[SWP] light it up

They gather for a reason. This becomes abundantly clear when a voice materializes next to him: "Have you come seeking to help us, or are you lost?" Seiji flinches away from the noise: a brief contraction of every muscle in his body, a moment of flight as he leaps aside. She moves like a hunting cat, silent. It’s impressive, even if a frisson of fear still tears up and down his spine, trapped. For a moment - for a moment he just studies her. Reflected in his black eyes are too many colors to name, like an oil slick. Like the sky over the deepest parts of the sea. Her face looks like a skull. He can’t tell if she means to frighten him, or not. But she doesn’t attack, and beyond her, the other two seem - if not friendly - nonthreatening. “Hello,” calls the dark-winged one, the first Seiji noticed. Seiji nods; he can’t return the greeting but a peaceful expression makes its way into his eyes. There is something - something - lingering about Waker’s gaze. Not entirely unfamiliar. For the both of them, he gestures at the piece of hope hovering patiently in his wake. He will pretend he means to help, if they can’t tell otherwise. Or, to be more accurate: he will help, and hope it leads to something. So far as Seiji knows, none of these creatures in particular have harmed him. So for them, he harbors no ill will. But he doesn’t know what they’re doing. And he cannot ask. He’s aware, gradually, of a darkness. His attention shifts from the gathered beasts to the flowers at his feet. Their faces, only a moment ago so warm, are fading… Seiji moves away from the pale-faced mare, his neck stretching down, to investigate. In his wake still that tiny, brilliant satellite, and he wishes he would ask it what to do. His soft nose brushes the tops of the dimming lights. His ears twitch: back, forth, back. A moment of pause as something rumbles overhead, a precursor to rain which never comes. Then he shakes his head, frowning mildly, and carries on. Darkness lingers heavier in some places than others…. Here he pauses, inhaling like a dog after a scent. Here he lifts one hoof to paw delicately, uncertainly, at where the shadows dwell. Like pulling weeds? Back in the master’s garden, he saw the helpers doing things like this. His eyes are quick and nervous, darting from his work up to the others, half a question.

img by Tildae @ flickr