[ Respond | Andarin: The Mountains ]
Posted by A stranger returned, on March 14, 2009, 9:38 am It had been 3 years.
Message modified by board administrator March 15, 2009, 9:39 am
He had forgotten the feeling, of land that was alive. Of winds that whispered rumors in your ears, of water that sang as you drank it. But most of all, he had forgotten (and a rather sharp pang of guilt hit his gut) the earth as it shifted beneath his feet in subtle, impish dances, responding to each footfall as though it were he who stood still.
The stranger did not know this place as Andarin. Perhaps it was ironic to call him the stranger at all, after everything that had passed - but the land did not know him anymore, and his attempts to call his old element had thus far been unsuccessful. It mattered little - he was not here for It, he was not here for Wolfrange. He was not sure if it was wise to return at all, but after many sleepless nights, he yielded to its siren's call, and returned to a life that had seemed like a rose among so many thorns.
He crests the side of the final peak, where Wolfrange lays bear beneath him; his sides still cling to the black, black shadows he had long ago stepped out of. He cannot remember if the land pulsed with such power as when he left it - for in the very air itself it is tangible and sour on his tongue - but he passes it off as consequence for his overdue return, and his dark eyes seek the familiar forms of those he left behind with growing concern. Could three years truly change its face so dramatically? Perhaps time moved faster on this end - with the Element, all was uncertain.
But there is one who stops his heart and catches his gaze long, and after several agonizing minutes of uncertainty, he steps down the slope with his heart beating in his ears and sweat cold on his skin.
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"... Nyota." He breathes, and his voice is unchanged from when he spoke her name so long ago, rich and deep with tenderness only she could draw.
He does not notice when his element returns, smoldering red on the charcoal of his skin.
R E Q U I E M
"In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
Martin Luther King, Jr.
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