kundush and ararat - the beginning

It was the coldest of nights. The Elysian Fields howled in the crisp, frigid arctic course that trailed its meandering waters. The time of The Transcendence was again close at hand, and as the fortnight cycle comes to its quad-centennial close, the denizens of the Elysium anticipated the coming of another deluge. That evening Kundush could not help but lay motionless and sleepless in his meadow mattress. The anxiety in his heart is brewing like the mist that threatens to engulf his very existence. “Should I bestow my minstril to Ararat?” He queried.

The Law of Ethos prescribes that bestowing one’s minstril must be done only in the most auspicious and opportune of times, preferably in that brief quanta-cycle preceding the Time of Transcendance. It is also encapsulated in the manuscripts that bestowing must only be done to whom the bestower promises eternity with. It is the contract of empathy, one that cannot be taken back once actualized. Absolute and eternal, Kundush knew that if he does chooses to bestow to someone who refuses, his minstril will be lost to the mists and he must face an eternity with the barren subsistence of a minstrel-less life. It is an existence beyond the less painful possibility of extinction.

Slowly his hand reached out, brushing against the warm skin of Ararat that lay beside him. He could not help but attempt to feel the skin he has so lovingly and longingly cared for. He knew that their time together was only as brief and passing as the tides of the Gangish. With the marigold fading with each passing day, he only had a few fortnights left to collect the edelweiss dew he needs to complete his bestowing. But he doesn’t digress; he knows in his very soul that these are merely trivial details to the more pressing decision of bestowing his minstril to Ararat. Each day Ararat’s skin becomes a duller shade of cerulean, and he knows that without the bestowing he plans, Ararat will wither into the ether, the agonizing conclusion that happens when one loses his minstril to someone who turns it down. And if Ararat does refuse his bestowing, the condition of Ararat now is a precursor to the turmoil he would have to endure for eternity.

Kundush is special. In every generation only a handful are given the divine capacity of eternal existence. This immortality usually being the advantage that elysiens use to amass wealth, power and control over those that weren’t as lucky. But he chose the un-treaded path of a life of seclusion in the arts. The creative spirit in him was too strong to ignore. It was a calling that went beyond vocation or religion, belief or necessity. He was decided to immerse his life in the intangibles of scholarly pursuits. He used to be perfectly fine with spending his days in the bosom of the books and illuminates he has dreamt of as a young elysien.

That was before he met Ararat.

“Do you ever miss Wuyue?,” Kundush asked.
“Sometimes, when the wind is silent I can almost hear her minstril.” Ararat said.
“Did you ever wish you kept your minstril?”
“Not really. I knew I had to bestow it to her. Whether or not she accepts. I was so sure then. But fate had other plans apparently. That’s why I’m here. With you.”

Ararat smiled. A smile sweeter than any gluchan that has passed Kundush’ lips. And he knew then and there that the choice has been made. He took Ararat’s arms and wrapped it around his waist, in an embrace that will keep them warm until the morning dews have dried. Soflty Ararat sighed in his sleep. Kundush kept himself awake. Humming in his mind, making sure that his minstril’s harmony was strong enough to weather the coming days.