#spring festitales ‘24

[osovereign]

♚ ╼ ⟨ @altosk ⟩ | spring festitales

for naught was it was, this village of festivals, spring rise. it was a place so foreign, so whimsical as a fairyland brimmed with ethereal panoramas, beryl lagoons, sequoia forests constellated into flower blooming labyrinths. where reeds sway lazily along rustically booth stalls clustered amongst makeshift settlements spatter sporadically throughout fields of celadon. circumjacent to kratos was a mind inundated from such a world transcending and hellish lamentation. aeons bygone and present times held steadfast onto his subconscious alluring observance binding the angelic god-king into a habit appearing chains of repetition. a trauma so hollowed mayhap the despondency began within his adolescence, genesis from knighthood, or a thousand raging embers of the great kharlan war, when he learned that not all could be saved.

alternatively kratos could sway that his beloved had both been his divine rebirth and his niflheim revelation. mayhap it was something else, conceivably it could be as an ill fated brew that was steeped deep within his maw. nonetheless, it was an incessant endeavor that was all too newfangled, too memorable in his psyche. kratos was and would always be full of these regrets. today was just another year on the same day. but instead of standing at her grave to weep, he was kissing the gravitating petals of spring, landing beneath ancient feet.

ambiences of flora and fauna provided glimpses of reprise. this place he did not know from any manner of region, creed, nor nation was of sub consequence. the obstructed snow-smothered mountains that stretched above cumulus, cascading waterfalls like a gaping goliath’s gullet. ❛ here for the festivities or adrift such as i? ❜ the man he approached was aged yet still young compared to he, as green as malachite, but then, who wasn’t a mere budding neonate when juxtaposed to he, living whispered mythos?