Andarin: The Mountains: listen to the wise man! --

Say that the soul is deathless;
Dream that the gods are good;
Say March may wed September,
And time divorce regret;
But not that you remember,
And not that I forget.

*

They curled together, Icarus and Wyvern; and that was the way it should be, would always be.

He could feel his lover’s tears and not understand them. He could feel the hot, panting breaths – wet still with his lover’s pain – and pretend they weren’t there. Such was their way; so they were. Love is often a fickle thing, a tenuous, fragile thing. Icarus did not believe in the love of epic songs and great tragedies, of monogamy and suicide. He could not believe something as destructive as such concept of love was good, even desirable.

But he believed in Wyvern and Wyvern believed in him and that was enough.

It was mere chance that led him to the red stallion’s presence.

Icarus had a tendency to know things; of course he did, what with the wind and the way it pulled to him. The exact extent of what he knew or didn’t was unknown, he supposes, but he watched; he always watched. It was such a primal instinct for him, that he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted.

But as he neared the stallion, and his shoulder felt the solid texture of a tree-bark against it, as he watched and watched and smiled, of all things, his eyes were clouded and his mind, empty.

He knew oracles, after all, and seers. Intimately.

“I wonder,” he said, as if starting in the middle of a thought, “what it’s like to be a seer. To be like you and Wyvern and Astarte. To see everything – and to know things in a way that is impossible to hide,” he smiled then, a wicked thing, surprisingly like his granddaughter’s smile, if bereft of her joyous innocence. Jörmungandr was his blood, black as he was, but they might as well be as different as day and night.

He’d never had the patience to be a scholar, and his attempts at war were failures at beast; he loved pain too much, then, too masochistically. He is a spy, through and through and would always be.

“Or almost impossible. I know things, too, but it isn’t the same,” he hummed, under his breath, almost as if musing on the truth of his words.

His eyes, however, were very, very black, and a shadow of fire flickered through them.

squelch rulz

icarus
blackwind.