Rikyn

It is the way of fated brothers, to follow after one another, unintentionally. We both move to the Shrines, perhaps drawn by the silent proximity of the Four, myself, and perhaps, it is the same for Erebos. That the mirror of our lives encompasses more than just the paths we chose to walk was not something I expected, however, as unsurprising as it is to see his familiar shape on the heat warped horizon.

I am glad to find him here; though it has not been long since I’d seen him last, there are new, deep rifts in my heart that could use the comfort of our closeness, even as worn and stretched as it is as of late. Perhaps, I think, oblivious to the similarities in our state of being at the moment, I can hide in the revelries of youth, and camaraderie. Perhaps, with his help, I might escape this pit that I endlessly find myself scrambling up the wall off, unsuccessfully finding myself trapped at its bottom, alongside the bodies of my father, and my childish dreams of family.

Another I know skirts towards him, already; not a shadow, but a beacon of annoying questions and cloying needs. Feeling my ears fall back at the sight of him, not eager to put myself through that today, I stop. Like a bead of sunlight, Duir’s thoughts enter the abysmal well of my mind, shining, dancing, blinding. I do not know how to clench shut the eyes of my thought, however, unskilled in such mental arts (perhaps partially why I’d been so fated to carry this blue stone of hell with me), and am forced to dwell in the glimmer of his warm heart.

Go, says the buck, more insightful of the situation, and my own needs, than I am. Besides the obvious lure of another of his kind, an occurrence which has yet to have occurred for him, he too knows that mourning alone is dangerous, and his keen, endlessly wise eyes see the slump and slack in the normally proud, soldierly Erebos’ lines. As if the torment of further, mental beacons of conversation is not enough, the buck butts my rump with his vine laden antlers, his brows furrowed down over his sunlit, forest gaze.

We arrive to the explosion of rocks against branch, Duir moving away from the danger with a worried glance. Only now do I notice the dark lines of tears on my friend’s face, the presence of his inner strength, something absent within myself. My own expression is dry, empty, a mask of nothing, watching the world through flat, dulled eyes of lackluster gold.

My weeping is done within, a silent river carving rifts inside my heart.

Silently, I arrive alongside Erebos, no words shared to either of them, for I don’t care to speak. The fact that Thranduil wears his jester’s grin makes me want to kick him, so I try not to dwell on his presence long, instead moving to assist my brethren in his task. Manually, without magic – the art somehow seeming to soil the perfect distraction of having to use one’s body to its fullest extend, to press ones mind to toiling on work, rather than empty spaces in your chest. I wonder why my friend cries, but I don’t ask, instead muttering roughly to the golden one, always meeting the world with sarcasm and a shrug.

"Shut up, Thranduil."

Is cast to the wind, moments before whoever's body he's stolen this time catches him. Actually managing to draw a fleeting smirk to my lips, the mare's outrage at the gold makes my heart lift, and I curiously raise my head, nudging Erebos' shoulder to pull his attention up from the tedious work of removing trees. The faintest hint of something other than abysmal nothing manages to bleed into my voice. "Looks like he's finally gonna get some recompense for playing charades all the time."

[ OOC: ahahahahahaha AHAHAHAHAHA ohmygod I'm sorry Hawk per usual. xD OHSHIT SORRY ODD I JUST NOW NOTICED SHIDA POSTED SHIIIIIIIIIITE ]