A Meeting Under the Moon

[Dakirennis 959]

 

Spoiler

 

 

The Primarch sat alone in Velunor at edge of the docks, a perpetual haze of smoke seemed to permeate from his being. The waters of the harbor were still that night as they shined softly under the moon’s tender glow. Dak’ir closed his eye and smiled softly, seeming to bask in the light as well, soaking up it’s silver warmth. His pilgrimage had come to an end, and his training finally complete beneath the Ancestors. Everything had finally fallen into line and his dedication had brought him to the very beginning and ending of it all. A sense of pride and peace came to the humble ‘Ker and so he closed his eyes and fell once again into the world beyond.

 

 

Dak’ir felt more at home within Stargûsh’stroh than in the mortal coil. It was where he truly felt free, where he felt he belonged but he knew better than that. Than to fall to that temptation. He sat at the top of the mountain that housed the souls of the long forgotten ‘Ker of old and those of renewed faith, in the shadow of a city they once knew. 

 

Night had fallen on the Ancestral Realm and all was quiet. The Mother Moon’s soft touch felt this lone peak in this realm as well and under her gaze, they met once again. A tall ‘Ker woman clad in a brilliant, simple, white dress. Her hair the same snowy white and her eyes a pale silver, a perfect image of primordial dark elven beauty. “You come once again, shaman? Do you not tired of this old soul’s tales?” Truth be told, he could listen to her for ages, as vague as she could be sometimes. The woman before him could inspire armies or move the hearts of a people. Which had in fact been her duty in life. Veluleai the Prophet stood before Dak’ir in all her grace. The sleepy shaman turned from the cliff’s edge to face her fully, his ebon mane falling around his face as he bowed before her. The Ancestor gave a tired smile, as if the gesture had been wasted. She never seemed to care much for formality or praise, Dak’ir had noticed, and after an awkward greeting he spoke what was on his mind. Seeking guidance once more. “Do you think they are prepared? Do you think some will care to know? Or even accept?” The elfess did not hesitate. “Gather your faithful, your strong, your kin. You cannot force that which is a constant motion. We are a wayward people, and the Old Ways are not for all in this modern time they should not be your concern. Our true people, the Ancestors and the Spirits should.” Dak’ir nodded at her wise words. He’d learned long ago that he could no longer waste time on those not wishing to learn. This was a game of preservation, not influence.

 

Dak’ir nodded to the wise elder’s words and the two spoke just a little longer into the night. The shaman sat and listened like an attentive child as she spoke of the times before conflict. Of peace and worship under the mountain and moon. Oh how he yearned for even a fraction of that. And as the crescent moon began to slip and they sky turned to the soft pink of the morning, Dak’ir bid his farewell to this most honored Ancestor, knowing their precious meetings were all too rare
 

[ThatFunkyBunch 2818]

Is slightly annoyed at himself for  sleeping on this post for so long.