It is said that when Tenere cries her tears become infused with deep scarlet solidifying into dried cherries before they hit the ground. Patches of dried cherries being referred to as 'Tenere tears' gathered for new light festivals. The bamboo chair cradled her lithe frame knowingly. Warm hashish poured from her mouth inhaled from the hookah entwined with the frame of her chair. From her vantage point she could hardly see Is'slom playing in the high grass talking to things he shouldn't have been talking to no doubt. Semi images and mythic things. They were safe here yet she wondered if he would learn that it was different in the outside realms.
Jhlen drew her into the world of men yet it was her own Fall that kept her there. She longed for people to remember her as N'djamena again. Here was sanctuary yet she knew that Is'slom was destined to walk the world of men on his own. The child messiah, saoshyant predicted amongst the cities of the Uclavian Ridge.
The hashish rinsed her body rolling through her nerves and muscles. Is'slom, son of a poet warrior, son of a goddess. Indigo prince who took the sick chaos of life and distilled it into pure sunlight. Tenere knew his father would be coming soon. Ever since she spirited them both away under the guise of night shattering his heart. She knew that he had to come looking for them. Deep down she wanted him to.
*******
Is'slom walked through the grass field with his pet baku that his father had gave him following his every step. The grass was tall, reaching the height of his neck. From a distance he looked like a disembodied head floating. In his hand he carried a crystal orb filled with butterflies. His mother asked where he got it from only to receive no clear answer. Is'slom knew it wasn't time to tell her.
The grass moved.
Okay. The grass was already slightly moving in the wind yet the grass ahead of him seemed to sway with an internal purpose. Then it parted. Then the head of a beast with a head of a dragon yet horns of a deer peeked through.
Is'slom, with no fear, walked forward and petted it on the head. Is'slom knew that the Qilim was his third companion. Soon he would have to leave for the world of man. The Qilim talked to him in words of wind and rain. Though the words were heavy Is'slom caused it to chuckle a few times. Is'slom already knew his duty as a bringer of benefit and as a joybringer. His father was the Daybreaker and he was the Daybringer.
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