04-06-2017, 02:16 AM
Canaan
so often times it happens that we live our lives in chains,
The wind was every bit as much of him as the blood that thrust through his veins or the marrow in his bones; it had been a part of him for as long as his memory could recall. He wielded it with the sheer will of his own mind, controlling its strength and presence and many times without intention. It is a comfort to him, to feel a gentle breeze entangling itself within his two-toned mane, to feel the enveloping power of a harsh gust urging him along. The soft whistle of the air weaving its way between the russet feathers that line the broad plane of his wings soothes him, and even as though the atmosphere is unpredictable, there are very few moments in which he is content to simply be left with the stillness of stagnant air.
Though the zephyr has risen without his conscious will, it sweeps down along the winding course of the river, cascading alone the unknown figure standing before him, intertwining in her dark tresses. He can hardly stifle a chuckle in the thickness of his throat – hardly anyone knew he was capable of harnessing the wind; he supposed that unless he was using it to control the actions of another, it mattered little.
His dark eyes study her for a long moment, observing the bridge of her nose and the hollow of her cheek, a flicker of recognition within the golden flecks of his gaze. ”You were in Tephra,” he muses softly, a warm smile lingering. ”I think you know my father, Magnus. I feel like I remember seeing you.” A pause, as his gaze searches the thick line of vegetation, the jagged line of worn stone and the river itself.
”Not to worry – I am only standing watch. I don’t care much for politics, at least not at this stage in my life.” His voice is thick, and rich with amusement. ”I see the river as a refuge. A place to come and go, but to call home when needed. You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.”
and we never even know we have the key.