Post by peachbug on Dec 25, 2008 20:49:49 GMT -6
Jahtil was resting beside his lifemate Inga within the recesses of a cave, shaped smooth and well above the smashing high tide by a rockshaper and friend long since returned to the true home. Some of their kin preferred to rest within the waters or closer to the waters, but since they gave themselves entirely to the sea during the day, the two chose this time for the stars.
Rocks shaped as stairs, left rough for grip and naturality, wound warily up the rocks to their retreat. It was not so high up, but defended them from tide and predators of land. The overhang was slightly withdrawn so one within could gaze out with little trouble. The night was deep now, but Inga had fallen asleep quickly and Jahtil did not wake her. Their spirits swam the stars in dreams better than waking time.
Jahtil gazed out at the sea and stars as one as his mind drifted deep within itself, slipping behind the tug of sleep into a motionless, feelingless blackness. All elves he knew who could've joined him here had passed and now he roamed formless in the emptiness. He never found the High Ones here, but supposed such minor pursuits of spirit were of little interest to them. He reached forward in the pure dark and withdrew, when to his surprise, a cool spark passed him, brushing his spirit so faintly he could only collect himself to reach again.
Nothing. Disappointment and curiousity left him quickly. These things happened occasionally, whether from dreams crawling into his mind or simply imagination. There was nothing in the blackness.
Rocks shaped as stairs, left rough for grip and naturality, wound warily up the rocks to their retreat. It was not so high up, but defended them from tide and predators of land. The overhang was slightly withdrawn so one within could gaze out with little trouble. The night was deep now, but Inga had fallen asleep quickly and Jahtil did not wake her. Their spirits swam the stars in dreams better than waking time.
Jahtil gazed out at the sea and stars as one as his mind drifted deep within itself, slipping behind the tug of sleep into a motionless, feelingless blackness. All elves he knew who could've joined him here had passed and now he roamed formless in the emptiness. He never found the High Ones here, but supposed such minor pursuits of spirit were of little interest to them. He reached forward in the pure dark and withdrew, when to his surprise, a cool spark passed him, brushing his spirit so faintly he could only collect himself to reach again.
Nothing. Disappointment and curiousity left him quickly. These things happened occasionally, whether from dreams crawling into his mind or simply imagination. There was nothing in the blackness.