The trickster has always enjoyed the silent presence of the stars. Although he cannot say he loves them as much as the shadows (the shadows are his friends, the shadows are his allies, the shadows are the things he croons to when chaos is sleeping, the shadows are his partners in crime), there is something eerily comforting in their glittering, powerful ways. Some might say the stars are powerful beings, capable of flying down to the earth and spreading light and goodness and peace. The trickster thinks the stars are lonely, in his own honest opinion – up there in a sky of darkness with only their own light to keep them company, millions of miles away from the nearest friend, too far away to notice that they are not alone.
The shadows speak to his chaos and the stars speak to his loneliness.
He finds that the best place to observe the stars is in the field. Although the Valley has a few places of relative clarity from the suffocating trees and forests and shadows, the field is a wide clearing fringed and splattered with random trees and a crystalline lake to mirror the sky. It’s also peaceful at night, when the screaming mares and the heated stallions all retire home for sleep.
He isn’t alone, during this night, however, and the trickster’s eyes (blue and white, blue and black) glimmer in the darkness with interest. They are both silent beings but he is perhaps more-so (mostly due to the fact that he deafens her ears to the grass hitting his legs and the sound of his breaths and the movement of muscle over bone and replaces it with the natural symphony of nighttime) as he approaches closer. And then he halts the soundtrack of the faux music in her ears and allows the natural, real sounds of night to take over.
They are soon silenced with the sound of his voice. “It’s not safe for a dainty thing like you, babe, to be out here so late. Especially at this time of the year…”
Lokii
the tricky god of chaos