2024-07-26 - There's so much to celebrate - Touching Pt 3

The Wheel

A repeating melody with the occasional variation, like a wheel hitting a rut in the road. This one seems to roll ever onward, looking forward to Hatchings but accepting things as they come. It does not spark Ilrioth as a particularly creative mind, and the two part ways, ships passing in the night.

The Sun

It is a joyous thing to be alive isn't it? The woman's sunny outlook was a stark contrast to many of the gray and dark feelings that permeated the air post-quake. But oh, oh Ilrioth knew something she did not, knew something that would throw storm clouds over that sun. Not all of the eggs had made it, not all of the clutch would hatch. There would be songs left unsung. But that did not mean they have to give into despair. They should live, would live, for those that could not. To this sunny one, he sang a song of hope and resilience in the face of loss, no unlike the one he sang for his Others on that fateful day.

The Moon

What a shy song, a quiet harp on the edge of hearing, echoing into depths unseen and hidden. Why so quiet? Ilrioth found himself reaching out, crooning something like a lullaby. Sing with me, friend, let our voices entwine. Do not be afraid, let your song be heard, even just by me.

The Star

No you. Is Ilrioth's thought as he pushes those feelings of happiness, trust, and wishes for health back at the desperate young man. If wishing together, for each other, was what it took for both of them to be hale and hearty then so be it! Let that shrill screeching alarm mellow into melodic woodwinds, let peace and fine fettle flow into all.

The World

Now this one had the right idea of what a bond should be! A deep and personal love between rider and dragon. The boy's faith, or at least, bravado that he would Impress this time makes Ilrioth hope this statement to be true. They are curious about these things the boy wants to do when he grows up, especially if bonding a dragon seems to be an important factor. But an unknown future is not something to fret over, it thinks. It is something to contemplate, perhaps, celebrate even, but to fear a thing that is not and may never be? That only adds discordance to the song.

Death

An exhaustion that is not their floods into Ilrioth as a young woman who very much seems to need a nap, slouches into the eggs' space. Her heart is not in this, and her mind is in the present moment only enough to function. There is no joy here, there is not even fear. Just a deep, dragging weariness. As her hand slides limply across his egg, Ilrioth hums soothingly. These hard times will pass, have strength, take rest, believe.