moon river

There was always something trembling, always...
There never was a moment of stillness absolute, even if it seemed so.
Now... Now, it was a time of such lovely 'stillness'...
The ship's tired protests to the seas were relaxing, as was the gentle rocking, the swaying stride of the stars infinitely, numberlessly above.
The sails billowed... always at the highest speed this beautiful little brigantine could reach... glowing, ever trembling in the moonlight, suspended by shrouds of finely woven rope.
The wind, transformed into a resounding wanderer amidst the waves by sails, also dabbled in the trembling of lamps always kept lit above deck after dark. In a night of full moon like this, its use was reduced to the quiet meaning contained in the practice...
This golden light reflected timidly across the shimmering, waltzing surface of the ocean.

Between breaths, he caught the scent of the watchman's pipe, drifting across this indigo wind of midnight. But constantly, the wind gave him his breath, and he felt his back's pressure against the smooth, cured wood under him.

Trembling stillness...

Of stillness, he knew no other.
Of sorrow... it was the same... On these seas... sorrows only existed in another part of the world, far below the salty sprays, so far below that lonely fellow on the moon...
another part of him.
And it was from there they sprang up and sang like the last dandelions of the year-- a bright song, though so reminiscent of heartbreak it almost shattered the healing it'd done. His lips formed soundless words... "I'll find you, my dearly beloved..."
With the same tones and notes, the sails roiled like the waves of the air, and another foreign tone came...
"No," came his quiet, stillbreaking reply in turn...
The tone grew, permeating the air, beginning to make uncomfortable the sky and the stars.
The watchman eyed him through the railing, and as the sound grew, the young man leapt up from his position on the ground, protesting once more.
"No, no!" He ran towards the man with the pipe, himself shifting in position. "No, those don't exist! They can't, not anymore!"
"No, lad... no, they can't. Not here, lad."
Despite his softspoken words the sounds grew greater and greater, as did the young man's fear. Roaring, terrifying sounds, ripping, tumbling through the very being of moonlight, mocking it.
As the source grew nearer, ever so nearer, the boy's wits crackled and fell from him. "I won't go back...!" the frightened voice sank to a whisper, his eyes forming tears. "I can't... go... back...!"
"I can't help that, lad... You know we're always here-- me, the crew... the Eveningstep."
"You won't leave me? Even... even if I go...?"
"Oh no, lad... No, not even if you go, we'll be here. Always."
The sounds reached their peak, and comfort was violently torn from the young man's heart, and his hands attempted to silence his ears.
Disobediently they heard the noise, and his eyes--

Screaming, so much screaming... Flames... cool grass beneath his feet, yet burns all around him... In the air, amidst the cinders of his home and his city, his loved ones and lover...
Bright, fast things, blinking, coursing through the night, screaming, the modern steeds of fearless knights, raining death itself on all he knew...
No. No, he didn't want to come back... But back he'd come. All was gone... They were gone, and his dearly beloved... she wasn't here. No, she definitely wasn't...
But the Mate, the crew... the Eveningstep...
they were always there...