Fantasy Wretched Gears of Time

[Obsidian]

Elathin would continue to sleep despite the disturbance, his body still healing while his mind was exhausted from his use of magic, and the young prince slept near dead to the world right up until morning. The gentle sway of the wagon and the blow of the wild through the trees outside was even soothing. It would not be until morning that Elathin would wake, noticing something strange with his hair, and he walked over to a mirror to see that his hair had been braided. Did someone do that to him in the night? Elathin took some time to unravel the braids, returning his hair back to normal, before looking to his bandages, now dry. They would have to be changed, but later. Elathin gathered himself, headed out of the bedroom, and down the stairs to find the others.

 

[Alonthra]

Crone was so engrossed by her work that she didn't know Elathin had woken up. Shadow tugged her sleeve trying to get her attention. "Not now." another tug. "What is.. ? Oh, I see someone is um." she forgot who he was or how he got into her home. Shadow nudged the half assembled angel toy towards her trying to jog her memory. "What? What?" She looked at the toy but nothing seemed to click. "Ummm food? Was I helping you with something?" The toy wobbled again "Oh I guess this was yours. It's a bit of a mess." She pushed aside the animal toy and picked up the winged figure. It Let out a few bars of its song. Something that would have been familiar to Elathin. It wasn't exactly as he might remember notes were missing and off key, but still recognizable lullaby from his childhood.

The fact was that all the gadgets in this caravan were from past lives. Each as broken and scattered as she was. Since he showed up something had her a more fixated then normal on the toys. Which also made her frustrated with missing parts and things just not being as they should. She had not slept a bit since leaving Deggalt. Her guest being awake distracted her briefly from endless fiddling. "Umm food, food." Crone stood up and started to look through cabinets. She found the berries she picked earlier and made more tea. There wasn't much else to offer. "I don't have much. Elk seems to think that there is a place near by. A day or two out. Probably should be on the road. What day is this? I loose track so easily." She rambled off to himself before stopping half way through and then went out side to hitch up her steed. The wagon was off again about an hour later. "I have no idea what is in that creatures head but he seems to know where we are going. So tell me what brings you to Crone? Not often people wake up in my home." She sat down at the table and continued to fiddle with the winged figure the wings twitching with each broken cord.

 

[Obsidian]

As Elathin stepped into the wagon's lounge, he would find Crone fiddling with a small ornamental toy, one of the strange contraptions that so litter her home. The little music box playing its tune would draw the young prince's attention to it, and he would look at it with a wearily unfocused glare, clearly uncertain at what he was looking at and yet it felt somewhat familiar from somewhere. Elathin knows from his experience with his mother that the Stewards are strange and unknowable beings, and the objects that can be found in their presence can be just as strange and unknowable. As the music died, and the old woman rose to offer tea and berries, Elathin could only look at the meager offerings as though wondering what to do with them. He'll starve at this rate. And this Steward doesn't seem to understand eating. Or sleeping.

Then, after the old woman asked for the day, something he had to wonder about himself, she would then promptly leave and simply left Elathin unattended for some time. Little could he do but snack on the berries, drink the tea, and wander around the caravan until he felt the distinctive rock that signaled that they were on the move again. When the old woman was back, sat down to fiddle with the toy only to ask why Elathin was here in her home, his hopes that this Steward could somehow help him quickly sank into dispair. He woke up in a strange land, hurt and confused, surrounded by wingless humans, who tried to kill him only yesterday, and now the only help he has is a senile old Steward incapable of understanding almost anything. He can't even fly, or use his magic, and this world feels so... wounded. Hollowed. A feeling that made his feathers shudder.

In these moments, He felt completely alone and helpless. All he wanted was to go home. He just wanted to go home. And the old Stewards absent-minded question simply brought everything to the surface to Elathin, now in this moment of calm reflection, with little else to consider other than how totally fucked he is right now. How did he get here? Why was he here? What is happening to him? What will happen to him? All these questions, and more, ran through the prince's mind. And in these depths of despair, falling into a nearby chair, tears brimming in his eyes, and he could not seem to stop himself from weeping.

 

[Alonthra]

Crone heard the winged boy's weeping and grew uncomfortable. She didn't know what she said or did to offended her guest so. Not knowing what to say and not wanting to worry herself into a fit, crone returned to the toy figure. Humming to herself trying to remember the broken tune it was supposed to play.

Time passed, perhaps several hours, before the rune finally stuck. While the toy couldn't still play it, Crone had her eyes closed and seemed lost in it for a moment. When the lullaby reached it's end she opened them and looked up at Elathin. "I have been trying to remember that song for... I don't know how long." she was somber for a moment then brightened up a bit. "Come get some sun and fresh air. Sitting in this stuffy room will do you no good."

Getting up from the now cluttered table. Crone went out to the perch letting in a bright stream of sunlight. Outside birds were singing in the distance. The wagon now traveled off the worn road and through a field of wild flowers. Bees, butterflies, and an abundance of life seemed content to ignore the wagon and its passing. Behind them the Wandering mountain could faintly be seen with its small plume of smoke. Ahead were rolling hills dotted with trees. Elk pulled the wagon along with out guidance wandering were he wanted and taking the rest of them with him. Yet there was a drive and purpose to his choice of direction. He knew what to do because Crone did not, and this arrangement was the most natural thing for both of them. Crone sat and watched the world feeling more calm here than near her guests.

By the time the sun began to set Elk stopped near a point were the stream became a river and widened to the form a lake cradled by hills. "This looks like a good place to rest!" not that Crone had a voice in where Elk decided to rest. "I think I see fish!" Crone darted back inside and began to rummage again and came back out with a half torn net and a fishing pole. She unhitched Elk who then fallowed her and shadow down to the waters edge.