With the eclipse going on, I couldn’t help thinking about what the sprites of Wellwood might think if the sun turned black for a few minutes in the middle of the day. Since they don’t have much reason to know what orbits are, they definitely wouldn’t make the connection that it’s the moon getting in the way.
Wellwood was a heartbeat of nervous energy. Cerul stood on the balcony of the cottonwood tree after the last twitchy-winged, concerned mother had fluttered back to her home tree. At last it seemed the tide of endless questions (mostly the same one) had ended. The sky and the air itself took on a strange tint as the last of the black disk slid over the sun far above them.
He only hoped he’d given the right advice. By the currents of worry on the air, he wasn’t sure.
Are you sure it’s going to be okay?
One after the other, they’d all asked.
Not knowing any more than they did about why the sun had decided to sleep in the middle of the day, Cerul had come up with the best he could. It was his duty to offer comfort and calm. Of course. The sun is simply … blinking. It will return shortly.
It hadn’t stopped anyone from hiding in their homes, but there was no panic. It was good for something. If the sun kept up its weird behavior, they might have to find a new solution, or comb the archives for advice.
A new emotion joined him on the balcony, and Cerul closed his eyes and took a slow, exasperated breath. There was restlessness and annoyance in the new aura. He’d recognize that anywhere. Scar grew impatient just like that when he waited for a battle.
Cerul opened his tarnished-gold eyes and turned his head slowly as his friend stopped next to him, his glare fixed on the canopy.
Cerul’s face was a neutral mask when he asked “Are you going to fight the sun, Scar?”
Scar finally broke his staring match with the muted-bright canopy. A flicker of sheepishness surfaced for only a moment before his usual righteous confidence overtook it. “Don’t think I wouldn’t if I could,” he grumbled back. “If it doesn’t blasted start acting its age, we need to be ready to do something.”
Cerul huffed, as much of a laugh as he could affect while the sun was blackened far above the forest. “And what might that something be?”
Scar grinned. “Difficult to say. You’re the planner, O Far Seeing,” he teased.
This time, Cerul’s scoff was less amused. He nudged at the stalwart knight with a wing. “I haven’t received any visions about this, so I doubt that it will be a danger to us.”
“For now all we can do is keep watch then, eh?” The disappointment didn’t need to tint Scar’s voice for Cerul to know it was there.
“That’s what I’ve been doing,” Cerul teased. “Where have you been?”
“Don’t get cheeky with me, I’ve been dealing with questions the same as you have!”
Cerul smirked and they turned their gazes back toward the canopy. They couldn’t see the sun beyond the leaves, but as they watched, the sky regained some of its normal hue.
Scar sighed. “Thank the Spirit.”
Writerly Things 