(Untitled)

[aut_augur]

It has been something slightly more than fifteen years since he finally buried Gregor. It had been difficult between them since he'd begun edging up to fifty, had only gotten worse over time. Petty fights about worthlessness and age and beauty and, mundanely enough, money and infidelities, things that... simply did not concern Jast. His lack of

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=3=

[gerfaucon]

Perhaps sensitive to the little thing's thoughts, Niarkhos allows him to lead, does not mind this forfeit if only because he's offered the rare opportunity to observe from behind. The soft slope of narrow shoulders, long spine from nape to lower hips, the way the earth curls under each forward step in warm opening to their treasured warden. Always a creature of movement, of future and progress and home, the bird finds the change enthralling, finds Jast's silence less intimidating or uncomfortable and rather sufficient, all that has to be said already spoken or patient enough to wait. Words aren't nearly necessary where they have wind and sky and dreams to communicate

[gerfaucon]

The sentiment carries to Niarkhos, who treasures their moments of song and loves the sound of the little one's voice, pure and every part of the earth collected into the boy's beautiful aether. He's sad to leave, hasn't felt this tug of belonging in so long he barely recognizes it. He can't remember the last time he had a place to return to, a place to root himself, his sharp talons. The thought of it is ephemeral, unimaginable, but something he hopes he can one day acquire, one day learn to cherish.

Niarkhos chirrups in return, draws the little one close again to feather lips over his brow, then draws away, perhaps for the last time until they meet again. "Will you look for me?"

[aut_augur]

"Yes," Jast breathes immediately, set fluttering by his touch. He doesn't want him to go, but he wants to see him fly, he wants to hear his stories when he returns. Wants to see him sleep peacefully, safely, tired after the long flight of return. He presses Niarkhos' hand between his own while he still can, eyes searching, honest. More ritual spills from his lips, prayers and wards, the rites he is to give to all creatures on this earth, "May the sun warm you, stars guide you, and winds carry you. Be safe." His eyelashes dip in a slow anxious moment. "I will be watching.

[gerfaucon]

Niarkhos smiles his thanks, feels somehow at peace with those words carrying on his feathers, feels lighter, more free. It's a good blessing and he is only lucky to have it. The prince nods with a graceful gesture and slips away, turns, fluidly stepping into his primary form, wings unfolding into sky, diving for it. The wind does its work in carrying him farther away, until the bird is but a bronze speck on morning teal.

what am I supposed to do with my life now?

[aut_augur]

clearly you need to log with me again.

[gerfaucon]

;~~~~; yes plz

[aut_augur]