Oh bright embers light the late summer night,
remind of a lost star our young memories belie,
what became of you oh herald of summer storms,
how now in your name the wrong month mourns,
for you will not shine first and last eveningstar,
your jewels strung too thin to light a sky so far,
your time is gone and only embers shower,
fleeting streaks of fire in twilight hours,
oh Jovan now takes your lofty wandering place,– Rhaea’s Reverie, 173 E.R.
cold distant father some years in evenings late,
we call your days autumn, at an Emperor’s word,
the true names of a season so rarely heard.
Jovan 11th, 1 S.R.
A gray haired, half blind hanan shook their head, and laid down a card as shutters rattled. The floorboards rumbled through a quaint but pleasant little hovel. Reverberating from a crack worse than the closest thunder, that seemed to roll on forever. “Can you eclipse The Sun, my guest?”
A man, himself gray haired and silver eyed, a bit weathered and ragged, but youthful of features shook his head. He lay down The Child from three in his hand. One face half masked, the other inverse held a fan over the same and yet opposite side. “You go first, dear Ryahanae.” He drew from the deck on his right.
Ryahanae’s pale eyes shimmered through a translucent lavender with a tilt of the head. “Dear? So you have warmed to me, Mr. Grey?” The Lovers were laid on the seer’s side before The Sun. Always so hard to tell which side was up. More rumbles shook the land, and a distant roar echoed down lanes of a city. Walls of stone like little canyons catching the sound.Continue reading “VII:2 – Eveningstars”