11-19-2020, 07:50 PM
YADIGAR
there’s a hole in my chest but it’s mine, baby, it’s all i got.
He watches over his brothers and sisters, as he promised them he would, when the fire erupts across Pangea. Yadigar turns and watches its approach without much further movement. Ghaul had told him that all would face the fire someday, and he supposes their hour has come at last. He hopes it devours him and wipes his existence from the earth. But Sepulcher gives a fearful screech and Virgil presses his shoulder against the eldest brother’s side for reassurance. There will be time to perish later, then.
“Gather the others. It’s time for a family meeting,” he says when he finally turns to Virgil. His golden eyes study the milk-white of Yadigar’s and then he nods, setting off to find the remaining children along with Sepulcher. They each weave between the newly-formed pine trees and collect the siblings they find. The territory warps and bends and changes all around them, but they manage to find their way to the knoll where Straia waits.
Sepulcher is the first to arrive, drooling and gnashing his teeth nervously as he comes to a stop near Beyza. They are not close but she is familiar enough for him to draw comfort from until the others find them. Next is Virgil, his halo gleaming as it turns on its axis. He stands beside his younger brother and croons softly against his shoulder.
Finally, Yadigar emerges from the trees, stoic and silent as he observes. Beyza voices how he imagines many of them must feel. They had all been family, once. They moved as one body and spoke in one resounding voice. That had been their greatest strength against their enemies, he likes to think. He is vaguely aware of the next one to arrive. His words are simple, and dry as a bone.
Iris questions Beyza and Yadigar steps forward to answer.
“The desert forged us in its heat and restored us in its nights. It was the cradle for our ambitions and our hope,” he begins, his tone even and controlled. There is nothing left of him to feel rage or sorrow for his latest loss. “But perhaps we have outgrown our cradle and the time has come for us to fly. My brothers and sisters, you are always with me, just as I am always with you. In the morning, I will migrate to Hyaline. If you choose to remain here, my love for you will not dampen in the slightest.”
He studies each Pangeans’ outline, and he wonders what they will do. Virgil lifts his chin and draws a deep breath.
“I will go,” he says at last, as much as the words pain him. Sepulcher hesitates but gives a curt nod of his head.
“I will.. go..” he rasps, his strange head shifting and clicking around the words.
“Gather the others. It’s time for a family meeting,” he says when he finally turns to Virgil. His golden eyes study the milk-white of Yadigar’s and then he nods, setting off to find the remaining children along with Sepulcher. They each weave between the newly-formed pine trees and collect the siblings they find. The territory warps and bends and changes all around them, but they manage to find their way to the knoll where Straia waits.
Sepulcher is the first to arrive, drooling and gnashing his teeth nervously as he comes to a stop near Beyza. They are not close but she is familiar enough for him to draw comfort from until the others find them. Next is Virgil, his halo gleaming as it turns on its axis. He stands beside his younger brother and croons softly against his shoulder.
Finally, Yadigar emerges from the trees, stoic and silent as he observes. Beyza voices how he imagines many of them must feel. They had all been family, once. They moved as one body and spoke in one resounding voice. That had been their greatest strength against their enemies, he likes to think. He is vaguely aware of the next one to arrive. His words are simple, and dry as a bone.
Iris questions Beyza and Yadigar steps forward to answer.
“The desert forged us in its heat and restored us in its nights. It was the cradle for our ambitions and our hope,” he begins, his tone even and controlled. There is nothing left of him to feel rage or sorrow for his latest loss. “But perhaps we have outgrown our cradle and the time has come for us to fly. My brothers and sisters, you are always with me, just as I am always with you. In the morning, I will migrate to Hyaline. If you choose to remain here, my love for you will not dampen in the slightest.”
He studies each Pangeans’ outline, and he wonders what they will do. Virgil lifts his chin and draws a deep breath.
“I will go,” he says at last, as much as the words pain him. Sepulcher hesitates but gives a curt nod of his head.
“I will.. go..” he rasps, his strange head shifting and clicking around the words.