Meadowlark Prairie instant gratification

Weather: 48°F—moderate rain.

 

The sun was shining, and fire fell from the sky.

Somehow, someway, it did not burn him—nor did it administer any feelings. He stood on the crest of a hill overlooking the prairie, his gaze cutting against the harsh light overhead. He squinted against it, unsure what to make of it. And yet, his mannequin-like grin lingered.

Hypnos felt something bubble within him, and slowly it crept up his throat. It was warmth, light—a manifestation of the tempest overhead. It escaped him suddenly, unexpectedly; he let out a dry, booming laugh. He lowered his gaze as the light ran free, dancing on the path of his breath. It weaved through the emptiness of the plains, weaving and looping through the thirsty summer grasses. He watched the spectacle, his expression blank, feeling suddenly hollow without his light. Sure, the sky was bright, but it didn't belong to him.

Soon, the light trail vanished into the distance, and Hypnos tipped his head back again as if the last ten minutes hadn't happened.