Timestamp: Late afternoon - 78th of Summer, 510 AV A powdered blue sky was spread across the horizon like the stroke of an impossibly broad paint brush. Wispy clouds trailed across it with a semblance of order. They looked as if stirred by an ocean current toward a destination of which only they were privy. The sun was low in the heavens but shining valiantly. The glowing disk was not yet on the verge of surrendering its reign of the sky to the moon and stars. Every object and structure seemed awash in gilded light as if the day was making a desperate bid to remain just that much longer. A breeze chattered easily through leaves of the trees and meandered through the Windmount stables. It carried with it the full, robust scents of Summer and the merest hint of the Fall to come. It was a fine day to be out under the sky and out in the wind, at least in Athrias’ humble opinion. Athrias had been riding for hours. Letting the wind whip at his clothes, through Ermir's mane and into his face. Nothing mattered when the wind was with him. Whenever he had too much on his mind and not enough time to dedicate to unraveling each issue, he took to the stables and let his horse stretch his legs. Ermir was a tall Gildling steed, standing sixteen hands tall and colored a rich, reddish brown. His mane and tail were a lustrous black that the young man took great pains to keeping groomed well. Ermir was rather behaved for a Gildling but was not completely without his own brand of mischief. Thankfully the horse was contented this day with just riding through the golden light of the afternoon. The fledgling Stormwarden was leading his horse back to the stable reluctantly. He found himself wishing there were a few more hours in the day. Athrias considered the fact that Ermir’s lightly shimmering coat would produce a bit of light if he chose to ride during the night. Even so, he found himself meandering back to the stables. He did not have a clear destination in mind and would not just wander aimlessly outside the castle walls. Having reached a decision he was not entirely satisfied with, his lips pursed and gave an outward sign to his dissatisfaction. Athrias swung his leg over the back of his steed and landed on the left side of his horse. Ermir had been his for about two years and the young man had been learning to ride slowly but surely. It had not gone nearly as well or quickly as he had originally hoped. As he walked, Athrias found his thoughts wandering to his mother. Had she been there to learn from, he would have eagerly absorbed all she had to teach about riding. She was back with her Pavilion among the Opal Clan. If his sadness and anger had started as a jagged stones in his heart, the years that passed served as the flow of a river to smooth them completely. What had been a howling sadness had become a quiet, reserved melancholy that Athrias no longer found acutely painful. Even as entwined in his thoughts as he was, it would have been hard to miss Callisto. Her skin shone with a copper brilliance that was only accentuated by the sun. The Ethaefal woman’s hair was a dazzling red that hung long and straight while horns the color of pearls curled from her temples. They were not those of a beast but instead looked as if they were crafted from glass. Athrias had never seen anything like Callisto and took a few moments to absorb the sight of her. The woman seemed to the Stormwarden as if she had sprung from rays cast by Syna herself and he found her form achingly beautiful. The closest he had come to any divine being was many years ago, in the grip of a storm brought to him by Zulrav and even then he had not seen the face of his god. His light blue eyes did see Callisto’s Ethaefal form very clearly however and it did not take a scholar to know that she was not entirely of the mortal realm. Athrias did not know this in the sense of practical knowledge; more accurately it was something he felt was truth. Athrias was battling the desire to stare, to be held enthralled but the one thing he could not defeat was the curiosity regarding the Ethaefal before him. He almost felt as if he shouldn’t approach Callisto; she a sculpture crafted by hands infinitely more skilled than any mortal and he a humble patron of some divine museum. Looking to Ermir as if the Gildling were a confidant urging him toward some form of equanimity, the man shook his head slowly. There would be nothing gained from staring like a child at Callisto so he walked toward her. As he drew closer, Athrias could see that she was but mere inches shorter than he. “It is a fine afternoon for a ride. Have you taken one today?” said Athrias with a warm smile. His blue eyes would meet almost evenly with her citrine colored orbs should she turn toward him. |