02-20-2021, 10:08 AM
it's a mystery to me
we have a greed with which we have agreed. you think you have to want more than you need; until you have it all you won't be free. and when you think more than you want, your thoughts begin to bleed.
The effects of the prolonged eclipse have soaked themselves into every inch of their lives. Svedka’s ghost follows her with every step she takes; when she sleeps, the ground cracks open beneath her brother’s feet, and his voice echos in her ears until she wakes. Wishbone sees the pattern of his sides in the darkest shadows, and she hears the sound of his laugh in the wings of the glowing birds. She knows Warden has felt the loss of their brother as well, and the lines of his solemn face have become even more stoic under the weight of grief.
The darkness infects more than just Beqanna’s inhabitants — it has penetrated the ground, the sky, the plants, the ocean. Tephra has been wilting; though the volcano keeps them warm from the bitter cold, the plants still need sunlight to survive. The elephant ears’ broad leaves have withered, the tangled vines have become brittle, and most of the trees have lost their leaves. And though Wishbone has always loved the ocean, she has not strayed very far into its watery depths. She has noticed how the eclipse has affected the tides, making them rough and unreliable. The battle between sun and moon had pulled their oceans into a rhythm (a warrior’s song for the sun and moon), and now that the entities have resolved their differences, it has become chaotic.
Even now, the northwestern sea laps at the beach at random. Wishbone’s gaze moves briefly in that direction, catching the sound of a rush of several waves flowing one right after the other. Her skin prickles at the thought of having to swim to Ischia among this strangeness, and she turns back to Aquaria with hospitality in her amber eyes. “You are always welcome to stay in Tephra as long as you’d like.” It must have been exhausting to cross the dangerous waters, and she is certain Aquaria would prefer to rest before venturing out again.
Wishbone’s eyes follow the sea mare’s at her question. Their volcano, usually rising high above the horizon, seems as if it has been cut away from the sky. Darkness paints everything into irregular patterns of shadow and not-shadow (it almost couldn’t be called light). The glowing birds provide brief moments of relief, nesting among the trees or fluttering through the sky. A pair of them rise from the jungle and wind together across the sky, playing a game of chase that makes them seem like twin stars dancing in the night.
“We’re doing okay.” It would be a lie to say they are doing better than okay, but neither are they suffering terribly. “The glowing birds provide light when they are close enough, and that has helped. But our resources are running out. I’m not sure how much longer we can handle this.” Beqanna struggles beneath the dark’s weight, and Wishbone is sure what she has seen in Tephra is occurring everywhere. “As far as I know, almost everyone has been unharmed. We… I —” her throat tightens, and she clears it roughly, feeling her chest clench against the memories and emotions “— my brother, Svedka, is gone somewhere. But that’s all I know of.”
She refuses to say he is dead. Wishbone knows better — she’s experienced more than that — and her undying optimism will not admit that he is gone forever.
The darkness infects more than just Beqanna’s inhabitants — it has penetrated the ground, the sky, the plants, the ocean. Tephra has been wilting; though the volcano keeps them warm from the bitter cold, the plants still need sunlight to survive. The elephant ears’ broad leaves have withered, the tangled vines have become brittle, and most of the trees have lost their leaves. And though Wishbone has always loved the ocean, she has not strayed very far into its watery depths. She has noticed how the eclipse has affected the tides, making them rough and unreliable. The battle between sun and moon had pulled their oceans into a rhythm (a warrior’s song for the sun and moon), and now that the entities have resolved their differences, it has become chaotic.
Even now, the northwestern sea laps at the beach at random. Wishbone’s gaze moves briefly in that direction, catching the sound of a rush of several waves flowing one right after the other. Her skin prickles at the thought of having to swim to Ischia among this strangeness, and she turns back to Aquaria with hospitality in her amber eyes. “You are always welcome to stay in Tephra as long as you’d like.” It must have been exhausting to cross the dangerous waters, and she is certain Aquaria would prefer to rest before venturing out again.
Wishbone’s eyes follow the sea mare’s at her question. Their volcano, usually rising high above the horizon, seems as if it has been cut away from the sky. Darkness paints everything into irregular patterns of shadow and not-shadow (it almost couldn’t be called light). The glowing birds provide brief moments of relief, nesting among the trees or fluttering through the sky. A pair of them rise from the jungle and wind together across the sky, playing a game of chase that makes them seem like twin stars dancing in the night.
“We’re doing okay.” It would be a lie to say they are doing better than okay, but neither are they suffering terribly. “The glowing birds provide light when they are close enough, and that has helped. But our resources are running out. I’m not sure how much longer we can handle this.” Beqanna struggles beneath the dark’s weight, and Wishbone is sure what she has seen in Tephra is occurring everywhere. “As far as I know, almost everyone has been unharmed. We… I —” her throat tightens, and she clears it roughly, feeling her chest clench against the memories and emotions “— my brother, Svedka, is gone somewhere. But that’s all I know of.”
She refuses to say he is dead. Wishbone knows better — she’s experienced more than that — and her undying optimism will not admit that he is gone forever.
@[Aquaria]