ENTER : THE DELUGE, LANGUID AND IMPOSSIBLY BLASÉ. the clearing, once empty, now filled. moonlight-blanketed poppies, and untamed, wild grasses barely swish around the new and abrupt presence. they wave softly in the slight breeze here, seemingly welcoming the return of the king. in the faint white light, he allows himself a deserved stretch, arching his back with a slow roll of his shoulders— the day had been long, but good. productive. meaningful. there weren’t many days like this, and he knew well enough to appreciate it while it lasted.
long before the hunter arrives, its coming is spoke of. in the murmur of the trees, in the crunch of dead leaves, and in the familiar smell in the air. as it breaches into the clearing, ( as elegantly as one could considering its situation ) the great waters twist and turn to face it. if it were gifted with a mouth, it’d breach into the softest of smiles. the very air around it grows lax, the ever-tenseness of its presence drawing into an easy posture.
❛ were it left to my limbs alone, i’d never make it on time, ❜ he remarks honestly, a hint of amusement in his soft tone. ❛ ... i’ve only been here a moment. you needn’t worry. ❜
if the hunter had the gift of sight, it’d see the monolith extend an arm invitingly——— for that place beside him or an embrace is not quite known, for his arm lowers just as it joins him there. however selfish it may be, he is glad in that moment that it stared blindly ahead, for his gaze had not once left it since it arrived. focused quite intently on that sea of blue. on the curve of its shoulders. on the curl of its fingers. on the— oh, everything.
a contented clicking rises in his chest. ❛ did the day treat you well, my dear blue ? ❜