3rd of Spring, 514 A.V.
The forest was quiet under Leth’s waning reign. Syna, who was just beginning her assent, yawned as she stretched; reaching her pretty, orange rays above the horizon in a sleepy greeting to her lover. The wispy colours waved languidly as they invaded the desolate black skies, painting the bleak background with beautiful punches of colour. As the sun goddess seemed to find her footing, she rose quietly to meet him; bringing forth with her a womanly touch that warmed the skies. Dark shades of blue and black faded into soft pinks and oranges as she reunited with Leth, the sky lightening as the couple basked in their happiness. As they embraced, creating a gradient effect, they held one another tightly, relishing in their momentary connection. The two gods knew that it was only temporary, but they refused to dwell on such negativity and their inevitable parting. For a moment, they blended so beautifully together that they were one; her strengths his weaknesses, and his strengths hers.
Kissing him softly, Syna took control of the blank skies, coaxing the rest of the world out of slumber. She whispered a soft farewell to her lover and he waved back with a solemn bow, before dispersing beneath the horizon. His darkness followed his disappearance and slowly, with a sluggishness that hinted at the forlorn god’s, melded into blue and greeted the day. The goddess watched sadly as Leth let her take over; their parting apparent and understood. It was a hard life to rule while the one you loved slept, but Syna knew her role and that their estrangement was not forever. The sooner she bore light upon Mizahar, the sooner she could see her lover once again. Smiling resolutely, the sun rose confidently, drenching the Unforgiving in perpetual light.
The shadows of the night skittered away to their caverns, and Wingard could only sigh in his solace. His back placed tightly against a tree, he witnessed the rise of Syna as he finished their nighty guard. Both Turrin and Ainyi slept peacefully around him; their bodies sprawled in their respective bedrolls. Wrestling his katinu around him, the eagle closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he listened to the chirping of his brethren. Already, he could hear their movements and songs; eavesdropping on their morning conversations as they greeted the day. It was bittersweet to him, that they could so easily celebrate another morning while his heart continued to ache, but the rapture did not hate them for it. It was simply in their nature to not care for humanity, and it was only him – the outcast – that felt such connection to both peoples.
Looking up, the Kelvic watched as his breath stirred the air around him. The beginnings of spring had apparently arrived, but the chilled wind of Morwen begged to differ. Frowning lightly as he sat upon his bedroll, Wingard once again found himself escaping into his own thoughts. Syna seemed to be conquering the skies quickly, he noted, the light she exuded breaking through the parting leaves to pepper the ground with tiny spotlights. Lifting his hand, he watched as the patterned shade decorated it; teasing his eyes by exposing certain aspects of his skin. It was hardly an interesting sight, he knew, but for some reason, the broken rays drew his attention in and held it. Exposing his inner wrist, the man revelled in the contrasting image. The light, which easily represented the purity of the world, glimmered prettily against his flesh; enhancing the plain canvas. Figuratively, it portrayed an emotional innocence that he no longer felt; hinting at his loss of self and what used to be prior to the riots. Now, the darkened aspects that opposed such positivity were a painful reminder of his newly found pessimism. It reminded him of the blood that no longer stained his fingers, but felt like it did, anyway. It reminded him of his naiveté when it came to the darker aspects of humanity and how for just one moment, he had forgotten to guard his heart and not take this personally.
The crusted blood of the Chiet and Dek he murdered was long gone, he knew, staring at his clean hands, but the dark splotches of shadows imitated the splatters so easily that the eagle found himself slipping back into the memories that fueled his nightmares. Cringing, he internally shied away from such feelings, shuddering lightly as he coiled his katinu tighter around his chest. Taking a shaking breath, he meditated once again. His eyes closed as he tuned in to the environment around him; his mind slowing down as he focused his thoughts on a single, burning candle. The flame flickered randomly, the dancing fire drawing his focus until everything beyond that piece of wax faded into black. Inhaling, the man watched avidly, his breath slow and steady as he expanded his chest cavity. The air lingered in his diaphragm; bloating his lean belly until he could no longer breathe in anymore oxygen. Pausing, he held his breath for a moment before finally, releasing it once again.
The exhale was just as calm and relaxed as his previous inhale, so it exited his body in a relaxed manner. Wingard would hardly describe himself as patient, but he knew of the importance of keeping a cool head, so he ignored his baser instincts. As the exhale finished, he once again drew in another breath through his nose. The process was just the same as before, and slowly, the man felt his previously erratic heart relax. Determined to not ruin their breathing lesson as he had temporarily allayed his fears, the Kelvic continued to exhale.
