Timestamp: 25th of Summer, 517 A.V.
The warm air of the rainforest hung densely in the air, as it always did, but was slightly lighter and less packed than it was in the afternoon.
Trevor, meanwhile, made his way up the long ramp that climbed into the jungle's canopy; his boots slipped slightly with each step against the morning dew that had accumulated against the ramp's hard boards.
As Trevor's boots were squeaking against the ramp that he was now coming to the top-most point of, an orchestra-like singing of nature was rising up from the jungle's floor as the world's wildlife awoke from their night's rest; the song of the jungle echoed and whistled through the leaves of Syka's trees, combining to sing and whistle with and on the wind. The excitable quipping of dragonflies, the steady and cynical croaking of jungle toads, and the upbeat musings of prismatically colored morning birds filled, swirled about, and kissed Trevor's ears softly as he reached the suspended deck that served as Syka's commons area.
Trevor felt an ethereal floaty feeling swirling in his legs and chest, knowing that he was now suspended many, many feet above the ground; he was not sure if it was a product of his imagination or in all actuality the reality of the situation, but he almost thought that he could feel the Common's deck shifting slightly with the wind and with the trees that the deck was lashed and tied strongly to.
With the wispy, dream like lightness that came freely with the best of mornings pooling in his heels, Trevor allowed his feet to carry him through the fresh, morning air and to the outer, northern railing of the deck that he now walked upon. The man set his hands down upon the railing; as he sat them down on the railing's surface, his palms were covered in the dew that sat upon the humid-feeling wood--but the warm nature of Syka had already warmed the morning's dew and Trevor felt no shock or chill at touching the liquid, nor any need to withdraw his hands, he instead embraced the wetness as another atmospheric gift that only added to the airy beauty of the jungle morning.
Trevor's eyes settled on the leaves of the treetops that stretched out, seemingly endlessly, before him, just as a pair of yellow and black parrots flew by the Common's deck. The birds swirled and glided, rotating and playing on each other's movements. The parrots never flapped their wings, appearing as if they cut through the wind by sheer will and merit of their beauty alone--it was as if the wind had decided to simply support the avian creatures without question, so that they could engage in their aerial play unmolested and so that all could clearly see and enjoy the simple and wholesome, natural niceties of the birds' graceful and clean movements.
One of the birds that Trevor was looking at squawked a playful cry, as it spun over the head of its flying partner and took her place, leaving said female bird to now fly over the top of the bird who had loosed the lighthearted squawk. At the same moment, a single ray of sunlight slipped through the jungle in just the right way as to reflect off of a silver pin that held tightly to Trevor's coat, a pin that was in the shape of a feminine and aesthetic swallow.
Birds always made Trevor think of his late wife, the very same woman who had once owned the bird-shaped broach that now stood proudly pinned to his chest; in the moment of watching the birds at play, Trevor could feel the presence of the pin almost as strongly as he felt that of his own right arm--in this way, he felt almost somewhat closer to his departed wife, the single moment in time and the beautiful aerial display of the parrots serving to carry him back in time, if only in his own mind. The young man smiled, as he enjoyed the bounty of beauty that Syka's untamed glory presented before him and that of his own lost and distant memories.
He knew he would have to go to the Panacea soon, but for now he would enjoy both the warmth of the present and of the past--and he would smile if only every so softly.
And indeed, the man did smile--with a sense of longing and appreciation for the delicate beauty and possibilities of life, he smiled.
And, for the first time, the pair of parrots flapped their winds; the two birds threw themselves upwards with the force generated by their flapping and, with the sound of feathers cutting softly through damp air, they disappeared into the wilderness.
Seasonal Wordcount: 4,730 + 795 = 5,525
