All the Ways I Do Not Know You [World Event 1] (Private)
Mar 19, 2024 19:16:00 GMT -5
Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Mar 19, 2024 19:16:00 GMT -5
It’s strange, really, how achingly familiar new circumstances can end up being.
Kvasir is accustomed to running all manner of errands for the Consortium, accustomed to flitting about every part of Charon for the sake of visiting patients, collecting plants, gathering components or investigating whatever alchemical crimes may potentially storm the nations, so on and so forth. Even though he’s settled in the Oasis, found permanence in a life he thought would forever be devoid of it, the heart of a wanderer still sits within his ribs, still beats, still carries him to the far reaches of the continent. He’s wandered the land a dozen times, been more places for more reasons than he could ever remember, and yet–
This particular venture really is so amusingly familiar; the kind of familiar that not even the divine could pry away from him, the kind he’s taken special care to burn into his memory, into books, anywhere he can archive it. A journey into the forests of the Moonglade, set to go search for a specific kind of flower, all beside his most trusted of companions– it feels so much like the night they first met, back in the depths of the Lantern Light Wood, guided together by a shared search for the same plant.
Their journey doesn’t take them out to the Lantern Light Wood this time, of course– the two of them have been sent out to the Giant Mushroom Field at the heart of Moonveil, asked by the Consortium to investigate a new and… unique outcropping of flowers that had sprung up there; the details had been sparse, merely that they were brightly saturated in color and mysteriously grew in a circle around one of the field’s many mushrooms, unlike any other flower marked down in the biological indexes they’d managed to gather.
"Unique," indeed.
All the same, no matter the difference in reasoning, in circumstance, Kvasir can’t help but feel nostalgic as he walks with Morrigan through the last stretch of the Moonveil Forest, each step a reminder of that night they’d first met, that idle, playful walk through the moonlit depths of the Lantern Light Wood together, their first meeting reforged anew, with different materials, with newer form. A little thrill flutters through his heart as he matches Morrigan step for step, unhurried despite the fact that they’re here on a mission, tail swishing back and forth, languid– he really can’t help it.
The night he’d first met Morrigan is one of his fondest memories– one of those things he looks back on with nothing but joy in his heart, one of the memories he clings to when he feels the most shattered, the furthest away from the world, the furthest away from himself. Looking back to how easily they’d fallen into step together, how eagerly Morrigan had leapt into action for his sake, how… natural it had felt to be by their side and continue being by their side afterward, it all just–
“It’s nice to be back here, wouldn’t you say?” he asks, his smile warm, gentle as he looks to the fellblood wandering beside him. There’s a glint in his eye, a softness in his voice, a nostalgia seeping into him inside and out, and he has no desire to keep it contained. “Last time we came out to the Moonglade together was for the moths, wasn’t it?”
Kvasir is accustomed to running all manner of errands for the Consortium, accustomed to flitting about every part of Charon for the sake of visiting patients, collecting plants, gathering components or investigating whatever alchemical crimes may potentially storm the nations, so on and so forth. Even though he’s settled in the Oasis, found permanence in a life he thought would forever be devoid of it, the heart of a wanderer still sits within his ribs, still beats, still carries him to the far reaches of the continent. He’s wandered the land a dozen times, been more places for more reasons than he could ever remember, and yet–
This particular venture really is so amusingly familiar; the kind of familiar that not even the divine could pry away from him, the kind he’s taken special care to burn into his memory, into books, anywhere he can archive it. A journey into the forests of the Moonglade, set to go search for a specific kind of flower, all beside his most trusted of companions– it feels so much like the night they first met, back in the depths of the Lantern Light Wood, guided together by a shared search for the same plant.
Their journey doesn’t take them out to the Lantern Light Wood this time, of course– the two of them have been sent out to the Giant Mushroom Field at the heart of Moonveil, asked by the Consortium to investigate a new and… unique outcropping of flowers that had sprung up there; the details had been sparse, merely that they were brightly saturated in color and mysteriously grew in a circle around one of the field’s many mushrooms, unlike any other flower marked down in the biological indexes they’d managed to gather.
"Unique," indeed.
All the same, no matter the difference in reasoning, in circumstance, Kvasir can’t help but feel nostalgic as he walks with Morrigan through the last stretch of the Moonveil Forest, each step a reminder of that night they’d first met, that idle, playful walk through the moonlit depths of the Lantern Light Wood together, their first meeting reforged anew, with different materials, with newer form. A little thrill flutters through his heart as he matches Morrigan step for step, unhurried despite the fact that they’re here on a mission, tail swishing back and forth, languid– he really can’t help it.
The night he’d first met Morrigan is one of his fondest memories– one of those things he looks back on with nothing but joy in his heart, one of the memories he clings to when he feels the most shattered, the furthest away from the world, the furthest away from himself. Looking back to how easily they’d fallen into step together, how eagerly Morrigan had leapt into action for his sake, how… natural it had felt to be by their side and continue being by their side afterward, it all just–
It felt right.
And this, too, feels right.
“It’s nice to be back here, wouldn’t you say?” he asks, his smile warm, gentle as he looks to the fellblood wandering beside him. There’s a glint in his eye, a softness in his voice, a nostalgia seeping into him inside and out, and he has no desire to keep it contained. “Last time we came out to the Moonglade together was for the moths, wasn’t it?”