It takes Ombra one night to dream of the Sun and many nights afterward to realize its impossibility. It could be beautiful, he thinks, to watch her dance across the sky, easy tiptoes over clouds of white. She might pirouette, too, a hop and a skip and a curtsy at the end.
He would clap for Her, but that’s beside the point.
The point is that there are opportunities for the citizens of Umbra that do not fall upon him. There are blessings given to those higher up, chances to see what he can only catch glimpses of.
Silhou, a Longray, passes through the gates just as Ombra is summoned.
“Silhou.” Ombra looks up, feels a twinge of jealousy surge through him at the idea that he was just coming back from watching the sunrise. “How was She today?”
Silhou gestures disinterestedly. “The same as She is every day, Ombra. You know that.”
I don’t know that, Ombra wants to say. I don’t know that because I can’t see Her like you can.
“I know,” is what comes out instead. He pushes the gates open and slinks through, waving back at Silhou. Silhou, who is too quiet and too calm and welcomes the birth of new days. Silhou, who talks too little and sees too much.
In the Shadowcaster world, Ombra follows and follows and follows, looming obediently in the teasing light of the Sun.
Just had the urge to write. Let me know if this should be continued!
Also, "Silhou" is pronounced like the first part of the word "silhouette," in case anybody was wondering. <3