POWERS OF HEAVEN •• meteors/tremors

[gael]

[align=center]

♛ GAEL Ó BROIN

When nights turned rough or provided no rest, the vulpine sometimes turned to the sky.  The black canvas stretched as far as the eye could see; littered with lights he knew would flicker out one day.  Regardless, the stars lived for many years and created a painting he could appreciate, though one he rarely recreated.

Once, he painted the stars falling for Salomé -- following a night spent watching a meteor shower.  He had painted her onto that canvas too, orange fur lit on fire as she sat bathed in the starlight.  He thought once, about recreating the painting but as he stared at the blank canvases in his room, Gael decided some beautiful things were okay to leave to memory.

Unable to entirely drift to sleep, the Vicar felt his ears twitch -- he thought he heard the door creak open.

After a moment of listening past, the faerie rose to his paws, brows furrowing.  Stepping onto the front of their treehouse, Gael caught sight of the crowd growing in the marketplace.  Ah.  If Aine or Trygve had gone outside, they must be below, among the others.  For what?

For some reason, Gael felt uneasy, even as he turned his gaze towards the sky -- the unusual object of mass attention.  As lights trickled and flashed across, falling beyond the horizon, it was simple to discern why.  His daughter, he decided, must love this -- despite his age, the sight remained fairly rare.  However, his fur still pricked.

Until one light burned brighter and closer than all the rest.  Meteor.  As it sailed over the desert, Gael knew it would impact somewhere, moving quickly down the stairs, even as his ears pinned at the sound of collision.

Kydobi's call reached him but the vulpine failed to beeline -- instead he attempted to direct traffic as the ground shook, pushing the more panicked in the right direction, looking for Aine the entire time.  She could barely trot up and down the stairs; how could she out pace the trembling earth?

She's not here -- not in the Marketplace.  Warily, hazel eyes locked onto the jungle, fixing on the path towards Aine's garden.  Without hesitation, the faerie took off, conscious of the trees around him, and around the garden.

"ISN'T IT LOVELY?" —-- gael ó broin / faerie / vicar / lamby