cracking | elinor & isiah
ἐξαίσιος (exaisios) beyond what is ordained or fated | for inspiration, listen here A vision of grandness crumbled; a taste that something is cracking. Both Isiah and Elinor feel it, albeit in different ways. Isiah cannot get the image of a golden, cracked throne from his mind, while Elinor sees something else… An echo of a memory from a life so similar to her own, yet so different… The pair run into each other and, sensing each are experiencing something similar, are stuck with each other’s company, if only for a moment.
@elinor-ptolemy
Iapetus stared out at the sea, unseeing. He’d been dragged from his bed by the persistent itch of intrusive thoughts that were not his own, images of splintered gold haunting his mind every time he closed his eyes. It had lingered and lingered and lingered, stealing the peace from his mind and the weariness from his bones. He’d pulled himself from his wife’s sleeping embrace because of it, sliding into his boots and fastening his cloak as the vision took him walking.
The soft brush of footsteps in the sand drew his attention, hand falling to the hilt of his sword even though some instinct told him that it was unnecessary. And it truly was; he could scarcely imagine a less threatening figure than Lady Ptolemy in the moonlight, pale and wide-eyed as a doe.
It was those eyes that drew his attention. The distance in them.
With a sigh, he half-turned back to the rolling black waves. His whole mortal life, they had given him comfort. Now, they failed to soothe his mind. Just the way everything else did, just as no food, no wine, not even the touch of his wife’s lips had been able to pull the image from his mind. And something told him that he wasn’t the only one seeing things, if the girl’s gaze was as faraway as it seemed.
“Do you see it too, lass?” he asked, voice soft as he watched the water lap at the shore. In his mind, the throne lingered. Glorious, lavish, useless.