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Carnesîr;
We are drawn to his flame; they flock and migrate, gravitating towards Ra's ambient radiation, the power that burns off him and glistens in the gold of his palomino coat; and Carnesîr knows, without doubt, this is not just some horse playing at god, this is a god, maybe The God. He is unable to tear his eyes away from him, shining, glowering, powerful beyond mortal capacity- and the silver boy feels if he were to linger for too long around this lord of light, he would simply melt, simply die from the glorious authority. Voices roil and writhe around the craven's ears, but he is unable to focus on them, concentrated as he is on this deity; he is frozen, statuesque, terrified and exhilarated, aghast and intoxicated, drunk on the presence of the Sun. Except someone agrees with him, offers a condolence, and his head jerks away. Beside the sun incarnated in godly form, the little black and white mare is dark and small and shadowy- but she knows Onni, and she misses him too. Carnesîr doesn't know the paint, who isn't quite his type of beautiful but rather pretty nonetheless. "Am I sorry, am I. I been praying for her." The boy sighs, gaze dashing towards the ground in fleeting guilt. Not hard enough, he thinks to himself; not hard enough indeed. The Sun God speaks to him (he gives a little shudder of awe) and bows his crown humbly to the deity. "Thank you... but how you pray?" Brows knit and draw together in confusion; he doesn't dare look up, he's afraid of being burned to crisp for his impunity. Lips shift in wordless prayers, before he speaks up again, to clarify on his point. "I only mean, please, don't mean to offend, that if you are a god, can you pray? Goheno nin! It's not my place." The silver grullo doesn't speak again, musing over Onni- he is so glad of her safety, but he cannot help but feel disappointed she is no longer in Helovia- speak he does not until the lord of light poses forth a question; sickness and darkness. Carnesîr recoils, flinching, forgetting himself- his line of sight dashes up, to look into that magnificent and immortal face, before falling back to his cleft hooves. Why would he ask such a thing? Wasn't it the Sun God's fault? After all, there was no sun. That was his responsibility wasn't it? Or maybe the Moon Goddess did not lower her moon, but couldn't the heat of flames overcome shadow? Thoughts race, speeding and skating over possibilities. Ears twist, as he listens to Kahlua speaking of her time being a wraith, and his scowl deepens, and he butts in rudely after her statements. "Hate is part of living. Without hate, can't know good or like or love." The boy gives a little hum and flicks his leonid tail. "What I curious, is why Moon Goddess did not lower her moon and Sun God did not raise his sun. Sickness ran wild but... this was not sickness. That was dark magic, for undead and dying to walk. Magic only light can battle." |
art by aeolle
