Winter 3, 513 AV
Nearing the end of midnight rest.
He’d always liked Leth better than Syna.
It wasn’t a personal thing; something inside him just preferred the subtlety of the moon, rather than the all-encompassing glow of the sun. He liked to attribute it to his innate sensibility, ingrained young when he was a child—a stop for a thought was his kind of philosophy.
He wondered if it were considered scandalous to think he preferred a god over his lover, a goddess. Leth was the god of thought, and maybe he could hear his mind wandering dangerously—was he losing points?
He was grounded on the Shinyama Peak, standing uncertainly in front of the Moon Temple, painted snowy in Leth’s translucent light. The tips of his ears ached with the cold, and his fingers were laced in front of him, strangely reverent, as though he were waiting to be invited into the Moon Temple. He’d feel like he was breaking in if he just walked in.
He didn’t even know why he’d come. After releasing his frustration at his irresponsible mother (“Would you be a dear and cook up something? I don’t feel like it, and I'm hungry.”), he escaped into the night for a clearer thought process, and he was drawn to the Moon Temple without knowing it.
He was just a visitor tonight. But what was he supposed to do?
Nearing the end of midnight rest.
He’d always liked Leth better than Syna.
It wasn’t a personal thing; something inside him just preferred the subtlety of the moon, rather than the all-encompassing glow of the sun. He liked to attribute it to his innate sensibility, ingrained young when he was a child—a stop for a thought was his kind of philosophy.
He wondered if it were considered scandalous to think he preferred a god over his lover, a goddess. Leth was the god of thought, and maybe he could hear his mind wandering dangerously—was he losing points?
He was grounded on the Shinyama Peak, standing uncertainly in front of the Moon Temple, painted snowy in Leth’s translucent light. The tips of his ears ached with the cold, and his fingers were laced in front of him, strangely reverent, as though he were waiting to be invited into the Moon Temple. He’d feel like he was breaking in if he just walked in.
He didn’t even know why he’d come. After releasing his frustration at his irresponsible mother (“Would you be a dear and cook up something? I don’t feel like it, and I'm hungry.”), he escaped into the night for a clearer thought process, and he was drawn to the Moon Temple without knowing it.
He was just a visitor tonight. But what was he supposed to do?