S
ummer had come to Novus, and with it, the days grew longer with light stretching far into what would usually be night. The air was warm and rich with fragrant scents of sweet fruits and sweeter wine. All around, there is noise and energy. Along the shoreline, beach combers gathered treasures which had washed ashore throughout the day, each wave bringing new surprises to their waiting hands. Children laughed and ran playfully through the surf, chasing away scuttling crabs and seagulls who perched upon rocky surfaces, vying for a treat of their own. As he walked along the shore, Nightwish passed extravagant sand sculptures. Some had chosen to build traditional castles, but others forged scenes at whim. He passed a pirate ship, being overtaken by an impressively large sea kraken. A bit further down, an artisan put the finishing touches on a great eagle, wings spread against a brilliant sun, each feather detailed in fine craftsmanship. Further still, he found a brilliant bouquet of sand flowers, adorned with seashells and bits of sea glass to bring color to their blooms.
The stallion had always appreciated the art, humming a jaunty sea shanty as he found a small outcropping near the activity, settling to write in his journal as he watched. The longer he sat, the more he saw. His storyteller shorthand was brief on the page, but his memory was sharp enough to add in the details later. Brow furrowed in concentration, he lost himself in the words, as dozens passed by and the sun turned westward to begin its journey toward the sea. Only once shadows began to fall over his pages did he finally blink at the sun and realize the hour.
He stands once more, shaking off the tingling in his limbs, grown stiff from sitting in one position too long. Stretching thoroughly, he began to leave this place, but something holds him back. Turning to see what had set off his intuition, the painted stallion’s purple gaze falls on a stranger, holding back from joining in the din but obviously paying attention in the same way as he. Curiosity piqued, he makes his way forward, nodding to the stallion and taking in the peculiar sheen of his eyes – cloudy and sightless (he presumed).
"Quiet a show, eh?” He keeps his voice light and jovial, allowing Tenebrae a moment to adjust to his presence. "Certainly seems a change of pace from the usual scenery here…” Not that he knew it well, for Nightwish hadn’t been here long, but the laughter and play of the strangers here was far more activity than he’d seen in a while.
Nightwish
html by castlegraphics; artwork by nikkayla
@Tenebrae
