Re: you said, ‘I’ve been in an elevator, going up and down.’
Posted: Wed Jan 26, 2022 5:15 pm
“More time?” Urs asks,“...within the three days or -,” his words muted to a mumbled as he ruffled through the diary.
The lost prince wandered for a time along a path paved with broken glass. The prince carved out his heart and sewed it to his sleeve so that anyone might know him intimately. And, as his heart bled forever there on his arm, he secured no ability to understand others. No creature dared expose their heart to him. He made no effort in seeing what he could not. And so the prince died there, in that strange place, alone.
These were Mother stories. Confused tales without happy endings; each, he’d been promised, a lesson to be learned. The moral hidden in the Fifth Season was more obvious than the other legends, though, which was lucky for him. Bare your heart, yes, but open yourself to the hearts of others.
Communication was a bridge.
“Fine, more time - how?” Urs said and thought and felt, as best as he could, strangely uncomfortable as trying to intensely to speak to Toothless. Mother had made it seem so simple.
The eyes slowly drew from Sivan to Urs, one by one, until all thirteen focused. Images unraveled in each pupil, of him, of Sivan, of the sun reaching past the horizon into dusk. The city, undone and then again built - imagined, Urs assumed, if only because he doubted Toothless had stood witness to the entirety of Kalzasi’s history. The stars shone and then they fell to day; clocks and watches and sand and rivers.
“How?” Urs asked, and then he thought. There were options, and he listed them as best he could; three days, from dawn to dusk, promising Toothless the day so long as it worked during night. He suggested the opposite. He suggested three days of work and three days of exploration. He imagined the clock ticking at three, then at six, then at nine, then at twelve. Perhaps he gave three hours of freedom and Toothless gave three hours of toil.
“Choose,” he said, thinking the same and feeling, openly, his anticipation and desire for a happy negotiation. He allowed himself to feel impatient, to feel rushed, because he desperately wanted the answers he sought.
He remembered Mother - and was surprised when Toothless remembered her as well.
Memories that weren’t his flooded him. They spent the day awake and alert in a strange city. The night spent the night watching the stars. Again, a day with images of clocks and hourglasses, and then the night following the minutes along the path of stars.
“Three days to search and to look for answers. I will supply the power so that you will have the purchase to do as you would throughout the night,” Urs said, and he thought of finalities and endings, and he felt positive with what he was sure agreement.
And Toothless was his mirror in those feelings.
“Then we are agreed.”
The lost prince wandered for a time along a path paved with broken glass. The prince carved out his heart and sewed it to his sleeve so that anyone might know him intimately. And, as his heart bled forever there on his arm, he secured no ability to understand others. No creature dared expose their heart to him. He made no effort in seeing what he could not. And so the prince died there, in that strange place, alone.
These were Mother stories. Confused tales without happy endings; each, he’d been promised, a lesson to be learned. The moral hidden in the Fifth Season was more obvious than the other legends, though, which was lucky for him. Bare your heart, yes, but open yourself to the hearts of others.
Communication was a bridge.
“Fine, more time - how?” Urs said and thought and felt, as best as he could, strangely uncomfortable as trying to intensely to speak to Toothless. Mother had made it seem so simple.
The eyes slowly drew from Sivan to Urs, one by one, until all thirteen focused. Images unraveled in each pupil, of him, of Sivan, of the sun reaching past the horizon into dusk. The city, undone and then again built - imagined, Urs assumed, if only because he doubted Toothless had stood witness to the entirety of Kalzasi’s history. The stars shone and then they fell to day; clocks and watches and sand and rivers.
“How?” Urs asked, and then he thought. There were options, and he listed them as best he could; three days, from dawn to dusk, promising Toothless the day so long as it worked during night. He suggested the opposite. He suggested three days of work and three days of exploration. He imagined the clock ticking at three, then at six, then at nine, then at twelve. Perhaps he gave three hours of freedom and Toothless gave three hours of toil.
“Choose,” he said, thinking the same and feeling, openly, his anticipation and desire for a happy negotiation. He allowed himself to feel impatient, to feel rushed, because he desperately wanted the answers he sought.
He remembered Mother - and was surprised when Toothless remembered her as well.
Memories that weren’t his flooded him. They spent the day awake and alert in a strange city. The night spent the night watching the stars. Again, a day with images of clocks and hourglasses, and then the night following the minutes along the path of stars.
“Three days to search and to look for answers. I will supply the power so that you will have the purchase to do as you would throughout the night,” Urs said, and he thought of finalities and endings, and he felt positive with what he was sure agreement.
And Toothless was his mirror in those feelings.
“Then we are agreed.”