing his mind to wander wherever it wishes.
@Empyreal