Zephyr

Sour mist rises as rain beats down on lava and new stone alike. A storm, blown over from the Expanse, heavy with lightning and wearying rain.

Memories flash and coil and stir, as if illuminated by the lightning that laces itself across the sky.
Snatches of music lace the air, shadowy and almost forgotten. An old memory, snatches of harmony captured in the stone and brought free by the winds and rain.
Thunder shivers the bones, and an old comfort comes unbidden.

"When thunder roars, it is your ancestors wishing you well with the voice they still have, little wind."


But those that came before are dust now, forgotten but for the nearly lost clutches, now awakened to time once more.


His vision dims and sharpens in a wave, and he wonders what it must have been, while the world was newer.
A shiver of thunder, and with ease of old practice, he takes to the sky, living up to his name.

He dances with the lightning and wind, and remembers music drawn from stone, and snippets of what were perhaps words.
But they fade and blur before he can catch them. Might as well have tried to catch smoke.


He chases memories in the wind and rain for a time, as steaming fog roils in the howling winds. And then he tilts his wings back down, back to the shelter of rich greenery, and lets the memories be washed away.
It is the now that matters, and the clan he has found. The ghost of the past can remain there, worn glassy smooth and clouded by time.

The thunder growls an agreement, and he breaks through the tree cover, back home.

by the amazing @OpaledRhea