WP: Mount

Today’s prompt word is mount!¹

“If anyone has a stranglehold on that particular style of dress, it’s probably her.” The voice floated across the plaza, echoing against the chiseled stone columns of a different time. The chipped and scarred flagstones had seen much in their time, and they cared little for such trivialities as fashion; it changed so often throughout the millennia that it often appeared that the ghosts that walked upon them appeared blurred through different colors. “Who could wear straps like that? It’s scandalous, but somehow works for her.”

The low thrum of power along the wall was the immediate answer, but the voice took no notice. The whispers of blue light that signified an active connection pulsed slowly, illuminating the corners filled with the refuse and broken dreams of a thousand unknowns. The voice continued. “I’m serious! She can’t wear those colors! They’ve been reserved for the overseers since, I don’t know, forever!” A small gust of wind swirled dust into patterns on the ground; each pattern drifted through intricate geometric incantations that hinted at the existence of something more before molding themselves to the sturdy grid of stonework they flitted upon. No one noticed.

“If you don’t tell her, I will, and she won’t like that,” the voice cautioned, low and steady. It was as clearly convinced of its correctness as the doubled moons were convinced of their proper place amongst the stars; no force mounted from this world or another could sway their shared convictions. The multicolored rings reflected what light they could towards the ground, making way for the weary to know where they trod. Its counterpart, the one this civilization had named Temperance, would share its light with the brightness of the next day. Decadence, that which hung above and observed without judgement in the evening hours, brought only beauty and the looming threat of coming day as its gifts to those who sought its light.

“Fine. Whatever.” The voice was unhappy. The moon did not care.