PSL; [ VEILED IN NIGHT ]

[runir]

[He has slain demigods and gods alike. Legends felled under his blade, or torn asunder by his magics. He has suffered the burden of immortality to help usher in a new age, one of the cosmos and the brightest stars amongst the lonesome night. He may tilt the world’s axis with the weight of his accomplishments, having become more than what he once was. The children born of this age, and their children’s children, and generations beyond them, will spin his tales. He is tantamount to a new history itself.

And yet, next to her, he still feels so small.

She is a goddess by right of blood, newly unbound from her destiny to etch one in the stars anew. His own station was earned by wrath — for as well-intentioned his ambitions had always been, it was only through upheaval and violence that he managed to wrench his throne free of the shardbearers who’d keep their fragments of divine power clutched close. Rowan is forceable change; Ranni is the inevitability of opportunity, as vast as the night she veils across the Lands Between. Even her Empyrean corpse, a form long shed, felt ineffable to him. The ground she lay upon, unearthly.

Perhaps that is why, even now, he bends his knee to her, recumbent and head bowed, features shadowed by the hood he has kept up; in this case, it is a tactical choice, to hide his pinched brow and frown, unsatisfied and almost petulant.]

You needn’t leave now.

[Here, where the Erdtree once stood, lies only a plateau of night and a great, imminent moon. He is sure of her silhouette, softly outlined against silverly light, even if he does not cast his eyes up at her.]

Stay longer, Ranni. To do aught you couldn’t in the past. [When she was still bound by stars unmoving.] Before you leave me to a solitary throne.

[He has aided many, their ambitions small and large. But they have all died, or left, and that he should have to add her to that sorry list twists at his insides.]

Comments

[runir]

[There is a moment in which he believes that she will cast off his request and ascend into the stars, his words humored but unmoving. That she would leave, and it would not be forever, but long enough that maybe an age would crawl by before he would be graced by her presence again.

But Ranni sparks hope in her questioning reply, asks of him explanation and persuasion, more than what he could have expected. And yet his mind grasps for greater reasonings that would justify keeping a newfound goddess grounded to the earth, to indulge oneself in pleasures never afforded to them in the scope of their grand ambitions.

Why should she remain, even for a short while? Other than for his own selfish reasons, a want to cling briefly to what he has — to not immediately reign from a lonely throne, consort to a goddess dreaming in the cosmos beyond.

He lifts his head to look at her. Rowan has nothing to offer but the truth, and slowly, he rises to his feet.]

To exist in the presence of one another, fleeting as though it would be. The Lands Between is steeped in night, and should you not wish to see it with your own eyes, free from what bound you before? To look upon the waters of Lake Liurnia, reflecting the moon. To ride stop Torrent along the rim of the giant’s great forge, and see if those embers still flicker in the darkness? Many things. Any.

[To live ludically.]

To feel whimsy, until responsibilities claim us both again. For an age.

[unweaver]

[sweet words, and by all rights, she should dismiss them as unworthy reasons. not pressing enough to halt the flow of the world again, to hold its fate in limbo. the power of the runes needs to be aligned, and there is...

so much has to. so much needs to. it has been years upon years in the divine flow of time - others would consider it an age all its own - since the idea of want to was allowed to sprout under the moonlight. there is honesty in Rowan's gaze, and it pulls to her like a tide. it tells her, who would know? who would forbid it? her own nature will prevent her from abandoning duty forever, and it is her own nature that has driven her on, forward and forward, planning and plotting and thinking and trying so hard to uproot what was always rotted at the core.

no one could tell them no. it is only Ranni who can decide. and her heart, somewhere under dolls form and all the frost of her magic, says something so quiet, but so loud.

she takes a step closer to him, and then another.]

So, not only do you possess the crown of a lord, but the silver tongue of one as well.

[it's gentler, and her eyes remain on him.]

I concede. For the moment, the ascent is halted. Not for always, but for enough - that we might pass moments together, and see the Lands without the haste previously so required.

[runir]

[I concede. She says it, and he cannot bother to hide his smile; Rowan pulls his hood down to reveal his expression, bright-eyed and pleased. A weight lifted with her acquiescence, as though time itself has stilled to allow them a few moments' ease. At her will, it might as well have.]

Was it not my silver tongue that earned a place by your side?

[To convince her that he would be a loyal follower, even if under the not-so-hidden guise of locating her cursemark at Rogier's behest. Strange, how far both of them have come since then.

His features soften.]

Thank you, Ranni. I know you do little more than humor me, but I will make it worth your while.

[Here, his hand slips into his pocket, to pull out a familiar whistle. It pipes as clear as a bell, and in a rush blue, ghostly magic, Torrent appears beside them both. His friend paws at the starry ground with a hoof, flicking an ear.]

Come. [He swiftly mounts his steed, and holds out a hand to Ranni, beckoning. The mirror image of just moments ago, when she had reached out to him.] We go wherever you like. Torrent will ride undeterred with an honored guest on his back.

[unweaver]

[stranger things have happened, she could say. how her own mother met her father as bitter enemies in the battlefield, and yet found happiness, love. and it is not only to humor him, but to give his words and his viewpoint a chance. it has been a long time since she found reason to smile so, and thankfully, this body does not crack with it.

when he extends his hand, she moves to take it with one of hers - this form is cooler to the touch, but she can propel herself up with a touch of magic to sit behind him, briefly and gently touching Torrent on his flank. he has been no less a hero himself, and she must devise a proper thanks, for bearing up under it all as he has. like this...she feels a tender ease, emotions creeping from the chest where she wanted to lock them at present.

it will make it all the harder to go, in the end.]

Where is somewhere you cherish, Rowan? There is where I wish to go.

[to know more of you, she might as well have spoken aloud. because that is a wish she can allow herself right now - to simply travel, and ask questions again, though in a much larger form. surely in the breadth of these lands, there must be many places he cares for.]