To the untrained eye, the sky would have looked overcast. But to the eyes that currently gazed at it, one crimson and one a royal blue, the illusion was only part of the natural world. Here the flow of energy was so pure, untouched by time, that it created a soft, blue atmosphere all around. Inhaling, the energy filled the feral's lungs, flowing through his body, before leaving on a long exhale. It was refreshing here.
His eyes lowered from the sky to stare out at the palace to the north. It was a nice place. Not overly complicated like other cities he had seen, but strong, yet humble to the cycles of the sun and moons. However, it was not really to his personal liking. Things were complicated there, despite the number of friendly faces, and good intentions. Everything just seemed to get mixed up with the various entities that resided there. So every day he would come here to this spot and relish in the sanctity of seclusion. At least until his other half came to meet him. And speaking of whom, he spotted a white figure emerge from the darkness of the palace interior and pause. Clearly they were stopping to adjust to the light outside.
Seeing that his time alone would last only a short while longer, he took the time to study the landscape for the billionth time. To the northwest, the palace which had been carved from the very mountain it sat on, extended out over a cliff which looked like it had collapsed at one point. But there was no fallen rock below where the vast lake lay. The towers, buttresses, and walkways by every natural law should have broken of ages ago and plummeted into the glassy surface of the lake. But here they stood, resistant to the laws of time and physics.
As his gaze continued west, the lake's edges met the base of a forest, and beyond that, another mountain range. From up high, where he was, he could see the great waterfall several miles off, its white, foaming waters plunging to the river below cliffs. A frown spread across his face as unpleasant memories began to surface. The rushing river, as loud as it was when in close proximity, always slowed to a gentle, almost inaudible trickle by the time it reached the mouth of the lake. He had once been told, if ever he should find himself in a moment of mental turmoil, to visualize that waterfall and see how its water gradually slowed until it was completely calm. And just like that, the bad memories vanished from his consciousness. Of course it still didn't explain how the lake never seemed to fill up, but he had learned centuries ago, not to worry about it. Here, this entire place seemed to be a metaphor.
Turning his head slightly to the southwest, he could see where the forest merged with the mountains, creating a landscape of natural earthy colors. If he squinted, he could see small pockets of valleys where wildflowers and other exotic plant life flourished with their radiant hues contrasting with the trees surrounding them. Closing his eyes, he could see them in his mind, and felt the gentle breeze that would be caressing them as it passed.
As he inhaled through his mouth he tasted a hint of salt against his tongue. Behind him, to the south, on the other side of the rocky cliffs was the ocean. To call it vast would have been an understatement. Never before had he seen a body of water extend in almost every direction. Even from his perch he could hear the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the rocks and what few small beaches of white sand there were. The sands were as soft as moss and, though he would never admit it, he loved to dig his feet into it, and wiggles his toes around. It was therapeutic after a long day and the texture soothed him immensely.
As he fantasized about doing such childish acts, he could see himself walking up the smallest beach towards a worn path along the southeast side of the sea. The rock was black, like onyx, and rather rough for his liking. Several times he had been walking up from the beach, and had scraped his soft skin against the rough edges of stone that rose up on both sides of the path. From there, the path would lead into a dark tunnel which, he had traversed with only the current of the wind blowing through it to guide him. In here, scraping himself against the wall was even more common due to the lack of light. However, when it finally opened up, the sight before him would be one to throw anyone through a mental loop.
Upon exiting the tunnel, due west of his position, the viewer would be greeted by the sight of rocks floating in the air, suspended in time. Some of these were fragments broken from the palace, others were chunks of rock from the onyx cliffs, and some were even from the mountains beyond the lake. The one he resided on now, however, was special. Not because it was any more glamorous, larger, or decorated in comparison to the others. In fact, it was rather plain; only two wingspans wide, by four wingspans long. It had a slight slope, and a single tree rooted firmly to its surface. The tree itself was rather small, but it was strong and supported his weight when he rested on the overhanging branches as he did now. The leaves overhead did an adequate job of shielding his eyes from direct light when napping as he was prone to do quite often.
The flutter of wings reached his ears and he opened his eyes to see Her land on the far edge of their rock. She had taken the time to walk the path from the palace which led to the north east until she had reached the mouth of the tunnel leading to the beach. From there, it was only a few hundred yards to reach their floating sanctuary; only a few wingbeats and a short glide away.
Her eyes smile more than her lips, but he can understand the words behind them. How is your day? She settles down beneath him and his overhanging branch. His own smile is small, but it speaks volumes more to her.
Peaceful.
