Solstice

Me: "Time to profit push! Sell everything! Get lots of gems!"
Actually me: *buys the most gorgeous dragon on the AH for 100g* "Dagnabbit-"

Me a few minutes later: "Why am I doing this to myself?"


A week later: "There's no stopping me, is there?"

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It was over the horizon of glimmering, rose-tinted sand where the sun made its final mark on the day. Its setting was watched by a Skydancer's quiet gaze, unusually pale light reflected in the depths of her eyes. This paleness, combined with the bright flicker of candles at her side, suggested that she would carry on the daylight long after the world was wrapped in night. As if this life was not tiptoeing along in the darkness already...

A soft sigh and she left her post at the window, striding alongside slants of evening sun back into her library. The oasis watchtower held a collection of books large enough to sate any mortal dragon, its shelves rising up hundreds of feet and curving around the circular room like a crescent moon, leaving one side completely open to natural light.

Its keeper worked her way among tables and study areas, gathering tomes under her arms and beginning to clean up the failures of a day's long work, leaving some promising volumes behind to read anew tomorrow. She'd cleaned maybe half her area before a crack like thunder lit the quiet, and turned her head. The library's massive double doors were opening.

An Imperial strode into the room, pale like the color of the bookkeeper's eyes, except for patches on his wings where the leathery surface had molted away and left a strange, black surface behind. Bands of equally black cloth, marked with runes whose meanings were long since lost, laid over his body in winding loops and gave no restraint to his graceful walk. A philosopher's blindfold lie loosely around his neck, leaving his cherry-drop gaze free to roam; his eyes were the red of a disease that had long since found peace with its host.

"Solstice," he greeted softly, voice youthful but carrying the weight of the universe with each word, "You sent for me...?"

"Yes, Hyperion sire," the Skydancer dipped her head, just as Hyperion had to do the same, to keep his four antlers from scraping the top of the doorway. She had to crane her neck to view the gentle giant, "Two of our halo-bearers have spoken to me."

"Oh?" Hyperion's head tilted slightly, carefully kept away from the tidy bookshelves. He padded to the tower's window area where there was enough room for him to curl up and lie down, making it easier to address Solstice. She clambered onto a Pearlcatcher-sized seat across from him to aid her height, and the two were finally able to meet with even gazes.

"Whose words hear you, my friend...?" Hyperion murmured.

"Those of Ritam," Solstice nabbed a notebook from nearby and flipped through it until she found the message where she'd recorded it, "She's reached the Great Furnace, and put forth your request to the Chainmaker. She plans to return by Flameforger's Festival," the notebook closed with a snap, "Will that be soon enough, sire?"

Hyperion closed his eyes and did not answer. And Solstice did not disturb him. Prophets, philosophers...each did their deepest thinking when rendered blind. They wore their veils to negate as many senses as they could afford, honing their mind with each one lost, and shutting out the world to better delve in their own psyche. Over time, Hyperion had become a master of doing so.

Sure enough, only a few seconds had passed when the Imperial opened his eyes again and hummed, "It will be enough. We could afford until Rockbreaker's Ceremony. Ritam may fly with her wings, not ours."

"Yes sire," Solstice murmured contentedly. If Hyperion had confidence in this time schedule, then so did she. By Flameforger's was enough.

"Solstice...?" she snapped her gaze back up at the sound of his voice, "You claimed you've another message...?"

Solstice felt her insides churn with unwanted stress, "From Tiresias, sire... The prophet speaks for you alone..."

Hyperion looked admirably unfazed.

"Her words...?"

Solstice didn't need to reach for her message book as she retold, "The chains will not hold this time. They will not be enough," she bowed her head apologetically, "This is the prophet's prediction."

After a moment, the Imperial gave a small hum, stretching to his feet. With slow and calculated movements, he made his way back to the library's door.

"I think the prophet discovers delight in pessimism at times," he decided, unworried, "But it would not do to show overconfidence..." he laid his scarlet eyes on Solstice and she bolstered herself with her belief in this dragon, "...Shall we have a look for ourselves...?"

There was no hesitation in the Skydancer's voice.

"I'll lead the way, sire."

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