EREBOS

For a few moments, he basked in her admiration. He delighted in her awe, he relished in her reverence and wonder, his boyish smile growing ever larger in the presence of a devotee, supporter, and disciple. Usually he was the one courting and lofting endless questions, and to suddenly be the one with the knowledge, with the skills, with the prerequisites towards resolution, endurance, and strength, was a moment he snagged, took, and grasped with every fiber of his being. The child’s confidence reigned supreme in those defining moments, bolstered and heightened his awareness, his prowess, his potential, surrounding and pervading his senses until all he did was grin and perform, charm and delight. If he wove enough stories, if he laced enough tales, would this be how he won over the world? “No! No cooking magic!” The boy laughed at the memories of the giant bird, the overwhelming turkey, the aplomb and talent he never knew he possessed, warm and bright, eyes layered and enameled with the lacquer of divine mischief, pinpointed and segmented on the curious filly. “But I do have fire magic, which was very helpful!” He paused for a moment, lowered his voice to a conspiracy-molded whisper, as if hastening great, grand secrets the forest wasn’t allowed to hear or share. “Would you like to see it?”

But the words, the inquisitions hastened back towards the rights of companions, of the bonded floating along his feet (batting at idle leaves), and his wisdom, his sagacity, while limited due to age, could be cultivated and extended through trial, tribulation, and experience. His Cheshire grin softened as his gaze flicked off towards the branches, the boughs, the weight of the world’s surrounding mysteries, pondering over how to convey the reasons for failures, the notion of continuing to try, over and over again, even when failure seemed imminent. The scorch of his memories branded his responses, so they trickled in like quiet, scattered stars and scars, of the days before triumph, of the hours before annihilation, of the minutes were he seemed so insignificant, so small, so unworthy. “I tried twice before too. Its hard, because you’re never quite sure what they want.” Wasn’t it easier to apply desires, to whittle dreams, into actions and eloquence? But when it was unknown, they were expected to stumble, to fall, to falter; perhaps it was what happened thereafter, how they managed to rise from the challenge, how they showed their resolve, how they developed their creeds and oaths. Or maybe it was sheer luck, and he’d been awakened to it in a single bound. He shrugged, unsure of all the littered pathways, the rubble and stone. “I guess you just have to try all the time. There’s always a different task – maybe you’ll find one you’re really good at!” The spirit of optimism leapt along his throat, embellished his smile all over again, gaze locked and poignant, strong, unrelenting. “I think the gods, the deities, all these higher beings, look for the stubborn, the determined, and the courageous. They wouldn’t give a companion to someone who doesn’t want to make an effort. They wouldn’t give magic to someone who would waste it away.” The boy nodded, certain and assured of his measures. “Show them over and over again.”


@[Auriel]