Uwaritace
07-20-2018, 09:19 AM
Silence.
Kisamoa was not a great conversationalist, either. He had the power to destroy, the power to command, and was used to delivering his piece and then melting back into the shadows.
But, not today—his tall, angular frame remained beneath the barren boughs of the mother tree, his eyes slipping off the form of the silvery shaman and onto the burned trunk.
He couldn't say why he stayed.
His eyes saw the flames that had licked up her trunk when Reszo stole her. The clouds of smoke and ash that covered the sky for days, until they rained away.
Memory was a peculiar, powerful thing. He had never known her as anything but a burned tree, but he suspected she had been beautiful, marvelous, before her end. Why else would the Loricatrunc still guard her so fiercely? Why else would the Mourning Flowers grow beneath her boughs, and impress their grief upon all who came here?
Taivas spoke to him again, and the distant look in his eyes sharpened. Uwaritace was just a dead tree again, neither burning nor green, as he imagined she might once have been.
"Decay?" he repeated, glancing at the little horse for a moment. "Uwaritace just burned. I can't remember why Reszo took her here—but she came, on fire. If he wanted to save her, he was too late." The beast sighed, and shifted his weight from one aching limb to another. "The rest of the Rift is bleeding out. Helovia's gods stole our heartlands and killed our gods. I'm sure you can imagine what tearing the heart out does to a body."
And yet, if they hadn't, he wouldn't be here.
The accidental fifth presence squeezed in between four gods did not know how to feel about that.
Kisamoa was not a great conversationalist, either. He had the power to destroy, the power to command, and was used to delivering his piece and then melting back into the shadows.
But, not today—his tall, angular frame remained beneath the barren boughs of the mother tree, his eyes slipping off the form of the silvery shaman and onto the burned trunk.
He couldn't say why he stayed.
His eyes saw the flames that had licked up her trunk when Reszo stole her. The clouds of smoke and ash that covered the sky for days, until they rained away.
Memory was a peculiar, powerful thing. He had never known her as anything but a burned tree, but he suspected she had been beautiful, marvelous, before her end. Why else would the Loricatrunc still guard her so fiercely? Why else would the Mourning Flowers grow beneath her boughs, and impress their grief upon all who came here?
Taivas spoke to him again, and the distant look in his eyes sharpened. Uwaritace was just a dead tree again, neither burning nor green, as he imagined she might once have been.
"Decay?" he repeated, glancing at the little horse for a moment. "Uwaritace just burned. I can't remember why Reszo took her here—but she came, on fire. If he wanted to save her, he was too late." The beast sighed, and shifted his weight from one aching limb to another. "The rest of the Rift is bleeding out. Helovia's gods stole our heartlands and killed our gods. I'm sure you can imagine what tearing the heart out does to a body."
And yet, if they hadn't, he wouldn't be here.
The accidental fifth presence squeezed in between four gods did not know how to feel about that.
beauty in darkness
kaos in light
kaos in light
.. and kaos opened up its eyes
