Граф Орлов
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"Unrestrained fun. The devil take all these traditions. Thank goodness I wasn't dragged to the festival. What nonsense: these meaningless movements, proudly called dances, and these barbaric bonfires. Why, why all this?"
Absorbed in such thoughts, Marei sat opposite the fire, hunched over and with his arms crossed, either burdened by the weight of his thoughts or simply shivering from the evening chill. The flames danced before him, and the sorcerer felt that time was like a fire, in which the bonfire of his life was burning. Starting as a small spark in childhood, it flares up with the bright heat of youth, gives a stable, even warmth in maturity, smolders as an unnecessary ember in old age, and when death comes, only ashes will remain, which the earth will devour. Day after day, his life burns away. Only one thing remains – not to burn in vain, not to waste the fiery energy of his youth. The bonfire of his life must flare up into a great fire, burning cities and illuminating the whole world with light, and not burn out among people he doesn't need, not dissipate in trifles.
"I should have studied elemental magic. Maybe someday..."
Marei raised his eyes to the sky – and found no stars. Well, he will light his own. The sorcerer unclenched his fist, and several fireflies soared upwards, dancing their mad dances on the dark blue velvet of the evening sky. Marei sighed contentedly. There is a charm in this evening, and perhaps even in all these people and ritual bonfires – if only because something like this happens only once. It will be remembered, then it will be overgrown with colors, emotions that never existed, and it will be remembered with that warm longing that is hardly even conceivable in the present.
Absorbed in such thoughts, Marei sat opposite the fire, hunched over and with his arms crossed, either burdened by the weight of his thoughts or simply shivering from the evening chill. The flames danced before him, and the sorcerer felt that time was like a fire, in which the bonfire of his life was burning. Starting as a small spark in childhood, it flares up with the bright heat of youth, gives a stable, even warmth in maturity, smolders as an unnecessary ember in old age, and when death comes, only ashes will remain, which the earth will devour. Day after day, his life burns away. Only one thing remains – not to burn in vain, not to waste the fiery energy of his youth. The bonfire of his life must flare up into a great fire, burning cities and illuminating the whole world with light, and not burn out among people he doesn't need, not dissipate in trifles.
"I should have studied elemental magic. Maybe someday..."
Marei raised his eyes to the sky – and found no stars. Well, he will light his own. The sorcerer unclenched his fist, and several fireflies soared upwards, dancing their mad dances on the dark blue velvet of the evening sky. Marei sighed contentedly. There is a charm in this evening, and perhaps even in all these people and ritual bonfires – if only because something like this happens only once. It will be remembered, then it will be overgrown with colors, emotions that never existed, and it will be remembered with that warm longing that is hardly even conceivable in the present.
E si sui vius, er mi grans benananza,
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers
e si ieu muoir, er mi grans deliuriers