A gentle summer night spreads over the coast of Tephra. The soft swish of large leaves swaying in the cooling night-breeze is its own lullaby, complemented by the soft song of tropical insects and sleepy birds. It’s peaceful in Claudius’ homeland, as it almost always has been since the last great war Beqanna has seen. When he looks up, he sees the passing figures of twin dragons and smiles, only ever knowing the creatures as guardians despite Tephra’s dark history.
It’s perfect—this night. The kind of night that defined most of his upbringing and early adulthood. Claudius often reminisces, his mind in distant times and places simply so he might retain the optimism keeping his heart strong. At his brightest, he exists on a spiritual high, full of riddled wisdom and warm smiles—at his darkest, he remembers the colors of fresh and dried blood, the salty taste of warm tears, and the heart wrenching cries of his mother.
All things together, is what he tells himself. All things together make for who I am.
All things being the rare visits from his cursed father. All things being the warm, reassuring lilt of his mother’s voice. All things being rejection, even on those warm Tephran nights.
It is not a Tephran night that Claudius now wanders through. Though summertime and warm, the brilliant colors of the dying sun are muted by the distant rumblings of a humid thunderstorm. Claudius peers at the sky, in the direction of the rolling clouds, soft chin lifted in observation. His eyes—usually the softest periwinkle—glow with the fire of the passing star. Somewhere in the tree line across the meadow, a bird calls a warning of the approaching weather.
When the rain comes, he will be ready for it.
