The Academy: THE WORLD IS NOT ENOUGH {INDIO}

OH BEAR MY LOVING HEART TO HIM
WHO BLED AND DIED FOR ME
WHOSE BLOOD NOW CLEANSES FROM ALL SINS
AND GIVES ME VICTORY

Simon was delighted in his new findings – he had ventured far over the Fifth Element, but had never changed upon such a wonderful place. Simon was instinctively drawn to it, shuffling towards the quiet halls and magnificent ruins with trepidation and exhilarating excitement. Because he now knew a new chapter of his life was unfolding; in this strange, Babylonic place.

It was now more than ever that Simon knew his true nature; it rested here in the bosom of knowledge. He had doubted it, when Notte’s (although hidden) disappointment stung him bitterly he had doubted it, but now in the moment of revelation, her disapproval faded into oblivion, meaning nothing to the russet colt.

He carried softly with him an exotic and strange thing from the sea. He had wrestled it from the depths with care, and it had stayed close to him. It was with pride that he brought it forth to this wondrous place, this strange and divine artifact from the deep. It was a broad shell, no bigger than the span of Simon’s eye, small in comparison to those found along the shoreline unbroken by the wave’s ferocity. It was the fierce and undying color of a thousand burning suns, lined proudly with deep russet. Its broad palm markings were tinted with glinting orange, and its underside was a soft and soothing taupe. To Simon it was a treasure, a rare commodity he imparted to the one who would teach, no, enlighten him of the marvels of the world he walked upon.

He came upon a stallion far sager than himself, and it was with admiration that he slowly approached him, his wind clutching the shell close to his chest, where his pulsating heart lay beating in anticipation. When the stallion looked up, Simon stepped forwards, careful not to invade any sense of privacy Indio may have had. “Hi..” He was breathless, his dark eyes questioning. “I’m Simon.” His wind stirred gently at the introduction, playing with his mane.

“This is yours.” He said abashedly, adverting his eyes. His wind swelled around him, the shell carried loftily to the stallion. “I brought it for my teacher. Will that be you?”

S I M O N
MY TRIUMPH HAS BEGUN
THE ALTAIR x THE IMPETUS || AIR III