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[indent][color=lightgray]Four days were nothing for Shirik.

They had watched mountains wither into sand. They saw inventions come and go, taking temporary revolutions with them. When the oceans of this time were but puddles in a bygone day, Shirik was there. When Archmagister Vyana’s ancestors walked the planet, Shirik was there. Time held little meaning for them anymore, and yet there was always something new with each passing day, each grain of sand in an hourglass that Shirik had perceived with their own eyes a thousand times from the comfort of a dimly lit cave. There was stillness and believing there was no end to things, and there was peace in moving forward with that knowledge.

It was for these reasons, among other things, that Shirik was content to simply exist in the presence of these foreign beings. Shirik watched them come and go for the last few days without bothering them or even uttering a word in their general direction. They watched them enter and leave the Jotumheim, doing one thing after the other, out of curiosity. They had a story they were writing by being here, by being who they were. By simply [i]being.[/i] With Silbermine temporarily out of the question, peace through motion seemed to be their retreat by Shirik’s observation. 

Meanwhile, Shirik was resting under the shade of a tree. Faint trails of smoke rose into the air from underneath the leather hood of their cloak, and the usual, roaring fire had long receded. The reservation of the waking fire that encompassed Shirik’s form seemed to embody the old Iriad’s state. As there was peace of mind, so too would there be peace in body. Shirik opened on eye and heared the “Vigdis” human converse with Nellara’s group. And she spoke in Steric through an odd thing on her arm. Perhaps their “temple” could keep up with this world after all, they thought.

Before slipping back into the flow of the world around them all, Shirik heared the sound of footsteps. Ixtaro had come looking for them, and by the looks of it, had the same object on her arm. Ixtaro had expressed a lot of interest in magic days ago. She seemed to be the only one, aside from Kareet, so enamored by Shirik’s skill with fire to actively seek them out. It seemed Shirik would be having a busy day, indeed. [color=d68300]”Ixtaro. Come, sit. Those bracelets speak for us both, I assume.”[/color] Shirik looked up at Ixtaro, and Ixtaro would see that Shirik was visibly less agitated today than the last time they met, when Shirik spoke of war and of Silbermine. How a sapient being without a mouth or the ability to form facial expressions could convey emotion by presence was a secret that only the gods could know, though.

[color=d68300]”Your home feels further away than it did days ago, I’m sure.”[/color]


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