05-07-2023, 10:26 AM
His gaze flicks back at the sound of uncertainty in her voice, and Valdr’s green eyes narrow farther still. Everywhere is like this?
His parents had told grand tales of Beqanna, and he had been assured and reassured that his previous visit here had been an anomaly. The moroseness that he felt pervaded the very air had been his imagination, they’d told him; or perhaps he’d somehow spent his entire visit here in the area of the Beach.
And yet here he is, returned once more, and this presumably long-term resident says that it’s all like this?
But is where he’d come from really any better? Sure, there is no ever-present glumness, no oppressive scent of melancholy, but nor is there much of anything else. Just an island, and his immortal parents, and the siblings that remained. There was no future there, only an eternity of sameness.
Here, despite the ghosts, there is a chance for something new.
“I used to set fires, to see what grew back from the ashes.” The words are seemingly incongruous with what had come before, but he’s looking at the desolate wasteland around them once more, and wondering if perhaps there is something beneath it.
“Maybe this place just needs a spark.” He could be speaking figuratively, but the sparks that remain everlit in the depths of his nostrils have grown to encircle the rims of his pink nostrils, indicative of the fires he’d spoken of.
@wrena
His parents had told grand tales of Beqanna, and he had been assured and reassured that his previous visit here had been an anomaly. The moroseness that he felt pervaded the very air had been his imagination, they’d told him; or perhaps he’d somehow spent his entire visit here in the area of the Beach.
And yet here he is, returned once more, and this presumably long-term resident says that it’s all like this?
But is where he’d come from really any better? Sure, there is no ever-present glumness, no oppressive scent of melancholy, but nor is there much of anything else. Just an island, and his immortal parents, and the siblings that remained. There was no future there, only an eternity of sameness.
Here, despite the ghosts, there is a chance for something new.
“I used to set fires, to see what grew back from the ashes.” The words are seemingly incongruous with what had come before, but he’s looking at the desolate wasteland around them once more, and wondering if perhaps there is something beneath it.
“Maybe this place just needs a spark.” He could be speaking figuratively, but the sparks that remain everlit in the depths of his nostrils have grown to encircle the rims of his pink nostrils, indicative of the fires he’d spoken of.
@wrena