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[indent][indent] [color=#808080]The world softened as he walked, the sand absorbing the sound of his footsteps. The commotion of the camp faded with each stride, replaced by the rhythmic, hushed cadence of the lake meeting the shore. Soon, the bonfire was no more than a dull orange smudge in the distance, obscured by the dark silhouette of the forest. The unseasonable heat clung to the late-night air, heavy with the scent of fresh water and the faint, carried murmur of voices from the field behind him.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias came to a stop where the land surrendered to the water. Before him, the lake lay vast and still, its surface a seemingly polished plane reflecting the heavens. The sky was a deepening expanse of indigo, already dotted with the bright pinpricks of emerging stars. He closed his eyes, and a subtle energy began to emanate from him; the faint crackle of current traced patterns over his arms, a luminous display against the dark. The very atmosphere seemed to warp at the edges of his form, and fine particles of sand trembled and lifted from the beach as if drawn by his breath.[/color]

[color=#808080]Then, with a gathering resonance that vibrated through the air, he ascended.[/color]

[color=#808080]In moments, the winds converged, wrapping around him in layered, powerful coils. An unseen force buoyed him upward, and a vortex of golden grains rose in a brief, swirling coronet before cascading back to earth. A gentle flash of energy, the visible manifestation of his power, glowed at his feet as he broke contact with the ground completely. His motion was seamless, a natural extension of his will, less like strenuous effort and more like a capitulation to an elemental pull. He soared, clearing the canopy of the trees in a smooth, continuous arc.[/color]

[color=#808080]The view from above transformed the area into a diorama of a typical camp. The distinct areas—the arena, the field, the cabins—blended into a pattern of darkness and muted silver under the moon's gaze. Elias remained there for a long moment, poised in that pocket of silence while enjoying the warm breeze that washed over him. [/color]

[color=#808080]Finally, he rolled onto his back, limbs relaxed, and allowed the air itself to become his foundation. He floated, weightless, skimming the underside of the lowest clouds, a body suspended between the earth’s pull and absolute release. The tempest that had been churning within him since the confrontation began, at last, to settle. The higher he climbed, the more insignificant his problems became: the din of the party, the imagined and real judgment in others' eyes, the regret for missteps he could neither justify nor take back. They would wait, unresolved, until he could find the right words. That’s what Elias decided.  So, he lingered in that state for a timeless interval, supported by the gentle push and pull of the atmosphere. Here, there was no Nate, no biting accusation, no memory of Tapeesa turning from him. There was only the immense, accepting emptiness and the crisp, thin air of the upper sky.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias replayed the words again, this time stripped of the adrenaline and the crowd's pressure. Up here, above the camp and its lights, they sounded different. Clearer. Smaller. Crueller than he’d meant.[/color]

[color=#d4af37][i]“You know, it’s pretty rich for you to say that…considering you’re the one who bailed on me and Anissa to dance by yourself.”[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]A tight grimace pulled at his mouth as the memory solidified. The exhale that followed was sharp, stirring the atmosphere around him into a visible shimmer. He heard it now, the cheap, fracturing sound of his own pride in each syllable. His intention hadn't been to inflict pain, but a reflexive need to protect his own ego had its own relentless pull, and he had tumbled into pettiness without a second thought.[/color]

[color=#d4af37][i]“Right after you’d already dressed me down like I was some kid who couldn’t be trusted to handle himself.”[/i][/color]

[color=#808080]This particular barb had sunk deeper with time. In the thick of the confrontation, it had felt like righteous indignation, a necessary pushback against a public correction. Now, suspended in this boundless dark, the statement revealed its true core: not strength, but an unflattering insecurity. It was the protest of a boy who felt belittled, not the reasoning of the man he should be. He had conflated her concern with an insult to his capability, and in doing so, he hadn't defended his maturity; he had betrayed its absence. He had taken her moment of genuine engagement and weaponized it, constructing a barrier where there could have been a bridge instead. [/color]

[color=#808080]Was it any surprise that Tapeesa’s only recourse in that moment was a quiet apology before turning away?[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias let his eyes close. [/color]

[color=#d4af37]“I don’t know, Tapeesa,”[/color][color=#808080] he murmured into the emptiness, finishing the line aloud now. [/color][color=#d4af37]“From where I’m standing, it looks to me like you’ve been doing just fine without any offers.”[/color]

[color=#808080]The bitterness in that last sentence still tasted familiar. Jealousy, maybe, but not of Nate. Of her comfort. Her lightness. The way she could make the world love her without ever trying. He’d said “offers” like it was a bad thing, like she owed something for being wanted. The irony of that wasn’t lost on him. [/color]

[color=#808080]His voice had dropped after that:  [/color][i][color=#d4af37]“…I would’ve joined you if you’d asked. You said ‘should’, not ‘want’.”[/color][/i]

[color=#808080]This, he reflected, was the one part of the entire mess that held its shape. It was the most honest confession he had managed all evening. The distinction was everything to him. “Should” was a social contract, a duty performed out of politeness or expectation. “Want” was a different force entirely. A voluntary leap. An admission of desire. Elias had no interest in being a task on a list. He longed to be the destination.[/color]

[color=#808080]He lifted a hand, pressed his fingers into the tight knot of muscle where his neck met his skull, and released a heavy, weary breath into the open air.[/color][color=#d4af37]“God, you’re insufferable when you actually feel something,” [/color][color=#808080]he grumbled. Pathetic or not, though, it was the truth. He'd come here expecting connection, maybe even a little grace, and instead he'd turned a clumsy moment into more than it had to be. He'd wanted Tapeesa to see him as a person, and all he'd managed to do was prove Nate right. [/color]

[color=#808080]He was difficult. He was a burden. A complication others had to manage. [/color]

[color=#808080]A fresh breeze washed over him, carrying the aroma of pine and the chill of the deep lake. Elias opened his eyes to the infinite expanse above. The constellations held their positions, silent and eternal. He wasn't sure what he sought in their distant fire. A sign from his father, perhaps, or some form of condemnation. Or maybe, most likely, the simple truth of his continued indifference.[/color]

[color=#808080]Then, a trail of brilliant gold and red tore through the darkness below him. [/color]

[color=#808080]It began as a solitary projectile, a single flare of light rocketing upward from the field where the others had congregated. It exploded into a shower of luminous tendrils that unfurled like a celestial flower against the black. Elias observed its duplicate bloom across the lake’s surface, a second, inverted spectacle shimmering in the water’s plane. Soon, the performance multiplied. One after another, projectiles of red and gold ascended, each one briefly setting the world ablaze with magnificent colour.[/color]

[color=#808080]He stayed still, arms folded loosely behind his head, letting the light break over him. From this height, the fireworks were silent for a moment before their sound reached him, a deep, resonant thunder that rolled within his bones. It reminded him of home, weirdly enough, of Albuquerque’s monsoon season when clouds would gather above the desert and the sky torn apart by great, shattering bolts of lightning. Those were the nights his mother had always loved most. They were untamed, electric, and alive.[/color]

[color=#808080]Marisol Trueno didn't need fireworks. Her celebrations were more personal affairs, built around a steaming pot of homemade pozole and the crackling melody of old love songs from a radio choked with static. Elias could almost conjure the scent of chilli powder hanging in the air, a ghost of his younger self perched on the kitchen tiles, watching her stir the large, bubbling pot. Her hair, as dark and thick as his own,  piled hastily upon her head, with a few rebellious strands stuck to the damp skin of her neck. A man’s voice crooning a Spanish ballad from the speakers, its sorrowful lyrics not fully grasped by a boy so young, but felt as an ache in his core nonetheless. [/color]

[color=#808080]When the clock finally struck midnight, she would always cross the room and throw the window open wide. [/color][color=#ffffff]“To greet the new year properly,”[/color][color=#808080] she would insist, her voice firm with conviction. [/color][color=#ffffff]“Let the sky see you.”[/color]

[color=#808080]Another firework detonated beneath him, a stunning scarlet that seemed to fracture the very air. The subsequent roar made Elias jolt involuntarily. Its volume was a reminder of the night he departed: his mother’s figure outlined by the light from the doorway, the cool metal of the pendant pressed into his hand. [/color][color=#ffffff]“Since the lights went out, and came back on,” [/color][color=#808080]she’d told him, a simple statement that carried a lifetime of perception as if she had always recognized the man he was destined to become long before he had any inkling himself.[/color]

[color=#808080]For a moment, the display reached its crescendo. The heavens erupted in a simultaneous volley of colour: red bled into gold, which in turn dissolved into searing white until it appeared as if the night had been cracked apart by a lightning bolt arrested in its moment of impact. The colours shimmered and danced across the thin veil of clouds below him, setting the very atmosphere alight with liquid, metallic hues. He wondered what his mother would say, seeing him now: her son, suspended between realms, too stubborn to find his footing on the ground yet too turbulent to truly ever find peace in the sky. She would offer that slight, knowing smile of hers first, he was sure, and then a soft sigh would escape her. [/color][color=#ffffff]“You can’t outfly yourself, Eli. Even the wind remembers.”[/color]

[color=#808080]The phrase landed with far more gravity now than it had in his youth. As a teenager, he’d interpreted it as a warning about consequences; his errors would forever dog his steps. But here, floating in this boundless openness, the true meaning began to crystallize. She hadn’t been talking about the world’s memory but his own. The way the air itself responded to his inner turmoil, the storms that trailed in his wake did not do so by choice but because they were an inextricable part of his being. The wind remembered because it knew his essence. It knew the fragments of himself he tried to abandon: the frustration, the arrogance, the deep, unspoken yearning for a softer, much gentler existence.[/color]

[color=#808080]And perhaps, he realized, that was the entire point of her annual ritual. [/color][color=#ffffff][i]“Let the sky see you.”[/i][/color]
[color=#808080]It was not an act of veneration but an act of courage. A willingness to be fully perceived without masks or defences.[/color]
[color=#808080]To stand before the promise of a new beginning exactly as you are: imperfect, marked by your past, and still striving to be better.[/color]

[color=#808080]He ached for the sound of that voice. It didn’t provide easy answers, but it originated from a place of unconditional recognition. She had always seen all of him, even when his own light threatened to consume everything in its path. Especially then. It struck him with a new force just how rare that kind of acceptance truly was. To be known in your entirety and cherished not despite it but because of it.[/color]

[color=#808080]He was difficult. He was a burden. But those were not immutable facts. He did not have to accept that as his permanent definition, from himself or from anyone else.[/color]

[color=#808080]A final, magnificent burst unfolded, a great, sprawling chrysanthemum of red that faded through gold into a brilliant, dissolving white. Midnight. Elias raised an open hand toward the fading light, letting the residual glow gild his skin like a blessing he hadn’t earned but still received.[/color]

[color=#d4af37]“Happy New Year, Ma,”[/color][color=#808080] he whispered, the words swallowed by the rolling thunder that followed. The sky offered no reply, save for the sizzle of spent sparks drifting down as ash. He remained until the last vestiges of light were extinguished, the final embers surrendering to the returning dark. Then, with a gathering hum that started deep in his chest, he initiated his return to the ground.[/color]

[color=#808080]The currents accepted his weight without protest this time, guiding him downward in a series of wide, languid spirals until the highest pine needles whispered against the soles of his boots. When his feet finally met the sand once more, the enclosed warmth of the lakeshore enveloped him. The show was over. Down in the field, he knew the celebration would be in full swing with well-wishes exchanged and promises made that would likely be forgotten with the morning’s light.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias knew, however, that the night wasn't done with him yet. [/color]
[hr]
[color=#808080]He stopped in front of her cabin before realizing it. The path beneath his boots was pale with moonlight, the stepping stones half-hidden by frost beginning to gather along their edges. For a moment, he thought the building was empty with its dark windows and curtains drawn, but then he saw them: his jacket and duffel, neatly placed beside the gate. Not thrown, not carelessly dropped, but arranged in that way that spoke of someone who didn’t want to cause harm but wanted distance all the same.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias remained motionless, the sight landing with a surprising force. He stared at his own possessions as if they might suddenly articulate the reason for their exile. The world had grown quiet around him; even the wind, his most constant ally, appeared to hold its breath. His first reaction was a physical one, a hollow, expanding sensation in his chest as if something he had been clenching deep within himself since their argument was finally, slowly, coming undone. His second reaction was a simple, crushing realization: [/color][i][color=#d4af37]so this is how it ends.[/color][/i][color=#808080] There was no fury accompanying the thought, only a dull recognition. The arrangement of his things communicated what her voice would not: your presence here is no longer welcome. And perhaps that was just. Perhaps it was the inevitable price for his words, for all the things he could never take back. Yet, the visual proof of his exclusion from her space cut more deeply than he would ever confess. It wasn't a dramatic scene. It was just… emptying. Numbness. [/color]

[color=#808080]Elias lowered himself into a crouch, resting his forearms on his knees. His fingers reached out, lightly tracing the fabric of the jacket’s collar. He pictured her retrieving it, handling his belongings with a care that spoke of a desire to avoid any further contact. Or perhaps, a more painful thought intruded, she had done it with a regretful finality, knowing a confrontation would be too difficult to bear. He couldn't decide which possibility was more disheartening.[/color]

[color=#808080]He let out a long, slow breath and pushed himself back to his feet. He slung the duffel’s strap over his shoulder and settled the jacket across his arm, the fabric still holding the night's chill. He allowed himself one more moment of stillness, his breath forming a pale cloud in air that was now beginning to bite at his skin. If he were to guess, the enchanted warmth that had permeated the camp was likely programmed to recede, its purpose fulfilled with the conclusion of their first official night. There was a certain poetry to it, he supposed, in how the ice crystals now caught the light, rendering the entire world fragile and transient. He wondered if that was how Tapeesa had felt standing across from him earlier—backed into a corner, feeling transparent and perilously close to coming apart.[/color]

[color=#808080]His eyes lifted to the cabin door once more. No glow seeped from beneath it, no sound came from within. The impulse to knock surfaced briefly, but it died just as fast. What could he possibly offer now? [/color][color=#808080][i]I understand?[/i][/color][color=#808080][i]I regret my words? [/i][/color][color=#808080]Every phrase felt insufficient, a belated and feeble offering. It was easy to speak, he realized; it was trust that would prove difficult to rebuild if he still wanted it. [/color]

[color=#d4af37]“Guess that’s that then,” [/color][color=#808080]he murmured, the words barely audible. Turning his back on the cabin, he adjusted the weight on his shoulder and started down the main trail. At the junction, a board was mounted, paper maps fluttering like restless ghosts against the wood. Elias peeled one corner free, his eyes scanning the grid of numbered plots for an unclaimed space. Most were marked as taken, but one, situated near the arena, bore no name. He pressed his thumb against its outlined box, mirroring the action he had watched Tapeesa perform hours before, then folded the paper and slipped it into his pocket.[/color]

[color=#808080]By the time he located the cabin matching his chosen number, the young man found his energy was too spent for expectation. He had given no thought to what might await him, which is why he now stopped short, his breath catching. The structure stood apart from its neighbours, nestled deep within a grove of pines. Its steep, angular roof cut a dramatic line against the twilight sky, and a soft, inviting glow spilled from its windows to pool on the frost-tipped grass. As he approached, the porch steps announced his arrival with a low groan. His hand rose, hovering for a heartbeat over the door handle. A sudden, irrational fear gripped him—that he would push the door open and be met only with a vast, waiting silence on the other side.[/color]

[color=#808080]But he did so regardless. [/color]

[color=#808080]As the door swung inward, the air that met him was rich with the earthy perfume of cedar and the comforting aroma of smouldering timber. The space within opened up, soaring into the peak of the A-frame ceiling. Nestled in the corner, an iron stove housed a lively fire, its flames popping as they cast a throbbing, orange glow that pushed the remnants of the night's chill to the corners of the room. Directly opposite, a leather sofa faced the fire, accompanied by a low-slung table strewn with a collection of untouched candles. A blanket of thick, creamy fur was tossed haphazardly across the sofa's arm, suggesting a casual, welcoming comfort.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias stepped inside slowly, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. He lowered his duffel to the floor, shed his jacket from his shoulder, and brought his hands together as if to restore a genuine circulation of heat into his fingers. Real heat. [/color]

[color=#808080]His gaze travelled, taking in the details of his unexpected sanctuary. And that was when his eyes found it.[/color]

[color=#808080]Positioned beside the sofa, on a simple stand, rested a guitar. [/color][i][color=#808080]His[/color][/i][color=#808080] guitar.[/color]

[color=#808080]Elias went completely still, his focus locked on the instrument as if it were a mirage that might dissolve with the slightest movement. The honey-toned wood of the body gleamed in the dance of the flames, illuminating every familiar characteristic—the tiny dent near the lower bout, the slight darkening along the neck from an evening long ago when he’d played seated too near his mother’s fireplace. His heartbeat shifted, becoming a heavy rhythm in his ears as he moved closer. There was no letter, no justification. Only the guitar, present for him as if it had never been anywhere else. He drew his thumb gently across the strings, releasing a handful of discordant tones that drifted upward into the heights of the cabin. Still, the sound seemed to expand and occupy the emptiness that had taken root inside him, offering a substance where there had been only void.[/color]

[color=#808080]It was illogical. He had consciously decided to leave it in Albuquerque, deeming it too vulnerable to bring on this uncertain journey. To encounter it here, placed so deliberately in this distant, secluded place, defied all reason. And yet, its reality was unquestionable. The solid curve of its body under his gaze, the familiar scent of lacquer and aged wood. Every detail was the same. [/color]

[color=#808080]A quiet laugh escaped him, disbelieving but warm. [/color][color=#d4af37]“No way,” [/color][color=#808080]he mumbled, the words barely forming. [/color][color=#d4af37]“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”[/color][color=#808080] He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing bit by bit. His father’s doing, then. Who else could it be? The old man had a flair for grand gestures, and a gift delivered not in words or thunder but in something far simpler made sense: recognition. He recognized him. Part of him wanted to question it. To look for the trick or the string attached. 

But Elias was too tired to fight it tonight [/color]

[color=#808080]So, he straightened, the corner of his mouth lifting. [/color][color=#d4af37]“Thanks, old man,”[/color][color=#808080] he said softly. [/color]

[color=#808080]Then, he sank onto the couch and cradled the guitar in his lap. It fit perfectly there, like it always had. He began tuning it by ear, twisting each peg until the notes rang clear and steady. Outside, the wind brushed against the windows almost like accompaniment. When he struck the first proper chord, the sound resonated through the cabin, a warm, full note that settled in his chest and lingered in the air long after his fingers stilled. [/color]

[color=#808080]And he sat there in the glow of the fire and starlight, letting the peace of it wash over him.[/color]

[/indent][/indent]
[hr]Location: Lake (in the sky)--> His cabin 
Interactions: N/A
Mentions: Tapeesa, Nate