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12-25-2014, 05:56 AM
EREBOS The enduring pull of curiosity compelled him – first, the jingling of bells, wild, free, sublime, mellifluous sounds he’d never heard before – and second, the rising of a tree, emblazoned and ornate. For a few instances, he simply stared, mesmerized by the carillon pinging and pealing, by the hues and delicacy of the conifer, by the turtle beneath its waiting boughs (did he know that hungry turkey?), eyes widened and mouth slacked. But more and more gathered, slipping by him in a singular, siren mass, and he wondered if it was something conniving, something evil, enticing them closer and closer, and he should stayed away, far beyond, watching as rubble turned to ruin. But then, he noted his friends, a smattering of gold and wings (Aithniel!) and a deer tied and tethered to a spotted colt (Adelric!), and as if a lure of death held no meaning, he careened across the valleys and the meadows and the springtime essences for an opportunity with his companions, to explore, to divulge, to voice inquiries and questions. Upon his advance, the little blue prince beheld the singular crescendo and nodded towards it, as if the harmonies, the arias, the strains of its adornments had earned his respect, then settled somewhere amidst the crowd, beside Aithniel, near Adelric (and he wanted Rikyn to join, where was he?), developing a stage whisper, burning and brewing it within his vocals before extending it towards his beloved kin. “What…is it?” What did it do? Why did it stay there, beautiful and significant, but so ultimately unknown and peculiar? |
