Seiji cannot know the loneliness haunting this strange soul he now approaches. He doesn't even notice the man as he wanders across the sand, his eyes roving hungrily, his bare feet sinking with each step into the sun-warmed granules. For though the sea sings of loneliness to Kellan, to Seiji it sings only of home. Home, of course, is still a work in progress for Seiji. A patchwork of memories: sights, smells, moments in time. He recalls the cries of gulls and the crash of surf, mist on the rocks at morning. A whole swath of his history has suddenly been laid bare, like mist receding off the shoreline. And what lays beyond… What lays beyond is an island.
He does not know its name.
Only this, a certainty: he was happy there. Happy in the way a warm hearth is happy. In the way of scholars and artists, safe behind stone walls and pretty windows. But also happy in the way of wild things: racing down the beach, raising his hands to the surf… In some ways, it feels like peering into a stranger's life. The person he was no longer the same as the person he is. He cannot say if the two of them would get along.
He is glad, right now, for his solitude. Glad for the music of the sea and the softness of sand. He approaches the strange spires of the ocean cathedral with slow strides. He is in no hurry to reach it, no hurry to learn what it is. He is, after all, in the process of learning himself. Seiji is drawn to the strange music the wind makes through its spires, though. It is like nothing he has ever heard before. No rhythm, no voice, but still it sings as if in a language all its own. He circles the structure from afar, spiraling nearer and nearer still, until his eyes drift from the colorful towers to the shadow of a figure hunched within.
Praying? Hiding? Seiji cannot say, at first. Only that suddenly, he knows he's not alone. And he cannot run away — that would be rude. And he cannot pretend he hasn't seen the stranger, because he has. His only choice, then: to approach. So he does, his steps long and soft, his head tilted, trying to peer in at the stranger's features. To divine what one does in such a small building. Does the stranger live here? Seiji would like that, if it were true. He would like to know more about the beach, the shore, the spreading sea. Do they take boats out there? Do they know of other beaches far across the waves? Or is it a mystery? Impenetrable?
"Hello?" he calls gently, and pauses just outside the little cathedral, almost crouching, his unkempt hair falling over his brows as he peers in. The stranger's reaction will guide the conversation any further.
He does not know its name.
Only this, a certainty: he was happy there. Happy in the way a warm hearth is happy. In the way of scholars and artists, safe behind stone walls and pretty windows. But also happy in the way of wild things: racing down the beach, raising his hands to the surf… In some ways, it feels like peering into a stranger's life. The person he was no longer the same as the person he is. He cannot say if the two of them would get along.
He is glad, right now, for his solitude. Glad for the music of the sea and the softness of sand. He approaches the strange spires of the ocean cathedral with slow strides. He is in no hurry to reach it, no hurry to learn what it is. He is, after all, in the process of learning himself. Seiji is drawn to the strange music the wind makes through its spires, though. It is like nothing he has ever heard before. No rhythm, no voice, but still it sings as if in a language all its own. He circles the structure from afar, spiraling nearer and nearer still, until his eyes drift from the colorful towers to the shadow of a figure hunched within.
Praying? Hiding? Seiji cannot say, at first. Only that suddenly, he knows he's not alone. And he cannot run away — that would be rude. And he cannot pretend he hasn't seen the stranger, because he has. His only choice, then: to approach. So he does, his steps long and soft, his head tilted, trying to peer in at the stranger's features. To divine what one does in such a small building. Does the stranger live here? Seiji would like that, if it were true. He would like to know more about the beach, the shore, the spreading sea. Do they take boats out there? Do they know of other beaches far across the waves? Or is it a mystery? Impenetrable?
"Hello?" he calls gently, and pauses just outside the little cathedral, almost crouching, his unkempt hair falling over his brows as he peers in. The stranger's reaction will guide the conversation any further.
