Golden eyes watching our every move
Losing time without the sun or moon
They had been so very alike once. When Ether had been a boy, no older than the one now before him, he had wandered the shadows, calling them friend and feeling their sweet embrace warm him to the marrow. His only friend, truth be told. A lonely childhood, but he hadn’t minded, not at first. Only as he had grown older had he realized the shadows may comfort, but they do not truly replace the living.
It had been too late for him though.
Perhaps that is what draws him to this dreamy child. There is something so familiar about him, a kindred soul that calls to him in a way he hadn’t expected. Or perhaps it is blood that calls, unbeknownst to him.
It is odd, so deep in the pitch of the forest. The world does not exist in the same way here as it does in the realm of light. As though time itself has forgotten how to breath. He had long grown used to it, so it is novel to see that forgotten wonder reflected on this boys young face. Reminding him of a time he’d been just as innocent and filled with wonder and longing for something he could never quite touch.
It’s odd, as though destiny had pulled them together. So similar, one named for the darkness and one named for the vast shadows filling the depths of the cosmos.
I found you. Ether wonders at that, as though the boy had been searching for him amongst the darkness. But he couldn’t have been, could he? Ether is alone. Always alone. But this boy looks at him as though he is the answer. A part of him wishes he could be.
He blinks when the marbled child asks him if he is Cimmerian. A mistaken identity perhaps. Slowly, he shakes his head, as though uncertain. “I am Ether,” he responds gently, sorrowfully. Perhaps he would go and find this other now. But he does not want him to leave, not yet. Perhaps he even could be Cimmerian, if he did not think too hard on it.
ether