Blackwater Islands moondust

the air was warm as night descended; as close to warm as the blackwater islands would ever get. crickets chirped endlessly, their calls reaching past the thrum of the waterfall as a thin, constant murmur. the listener woke to find herself with only a pair of children. the third, the darkest and most silent of the siblings, was gone. his trail was fresh.

unperturbed, the prophet followed @Ptolemy's trail to the mouth of the den, where the waterfall's spray lent the air a slight chill.

message me if the powerplay isn't okay <33

spring brought about warmer temperatures that had him feeling more attached to this earth with every passing day.

he was not far from the den.  there was no need to be.  all that he required was right above them.  with recent exploration, he found that a little further out there was a much better view.  he took in the waterfall with interest but great caution, briefly became distracted by a cricket that landed nearby, and then drew his head up to admire the stars.

he loved them.  as much as a child could.  one day his concept of 'love' might mature, and the all-encompassing feeling that captured him be bound to childhood, reachable only through nostalgia.

but for now, this is what he knew.  as much as he was bound to the earth he was bound to the stars, and they were a beautiful sight to behold.  without pollution to block out the light and weather conditions that were remarkably in favor, they looked close enough to touch.

it was the listener's presence that brought him back to earth.  he nodded towards her and exhaled as invitation, then gestured back towards the universe with a curious twinkle in his eye.

her third child had found his heart among the heavens. pensive and watchful, the listener settled at ptolemy's side. she wondered what the stars whispered to his budding soul.

the stars, she told her son softly, gaze flicking meaningfully from him to the sky. they reflect the light of our souls, to guide us through each night until the sun returns. your light shines there as well.

the light above was called stars. stars were us which meant he was stars. though the listener had likely meant it metaphorically, the boy took it as fact. he had once experienced it. though that would be one of the few things in life that escaped his memory it had left an impression on him that was indelible. and now he had language for it, so long as he could hold onto the words.

he regarded her intently until the explanation was finished, then cast his eyes the ground, appearing almost pensive (though he was truly thinking about very little). after a moment he let out a yawn.

it was past his bedtime, and he would not be awake for much longer, but he wanted to push his limits so that he might learn just a little bit more. 

he looked back towards the listener and tilted his head.

ptolemy seemed to contemplate her words. each of the blessed trio had inherited something of their mother; in ptolemy, the gift of reflection had made itself known early. the listener found herself spending each day in anticipation of the gifts her children would next reveal.

our spirits remain there until we pass to the otherworld, the prophet took every opportunity to educate her children in the ways of the universe. they reside in the sea, then. all around us. they are the souls of the dead, and they remain within our realm so that they might guide us.