08-28-2015, 11:42 AM
no matter what they say, I am still the king
Thorunn had stayed. When all others had left, tasting the ash of the Valley in their mouth, Thourunn had weathered on. Perhaps it was because she had no where to go – the Valley had been the only home she had. Perhaps it was that the memory of her parents held her down tight- a child made of love from the Valley, with parents long gone. Eight wasn’t sure, and didn’t have the pressure to prod into that mind of hers. But he watched – from far away and long gone, the copper filly trailed through his mind, and he made sure that no harm nor foul became her.
And now- here they were, years later – a new king upon the throne and a new dawn to rise. Right? Something new would rise? It always does, doesn’t it – a changing of the guard, a passing of the crown – new things always happened quickly once a new ruler arrived. Maybe this time, they wouldn’t die down.
Eight had positioned himself next to the copper child during Demian’s arrival – there was some kind of comradery there, perhaps. Maybe an inkling inside Eight to pull the child in, to protect what was left of her childhood. Or perhaps there was just the comforting silence between them of people and places that they had lost.
Her small voice quivers in the air, carrying across the Valley to where he stood, watching the commotion of change with stoic eyes.
They had never talked before, not really – anyway. And yet there was an easiness that Eight felt between them.
“Thorunn.” He speaks to her mind – while he may not have the key to the gates, he can still send dove-like messages to her. He makes his way towards her, disappearing among the throng of dark trees, and reappearing steps away from her. “Well, it’s gotta be better than what this old bag of bones was doing, right?” He settles in step beside her. “There are new faces, which is good. But I’m not sure for how long they’ll stay, or what he’s got in store.” He looks down beside him, catching her eye - “And what do you think?”
And now- here they were, years later – a new king upon the throne and a new dawn to rise. Right? Something new would rise? It always does, doesn’t it – a changing of the guard, a passing of the crown – new things always happened quickly once a new ruler arrived. Maybe this time, they wouldn’t die down.
Eight had positioned himself next to the copper child during Demian’s arrival – there was some kind of comradery there, perhaps. Maybe an inkling inside Eight to pull the child in, to protect what was left of her childhood. Or perhaps there was just the comforting silence between them of people and places that they had lost.
Her small voice quivers in the air, carrying across the Valley to where he stood, watching the commotion of change with stoic eyes.
They had never talked before, not really – anyway. And yet there was an easiness that Eight felt between them.
“Thorunn.” He speaks to her mind – while he may not have the key to the gates, he can still send dove-like messages to her. He makes his way towards her, disappearing among the throng of dark trees, and reappearing steps away from her. “Well, it’s gotta be better than what this old bag of bones was doing, right?” He settles in step beside her. “There are new faces, which is good. But I’m not sure for how long they’ll stay, or what he’s got in store.” He looks down beside him, catching her eye - “And what do you think?”
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in