[SWP] light it up

A handful of days in this place: scattering past like swan’s down in a breeze. Everything is half a dream. Seiji wonders sometimes if he might wake up, and then an anxious yearning fills him, fluttering in his chest. No name for it; just the sensation, as of an animal, trapped. Haphazard memories: of lights between trees, of winged girls and pale, distant cities. He is here, here, and he doesn’t know what to do. Before, when he was younger and unacquainted with loss, he charged recklessly forth. Fear was a stranger; it lagged behind, nipping his heels. And he - so fleet. So arrogant. He moves now between the silent fronds of shadowed ferns, his dark eyes tracing leaves larger even than his head. Somewhere here, he knows, is what he seeks… But where? And how to ask? Maybe this quest wears on him more than he knows. To be so far from home. To be alone. Always alone. Even the piece of hope he received from Kiada fails to soothe him. His thoughts: locked inside. His gait picks up, now a loose jog. If he can’t speak of his troubles to anyone, maybe he can burn them from his body with exhaustion. And he moves through lights like stars in the grass, miniature suns brushing his ankles. If only they could light for him a path. If only his own glowing satellite knew more than how to follow. He isn’t alone. Seiji hears them before he sees them. Then he stops, his haunches tucking neatly under him: so elegant a gesture, so light on his feet. As if there is anyone to watch him, now. But he stands still, his breath puffing, his ears up. Fear courses through him like an electrical current, vivid and alive. He still doesn’t know what to expect, in this place. Do its creatures mean him harm? Would they, if they knew why he came? But unable to succeed alone, he leaps into a more collected trot until they draw into view, however many of them are gathered, and then the trot melts into a kind of exaggerated walk, as if he wants to run but restrains himself. The first speaker draws into view: dark as night, a tracery of blue veins. Wings. Seiji draws in a breath, and then another breath, and lets them out as normally as he can. His eyes lift, searching for others - the impression of others, voices low in conversation. And he is approaching as instinct wills him not to approach, disgust rising in the back of his mouth, disgust and fear. At war with necessity. Maybe they know something, he thinks to himself. Maybe they know. Maybe they’ll give it away.

img by Tildae @ flickr

ooc // I left it a little vague as to whether Tech's characters were present or nearby, since Waker's post seemed also a bit vague!