03-25-2018, 02:37 AM
So, something is happening. Helping K’yarie and Waker and their third, nameless, friend in the forest had been a good decision, after all. Seiji is a paradoxical thing now, black and gold, soft and curious, on the heels of this new gathering. Keenly aware he doesn’t belong here; the Rift will never own him. It claims no purchase in his heart, not even now, not even with the golden light of Solanis limning his otherwise inky features. It never will; he thinks of the crashing of waves as he walks. Different gatherings: the master’s helpers flitting through the trees, along the rock wall. Colored lights blooming as the sun disappears. Muted voices. Touches on his flanks and shoulders. Homesick. He makes a gallant effort to hide the feeling. His steps are measured, light and graceful. His dark eyes lifted to the strange, shimmering creature who leads them. He doesn’t know her. No one yet speaks her name. Something in him yearns to know it, to know if she holds the answer to the only question he cares about, but even if she did he cannot ask. And even if he asked, why should she tell? He resigns himself to observation, now. A celebration is a good place to learn, after all. He mingles. Music emanates from somewhere, sweet and dreamy. Seiji wonders if he ought to approach those he recognizes, or those he does not. He settles for wandering, his footfalls unconsciously even with the rhythm of the music, his eyes flicking from one reveler to the next, up along the spire, the blue light emanating from within. Mistrust makes him light on his feet. |