Onna'evatril; The life of a Moondancer

[Syracuse]

“But why do they have to stay all the way down there? I want to meet them."

A massive set of gold eyes look up onto a far taller moon elf man. His garb is extraordinary, his hair of blue neatly trimmed and of style. But for all the vibrancy of his silken vest, ruffled shirt, and perfectly tailored leather pants and boots, the coldness in the moon elf's equally golden eyes flows as steadily as a winter breeze through Eva's hair. His temper only barely being restrained behind tightly pursed lips as the man regards his son, still so young and naive. Eva's hand remained framed within his own, so tiny and delicate. Thin and frail, with a youthful warmth that could feel every. Single. Disgusted thump. Of his beating heart.

"But the guards let them this close. Why can't I meet them? I want to know their names, and where they come from. I want to ask them what they do-"

The chill surrounding the pair increases as his father’s clenched jaw opens. Like the maw of a porcelain bear-trap, perfect in sculpting, beautiful in the light, but dangerous in its very existence. He speaks as one does to children. Condescendingly.

"That is enough, Onna'evatril. They come this close for the foolish notion that they are allies, and elf friends. But at least they will not ever walk within our home proper."

Eva's eyes cast downwards once again atop the hats of several strangers. At the tender age of seven years old, those wide gold eyes still held a wisdom to them as Eva surveyed the humans far, far below them. They had looked so beleaguered when they first arrived, perhaps come to harm on their travels. Seeking respite at the Halfway Inn, where a small child had spied on them. Eager, thirsty young eyes to look on something unfamiliar. Now their steps were spritely, direct and with a renewed purpose. Comforted. But so very far away.

Eva realized there would be no other time to know them, before they died. And this made his tiny hand slide from father's grasp, and the delicate, bare feet of a child run for the ledge of the cliff.

"I'm going to go down there."

Eva didn't make it three steps to even test the mythal's capacity to simply walk down the edge of their marvelous miracle, Evereska, before Eva's father took him by the shirt collar. Yanking Eva from the ground outright, with a small toss back from the ledge. Eva's weight is like a leaf on the breeze, though it comes with a much heavier thud to the grass and soft earth.

"You will do no such thing. Get up, we're going home. I don't know what got into me to even entertain your curiosity coming this far."

Eyes still shocked from the violence only seem to double at his proclamation, growing teary. Eva's hands shake and shudder. Fear and outrage paint the slender boy’s chubby cheeked expression as Eva begins to cry out.

The first of many fights that would tear them apart exited the child's lips. First blood across the family was drawn.

"I hate this! I want to go meet them! Why are you so cruel!?"

The porcelain bear-trap's jaws gaped, spittle and outrage escaping its perfect teeth and flawless complexion.

"You will get up, now, or so help me I will -throw you- from this cliff. It's bad enough those creatures even know where our home is, my family will -not- be sullied by their poisonous presence. Not even you."

His disappointment, as always, is so thinly veiled. Eva's entire body hurts beneath those eyes. How they can look so much like hisown, but be filled with so much unbearable worry and hate.

Eva slowly collects himself from the ground. Big, golden, tear stricken eyes look to the ground. The taller man takes his son by the shoulder, a shaking terror in his countenance for what he may do should his child push any further. Like moss on stone, there's a attempt to comfort there. But it's too little. Far, far too little, to take back what was said.

The youthful chirp in Eva's voice is gone, croaking and sobbing instead.

"I just wanted to make friends..."

Though his eyes are warm, apologetic and hopeful, his voice is adamant.

"There there, Onna'evatril. You'll make better friends. Elven friends. Come. We'll be late for dinner, and your brothers will be voracious after their lessons."

It does nothing to dissuade Eva from glancing back over shoulder, and pushing long blue bangs from his eyes. Just one final glance on the strangers, the breath of something new is stolen. Already gone from sight.

((Edited: Killing ambiguous pro-nouns, cat's outta the bag~.))

[Syracuse]

Eva sat alone within his room. His father, his three brothers, his three sisters, each had all gone to reverie at this point. The moon as always penetrated the estate window, taller than three servants in height, to fill his room with vivid silver.

Dinner had gone as typical as ever. Being of such a young age, Eva’s squeaky little voice did nothing to penetrate the boisterous tone of his brothers. There wasn’t a spare moment to even join the giggling of his sisters whom plotted over boys in the town or spoke of their latest works. Eva didn’t have much to say aside from childish reminders of what he had seen throughout the day. Not that something as ‘mysterious strangers’ nearby the foothills would make for compelling discussion… everything that was needed was given to them. Everything that was wanted, was imported. The world beyond had been thoroughly disenchanted to the pack of moon elves by none other than their father.

Eva just sat quietly throughout it all. Though he loved his many, many family members in the dining hall, from extended to the immediate, he still desired to speak up. Just get a word in amidst the table. For someone to hold what he had to say as important, just for a few seconds.

It wasn’t as if he was truly unhappy. Seizing up a pair of dolls from the ground, hand me downs from his sisters whom had been done playing with such things, yet found it equally amusing as it was sweet for their brother to trounce them about here and there, enacting stories from his childish books into reality. Today, they simply served as something to hug onto while Eva regarded the moon.

Swollen. Full. Beautiful and as bright as could be. The night, like every night, held warmth to it underneath the mythal. Despite the height of their home from the sea, the blueleaf trees outside merely rustled gently. No gales cut through the place until holy days of Aerdrie were observed, and even those hardly proved a real nuisance. Everything was perfection, and yet.

And yet his reverie had once again brought up topics he couldn’t understand. Worlds of peril, beautiful for their peril. Places of untamed growth, and untold populous, scurrying within the works of the world. People ugly and beautiful, buildings tall and small and more importantly, a dosage of reality.

Eva hadn’t been spared that evening, as every other evening before hand. A call tugged in his chest to wander and wonder, but when one’s body and mind are but seven years old. Well…
He’d have to make do with sneaking out of the estate. Gently slipping out into the night, scurrying bare foot through the grass, leaving his dolls to watch out the window and hold vigil for his return, sweetly holding one another’s fingerless hand. Or at least, that was the picture that Eva had painted of them.

It was no grand journey, though it felt grand for such skinny legs. Heart pounding and a grin plastered across his face for his own disobedience against Lord Moonwhisper’s demands, Eva penetrated the partially sleeping city, maintaining distance from its night time guardians and going unseen until his feet brought him before the sparkling temple of the Moonbow. Tall columns and white marble greeted his wide eyes, always taken breathless by the sight. As if he was entering Arvandor itself, all of the childish storming about and tumbling ceased, to quietly respect each magical mote of silvery light, each moonstone crafted work of art, with the reverence that it deserved.

The multitude of female attendants all seemed unsurprised by the small boy penetrating their sanctuary. Each one of them smiled flawlessly, a few of them even giggling to find the youth, once again, breaking the rules and searching amidst them, Eva shamelessly smiling back at each of them, admiring their long, flowing gowns. Their shimmering nature of walking in the moonlight with diaphanous gowns of white held his attention every moment. Though he still sought just the right one…

"Well well! The little master comes visiting, hm?"

Eva's feet left the ground alright as a pair of arms scooped him free of the Earth, tossed with a fit of laughter gently into the air, to land in the arms of a priestess.

"Zyrad!"

The mood lightened for the child immensely, though his legs did kick with little control as fingernails found their way across his stomach. Squealing loudly and abruptly breaking the unearthly silence of hallowed halls. The far taller priestess grinning in reply, silver strands of hair falling across her face from containing the child's struggles, a sharp blue reminiscent of ice and crystal inspecting her catch.

"Here to see your mother, hmmmmm? You shouldn't be out so late. A giant owl might just swoop down, and take you back to its nest! Then you'll have to learn to speak owl if you want to make new friends."

Eva's attitude turned wide eyed at the thought.

"Would it teach me to fly?"

Zyrad's shoulders shook with a brief snicker, just barely held back behind her teeth.

"Perhaps so! But I think the Dream Walker might miss you, dear. Speaking of which, her prayers ought to be done about now. Let's go see her."

Placed back down onto his feet, the youth takes Zyrad's hand. Beckoned deeper into the sanctum of the Moonbow.