eighteen [action]

[imatreenow]

[Friday afternoon finds Mithos dragging a granite statue through the streets of Luceti. It will look familiar to those who can claim Aselia as their home world, carved adoringly in the likeness of a young man wielding dual swords. The figure is planted atop a base that bears a plaque engraved with the simple honor, "The Hero Lloyd Irving." All together, it stands at about three and a half feet, scaled down from the original model.

For Mithos, it's a bitter reminder of things that could never have been. Its sudden appearance in his house had been an elbow nudging him sharply in the ribs, an obnoxious stage whisper prompting, "Hey, remember that time all your hopes and dreams were crushed?"

Yes, yes he remembers.

Which is why he had to get rid of it. The first day, he dragged the statue behind the house, let it topple into the river, and watched the determined stony face sink below the surface. The next morning, it found its way back to his living room. Each day, he drags it farther away, and each morning it proudly comes back.

His route today takes him up from the south end of the village through the north end and into the woods. The farther away, the better.]

Comments

[winds_voice]

... [Why does that statement hurt him? Was it really that hopeless to keep trying to convince someone who had apparently been through so much already? Eley was beginning to feel that way. Perhaps now wasn't the best time to keep pushing.

He gives a nod.]

Well... perhaps we will meet again one day. Do you have a name?

[imatreenow]

[The suspicion that had colored his expression at the start of this encounter hasn't gone anywhere. But he also can't push away the quiet scratching at the back of his heart that tells him they aren't that different, and he doesn't know what to think about that.

He won't give his first name - it is a sign of trust that he grants to few - but he'll tersely answer.] ...Address me as Yggdrasill.

[winds_voice]

Yggdrasill...

[He tests. And since he offered, albeit tersely, the Spirit supposes he owes him a name in return if nothing else.]

You may call me Eleytheria. I hope that should we meet again, it might be in better circumstances.

[imatreenow]

[Mithos has nothing to say in response, because he isn't sure if he wants to cross paths with him again. When it comes down to it, he doubts that this spirit, Eleytheria, is any different from anyone else in this wide, cold world.

A dismissive hm will signal the end of the conversation. He turns back to the statue he'd been dragging along and quickly rubs his hands together before taking hold of the chilled granite again.]