kundush and ararat - vesper meeting

Introduced in The Beginning.

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That evening the heavens did wail. Her downpour was forceful and persevering, like a flood that threatened to engulf the whole of Elysium Fields. The raindrops trickled its turquoise blanket across the lush fabric of the fields, cold and comforting, silently heaving in the blowing winds enveloping all in a sodden solace undeniably foreboding. In their mattress of turf Ararat’s embrace felt the most comforting to Kundush. Pulling Ararat closer, he could almost taste the ethereal scent of his breath cascading behind his shivering neck. Sending waves of caresses that still his heaving heart.

The mist edges its glacial claws tugging between their entwined bodies. Exquisite memories restored before his tightly closed eyes. Of that vesper night almost twelve annums ago when the very same heavens wailed beyond his comprehension. The solices where all too bright in that darkness, each in a symphony of its own, casting vivid beacons amidst the pitch black expanse. A vacuum filled with the opus of the heavens oscillating in a rhythm that mesmerizes.

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He lost track of time, and the circadian cycles willfully ignored to remain in the path that his weary limbs needed to draw. He was cold, and painfully so. After almost three fortnights of torrential rains that surprised the elders. All those nights he was trapped in the Illuminatia, in a desperate attempt to salvage the manuscripts he had gingerly crafted as arch-scribe of the Elysia Seta. Yet he persevered, despite a hunger that threatens to cannibalize him, a sublimating hope that focuses dread, and a fleeting energy that he continually chased.

He was weak, famished and frigidly exhausted, and the split second that proceeded when he tripped on the cobbled pavement felt like a millennia in slow motion. The few scrolls he was able to reclaim from heaven’s tears tossed in midair and beyond his reach. They fell a few feet away on the puddle across the pavement, soiled and spoilt. Their poetic verses and florid illustrations dissolved in the morning dew and diluted by the pouring rain. Gone.

His legs finally gave and crumbled on the muddy bricks. Tears started flowing mixing with his saltine sweat and dripping with the pouring rain. He could taste the defeat in his lips as he clutched the disintegrating pages. Fumbling to remember what images were inscribed moments ago. Without realizing, his eyes began to swell and the sobs became wails. Calling to the heavens for a verdict undeserved.

He was unaware of a shadow approaching. An agile phantom.

“Are you ok?,” the man asked.
“I wish I was,” Kundush said.
“Why don’t you come inside and get dry. It’s freezing out here.” was the welcomed gesture.
“I can’t. I have to retrieve my scrolls.”

Without a pause, the man dove into the puddle, gracefully picking up the scrolls and fragments from the mud that was slowly thickening. Kundush stared, unable to comprehend the generosity and kindness this delightful man gave so willingly. The man was now covered in mud and sweat, yet his face remained as calm as the afternoon three fortnights ago prior to this deluge. With no hesitation, he proceeded to collect every last fragment lost in the drifting waves. When all was retrieved, he took the bunch of scrolls and manuscript fragments, wrapped them in the gauze that was tucked earlier in his rear pocket, and placed it carefully under his robes.

He held out his hand to Kundush.

Once standing, he took him in and wrapped his robes around both of them. Warm and cozy. Surreal yet utterly real. He held him between his shoulders to temper the delirious chills Kundush was now having.

“Now, can we come inside? I made fresh, hot gluchan.” he queried.
"Yes." was Kundush's muffled affirmation.
"Name's Ararat."
"Kundush."

Unconsciously Kundush reached inside the robes, and took Ararat’s arms to pull him closer. His warmth was relaxing, sending his frustrations and grief of the past three fortnights into oblivion. Therapeutic and timely. As he was led to the threshold of the house, Ararat started to hum a melody Kundush have heard before in the carallian annuals. A delicate smile slowly emerged from Kundush’ frail and tired lips. And it stayed there throughout the night.