2024-06-23 - What is in a name? - 4.1

It was a demand, one had decided. A demand to be called something, a demand to be heard, to be noticed, to be understood. He ached for it too, but it was certainly a loud demand, interrupting the musings they had been pondering. One was almost a little annoyed by it, but, at their core, they understand.

It was a declaration too, of love and care, dedicating this revelation to Mother, to her gleaming and gleaning that nurtured him into Rocranth. A good name, a strong name to call him by, but not one that one liked for himself. Why would he? It sounds so harsh, so unsuitable to his own timid nature (as little as they want to accept it as such, one does not simply turn its back on the sea and ignore an incoming storm) but for Rocranth? It was a good name, tasting it as quietly as one possibly could, in moments of peace and sleep.

Then, the questions arose, as they always did, as they always will. It is an inevitability, but this time, it was a welcome one. The idea of a name fascinated one, something to identify with so thoroughly that it becomes him, that all shall know him as such. He wanted a good name, one that sings like the birds Mother so often dreams about. One that flows like a river to the sea, splitting into little brooks and creeks until it permeates the land and leaves nothing untouched, and yet, is not suffocating, is pleasant and cooling, soothing to the soul.

As was his nature, though, he stilled, he waited and he continued aching, watching and listening as, one by one, most decided on their names. Beautiful names, so fitting to them, even those that they didn’t know press close to, even those that they were frightened of. He waited.

He waited until the ones with confidence announced, until the angry roared and until the meek decided, and yet still, he waited. None of them were his name, none of them fit. They ached, one’s pain rocking within their chest until it felt like the entire not-so-empty empty quivered. What to call themselves?

They wanted peace, they wanted the world, they wanted and wanted and wanted and knew not how to ask for it. They craved these things with such a bone-deep want that they felt what little of their jaws ache. His claws scraping. His teeth gnashing together, trying to bite and claw and pull the realisation closer, before…

He settled down, hiding himself away as he did so many times before.

Not now. Not yet.