Rikyn

 
The feeling of anger is distinct.  Disappointment, sharp, like knives of ice, or cold, gray stone, diminutive and numbered by the thousands, a slow drizzle within my heart.  I wish it would rain, to better suit my mood, to match the setting without to the sensations inside; rain as it had on the night she had walked away and I’d chased her.  Rain as it had when I’d returned home, an utter fool, after following her the second time.
 
Instead, the blistering touch of the Sun lingers, even in the silver shadow of the Moon.  It’s into her wood that I’m looking, the twinkling of her celestial courtiers high over head.  Not a cloud obscures their webbed blanket of light, or the bright radiance of the Goddess herself, half full.  All that ethereal white makes the tops of the forest glow, the mist within illuminated with haunting serenity.
 
I don’t know why I’m here, on this ridge, the willows to my back, other than that I'm nursing my minor wounds from the battle with Deimos, and the much more profound emotional ones; I'm also trying not to think of these things all the while.  I think of possibly asking at the borders about my father, or d'Arcy.  Anyone.

Instead, I watch the rippling of the fog, and let the loneliness bite into me with a ferocity it hasn’t managed since I’d met Duir.  

Nearby, as he always is, the buck keeps to himself in the willows, wary of my foul mood.
 
This was my realm now, I think to myself bitterly, this no man’s land in no where, where the heat is like a horrible, damp blanket that clings to you through the night, into the morning.  To the west, the mountains tower, encircle a land that is mine no longer.  I think of Erebos, within those natural walls, and feel the loneliness gain depth.  It hadn’t been that long ago that I’d tried to warn him, that I’d told him of how, sometimes, the walls we must smash down beneath our hooves are made of our flesh, and our love.  Sometimes, we cannot help but weep as we crush them into rubble.
 
I’m tired of weeping.  Besides, I have Duir to care for now, and strength to gain.  There is little room left for a boy’s tears.  
 
[ OOC: Open to anyone!  Let us slay my muse block together comrades. Along the outskirts of the willow grove, on a hill overlooking the Edge. Just after midnight, clear weather. ]