The Edge of the World – 51st of Spring, 512 A.V. Half the season had been swept away with the flowing stream of time since that fateful day. Fire walked the world once more in the form of a god with the infinite thanks to two mortals. His eruption back into the world, Ivak’s, forever changed the landscape, especially that of Wind Reach. All of Mount Skynarta’s former glory had been shattered and displaced by his awakening. Now, a city in shambles, a society of a people who already struggled with each turn of Syna and Leth’s bodies, worked toward reconstruction. The castes had dissolved: chiet, avora, yasi, endal, and even dek now looked at each other as equals outright. It was necessary for their survival in such a time; it was necessary that each and every Inarta contribute toward the reclamation of their home or else should they forever dwell in the ruins of their formal glory, and never rise above it. The guardians of the great settlement, the wind eagles, now so solemn in all their beings, gave back as well. To some, Ivak’s escape was necessary and predictable. They now accepted it as fact, an event that would have inevitably come, and moved on. As the storms over Wind Reach would swell the caverns with water, a localized flood in the crater, so did the waters in the aftermath evaporate into the thin air. They learned to deal with tragedy and moved on. Not all were as fortunate. Indeed, some eagles knew only to blame themselves. Their sole purpose in their existence, beyond any menial tasks such as hunting, was not burned away. There was no going back, no hope of recovering their former prisoner, and no way of recovering all that was lost in the failed attempt to contain Ivak. So many souls, so many good souls… They had only learned to ruminate on the thought. Though their bodies fervidly moved to aid in clearing the debris and rebuilding the strong pillars of Wind Reach, their true inner spirits were just burning away. Like hot coals on paper, their pain had been a shock to begin with, that was their failure, and then it spread over them, consuming them. Little orange bands of sparking fire spread over their beings and began to reduce them to ashes of their former selves. Although any other could smother the flames with a press of his fingers, the flames still hurt their spirits. Even then, if those coals were put out, there was little hope in repairing what damage had been done. It was a spiraling depression, the whole ordeal. Tiaue`a was among the later. Perhaps never in her life had she been working so hard, or with such vigor, as she pushed her body’s limits each and every solar cycle, more than she had previously as a cog in the Wind Reach machine. Since her short time in rediscovering her telepathy, Ti`ue had been barking orders back toward the Inarta below her. The cataclysm was over, their mundane forms still standing, but the panic was still in her heart, burning with a fervor that matched Ivak’s in intensity. It would consume her too if she didn’t find the proper outlet. She had blamed herself at first, and Sira, and the other wind eagles. Since then she had started to displace it, rather to project it on the other Inarta who could have done nothing of the matter. Why didn’t they see them slip away? How did they let an intruder get into the mountain? How did they even… questions of a thousand sorts floating through her mind these days and nights, haunting her with the ever turn of that celestial cycle. The Inarta were easy to blame because they were incapable of doing nothing. They were weaker, physically. It made sense though, especially through her perspective - although it was more of a cracked lense. Present efforts from the wind eagle went into hunting and digging. Chains and leather made effective baskets to fly a harnessed rock away. When she wasn’t doing either of those actions, she was usually on the other end of the work load revisiting her place in the caste. She was going back to what was comfortable. Was it so offensive? Was it not what they all were working toward, returning Wind Reach back to what it used to be? This line of work included ordering the lazy dek back in line. They stuck out even amongst the mixture of red hair. Perhaps it was their physique. Some were just out of place entirely wondering the ruble rather than helping to clear it. Ti`ue refused to tolerate such. Flying high over the city, its grounded inhabitants moving over it like thousands of ants, Ti`ue found a place to breath. The rising hot air dissipated this high up and the cooler air could fill her lungs. In her efforts to relax she concealed her true desire to cry. She was so frustrated with everything anymore. It was painful to look at them all working together, all of them. Even with such a great effort it seemed so helpless. They would need skilled reimancers or great followers of Semele for such a project. The heat of the springs seemed to get hotter. She needed to escape the heat, although it was really her own internal burning. She fled to the Edge. The open valley before her there still blew in cold air. She could fly high over the forested lands and just let the coolness overtake her. Then she could dive down and feel the wind flow through her down. To dive or to fly; to dive and keep on diving could bring a swift peace. She could close her eyes and fall. The thought had come to her mind a few times, but this was a stronger instance. There was some comfort in knowing she could always pull away, if she wanted that is. She couldn’t think of a moment without her wings coherently. Such a life did not exist for her. Nearing the sight of the Edge of the World, Tiaue`a quickly recognized a spot of discoloration against the rocky terrain. The deceptive appearance of Taln cloaked his rightful place amongst the dek. She assumed him to be an Endal, perhaps still too in mourning at the loss of his companion of the sky. The thought came back to her, so many were lost… and what would one more be? He should be helping clear the city. The hypocritical idea was sharp in her mind. She figured the practice could have mutual benefit: that is working one’s self to near death and cloaking the emotional pain with something physical. At a glance at the Inarta’s back, a chill shot through Ti`ue’s spine. Her entire down coat felt need to rise up, and she caught more air under her wings. She looked away from him and decided to land. The wind was colder than she figured it would be – probably another effect of Ivak’s carelessness. The mental link immediately settled upon Taln, an invading voice and thought in his mind. It rang through as though the eagle spoke to him aloud. You should be helping the – and cut off into silence. Tiaue`a was settled a meter or so away from him. She knew something about those eyes, and now the marks. He was one of them. It was almost a pleasure to imagine what she had wanted to do with his body, to match the suffering she had after the initial explosion of the prison’s djed. Now in the presence of that mark, however, she couldn’t bring herself to move against him. It was right there on his shoulder winking her in the face like some eye with razor sharp teeth for lashes. She knew not his name, but his brief history. This man was among the enemies of her home, a traitor to his people, and now a fiend in his being. The intensity of his eyes rivaled that of the eagles’, and that was saying something. |