12-31-2022, 05:58 AM
Philip’s gaze sharpened upon Nimeda. “Don’t presume that I am capable of forgiveness,” he corrected. The sternness in his voice was sharp as the ice blue of his eyes, which turned settled upon Mara. The little thing had peeled herself from Nimeda’s arms by then, and seemed more a child than a huntress of dreams and prophetess of nightmares. Children occupied one of the rare soft spots in Philip’s heart, and he found himself unable to scold her further. Such prohibitions explained his exaggerated retort to Nimeda. Because he knew she could handle his ire. Forgiveness was a virtue, and Philip claimed few virtues to his name. He was God’s representative on earth, but they were not on earth. They were in this collective head in which they all dreamed, and the fruits of the Holy Spirit were far from this rancid place.
He decided to elaborate. Though when he did, it was with his hands folded neatly together. The posture was one of showmanship, a habit that he created to design the image he wished to portray. As he spoke, ornate vestments of gold and green flickered around his shoulders, draping him with long yards of fabric like a shield barricading anyone from coming too close. If he gave any awareness of their presence, he was seemingly ignorant. “When I awakened upon this place, I found myself in a cavern. It was damp and dark, and I wandered through a maze of tunnels that splintered like branches of a tree. I came upon a pool and in that pool gleamed something that I have been seeking. A key. So I dived into the pool to retrieve it, and as I plunged deeper, something caught hold of my limbs. Then more clamped down, pulling and tugging. Remembering that I was submerged, the bubbles splayed from my lips like pleas that I be released. I was caught in a trap,” he concluded. By the end of the story, he was Noctua again, and ended up squat before Mara to peer deep into her eyes.
“One I did not appreciate,” he concluded.
When the lecture was ended, Philip stood tall once more. When they found the first key, it was when Nimeda’s assistance. An epiphany cleared his face of previous ire, and he blinked with newfound revelation.
“Do you think you can help me locate the next key?” he asked of Nimeda.
He decided to elaborate. Though when he did, it was with his hands folded neatly together. The posture was one of showmanship, a habit that he created to design the image he wished to portray. As he spoke, ornate vestments of gold and green flickered around his shoulders, draping him with long yards of fabric like a shield barricading anyone from coming too close. If he gave any awareness of their presence, he was seemingly ignorant. “When I awakened upon this place, I found myself in a cavern. It was damp and dark, and I wandered through a maze of tunnels that splintered like branches of a tree. I came upon a pool and in that pool gleamed something that I have been seeking. A key. So I dived into the pool to retrieve it, and as I plunged deeper, something caught hold of my limbs. Then more clamped down, pulling and tugging. Remembering that I was submerged, the bubbles splayed from my lips like pleas that I be released. I was caught in a trap,” he concluded. By the end of the story, he was Noctua again, and ended up squat before Mara to peer deep into her eyes.
“One I did not appreciate,” he concluded.
When the lecture was ended, Philip stood tall once more. When they found the first key, it was when Nimeda’s assistance. An epiphany cleared his face of previous ire, and he blinked with newfound revelation.
“Do you think you can help me locate the next key?” he asked of Nimeda.
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