02-09-2018, 10:18 AM
”That was real?” Khaedrik´s coat was glossy with youth and sweat. Turning his head up to look into his sister´s face was a strain on his neck. But his beetle-black eyes glow faintly, the spiral of shadows subdued by childlike gratitude. He remembers, of course he remembers. She has always been there, protecting him, even in his dreams. He wonders how it would have been like to have this conversation with mother – a futile effort, certainly, for the mud-brown mare´s features rarely added any meaning to his conversation; stark, empty features which were in no way disinterested, but insurmountably distant nonetheless.
The monster slinks back into darkness and nightmares; the slate-eyed gaze with its scrutiny and weighted judgements was hidden in the shadow of the elm under which it rested. Khaedrik thinks, with the vague touch of fantasy that pervades children, that together – the two of them could conquer the world. Things are different with her. She is not the light to balance out his darkness, but the force, strong and impenetrable, that tethers him to this world. She would only have to whisper a command – and he would obey.
He rests his golden cheek against her chest, and there is something fallaciously normal to the sight of the two; the epitome of brotherly love and adoration, and yet – below the surface of those glimmer-dark eyes, something far more wicked. Now and then he can feel the sweet hot brush of magic along his nerves, and he closes his eyes in fealty and wonder at her words. The air presses close and shimmers tight with the presence of his shadows. They do not show themselves to him, but he can see their ink-black faces reflected in the simple curve of Hyaline´s earth. Perhaps Kagerus can follow Khaedrik´s gaze, and perhaps she knows the mystery of those shadows, and the chimerical magic that they have, can and perhaps will again provoke. Perhaps Kagerus knows all these things and more.
”I´m not afraid of them when I´m with you.” His voice holds no hidden midden meanings, but simple statement, and not a small sense of wonder. He turns back to her, tearing his eyes away from darkness and penumbra and resting once more on the silver-shine of her face.
”Take me with you, please!” His voice holds the hushed anticipation of a child.
Trusting. Always trusting.
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