the trivial sublime

[Ezekiel de le Poer]

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Ezekiel felt the muscles along his back tighten, causing the fur to bristle under the quiver. The old man seemed to think it was fate that drew him here. A man raised to take such claims with both faith and skepticism, the Aquila was torn. If this was a charlatan or a false prophet, what good would his purpose be here? Amber eyes trailed to the old man, and then back to the peculiarly colored woman. Why did she look so familiar?

A breath escaped him and Ezekiel motioned for her to sit. “I’m sorry I ran into you,” he apologized, and joined her before the man. His red hands ran over his thighs, smoothing the fur, and the Aquila sat fluidly at the older woman’s side. “My name is Ezekiel,” he offered, and looked back to the older man. He was shuffling through a deck of cards, fingers moving and turning them with frantic ease. It was a hypnotizing thing to watch and the Aquila found himself drawn into such a thing.

He rose his ears, puzzled, and looked to the woman. Perhaps she knew what was going on with this whole display, as Ezekiel had literally stumbled into the soothsayer’s tent.

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