02-08-2021, 08:44 PM
CrownS
He has stood motionless in the darkness for weeks, now. The snap of a twig underfoot no longer draws his attention, nor the mournful cry of some still confused lark. His wild blue eyes stare endlessly into the void as he keeps his focus drawn entirely upon the wordless whisperings. Crowns does not know the tongue in which they speak. He has twisted and contorted his magic in every shape he can imagine, but the language is too old even for the familial serpent to know.
Even so, he listens to the chittering and gnashing teeth that loom just beyond his sight.
But today he takes a step forward and his muscles ache at the simple motion.
His lips part and his wings spread wide in full display. “Where did you come from? Where are you going?” he whispers softly, as though the soundwaves of his voice alone will shatter this moment. He does not realize, but his legs have grown and his muscles have filled him to the shape of a man now. There is a timber to his voice that was not there when the sun set for the last time. He only knows the dryness of his throat and the tired throbbing in his knees from being still for so long. He takes another step and thin roots are torn from their place, having grown over his hooves.
The whispering stops when he draws near. Crowns sucks in a worried breath, praying he has not sent them flying from him. They do not answer in words but with a small blue flame. It hovers at his eye level, lapping at nothing as it bobs up and down, as a fishing lure might. The boy hesitates before taking another step. Another flame flickers to life. His brow furrows and something in his core begs him to flee from this place before he cannot.
He takes a third step and more fire is summoned to this gathering. Slowly, they float near and begin to circle him. The foxfire orbits him and yet they give off no heat. Crowns wonders if he should continue his walking until he hears a short snickering sort of laughter from the depths of this particular void, and then something running away in bounding leaps.
He is alone with his gifts, it seems.
Even so, he listens to the chittering and gnashing teeth that loom just beyond his sight.
But today he takes a step forward and his muscles ache at the simple motion.
His lips part and his wings spread wide in full display. “Where did you come from? Where are you going?” he whispers softly, as though the soundwaves of his voice alone will shatter this moment. He does not realize, but his legs have grown and his muscles have filled him to the shape of a man now. There is a timber to his voice that was not there when the sun set for the last time. He only knows the dryness of his throat and the tired throbbing in his knees from being still for so long. He takes another step and thin roots are torn from their place, having grown over his hooves.
The whispering stops when he draws near. Crowns sucks in a worried breath, praying he has not sent them flying from him. They do not answer in words but with a small blue flame. It hovers at his eye level, lapping at nothing as it bobs up and down, as a fishing lure might. The boy hesitates before taking another step. Another flame flickers to life. His brow furrows and something in his core begs him to flee from this place before he cannot.
He takes a third step and more fire is summoned to this gathering. Slowly, they float near and begin to circle him. The foxfire orbits him and yet they give off no heat. Crowns wonders if he should continue his walking until he hears a short snickering sort of laughter from the depths of this particular void, and then something running away in bounding leaps.
He is alone with his gifts, it seems.
you got me on my knees; i'm your one-man cult.