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Over the River and Through the Woods - Seanan - 05-03-2016 The water ran. Early spring sunlight streamed through a break in the trees, the rays of light playing over the ripples in the little stream. The reflections it showed of the world were broken and distorted, where they existed at all. Tiny fish flashed silver in the current and the rocks beneath were the many colors of rich earth. Why is it so cold!? The white stallion snorted and sprang back from the water, pale rosey nostrils flaring wide. He shook his head, the frost-melt water still cool in his throat. It was only recently that he had begun to become familiar with these bodies of water. They weren't the still, sometimes cool pools that had watered him in the desert, the sand turned to mud around the edges by the hooves of many horses. Those were kind pools, pleasant respites from the desert's heat. This was different. This water moved. This water bit. This water lived. Even the air here was wet. He could feel it sticking in his throat and lungs. He was half-drowned with ever breath. And the air was cool, winter in his home but now he knew how cold winters could be. He had never known winters so cold. Winters where everything was still and dead. Only this past winter had he seen it with his own eyes. With a delicateness that was oddly appropriate despite his height, the spindly stallion stepped over the narrow stream. He took great care, swinging his long neck around in a sharp crescent to watch the exaggerated lift of each leg. Once satisfied that the danger was passed, he let his head come back around to the front, long ears swinging up to face forward at attention. He picked up an easy trot, swift and smooth. He wasn't going anywhere in particular. He didn't even know where he was. He had set himself a path though, meandering and wandering as it had been. Until something changed- until he found the seat of the gods- there was no reason to stop. No reason to slow. The game trail he followed soon broke out into a broader path and Seanan turned to follow it, swing his bony frame along. His gossamer tail flicked, just barely long enough to reach around his hip. His head was low, eyes half closed. Only his ears betrayed his alertness, at odds with the sleepy disinterest the rest of him displayed. RE: Over the River and Through the Woods - Caneo - 05-03-2016
Welcome to Helovia! :D I could not resist throwing Caneo at another teke, hope you don't mind! RE: Over the River and Through the Woods - Seanan - 05-03-2016 He know when someone steps up in the road behind him. It's prey instinct- guardian's instinct. Yet there isn't a hot scent of fur and musk and slaver so he continues on for a stride or two, feining ignorance until he slows to an awkward walk, then stops. His head swings around. Head low, ears akimble. In the dappled light his eyes were pale rose, without the hints of lavender the bright sunlight brought out. Then he sees him. A silver sliver of memory ripped from his dreams. Seanan has not seen the metallic glow on any creature since he left the lands of the desert that birthed him. His head snaps up, body performing an abrupt serpentine curve to bring him about to face this new stallion. His nostrils flare wide, hooded eyes widening to flash whites around. He is half-wild. One seashell hoof raises as if in question. Backwards or forwards? The long legged elder seems to shift back, then abruptly the hoof swings forward, one long stride that decisively changes his momentum towards the younger. His skin shivers, though from the cool air or this chance meeting is uncertain. For one moment, the stallion seems to have regained the dignity of his blood, a child of wind and sand and sun. A long moment of silence passes before the words spoke register in his long ears. "No." The words are spoken in a soft voice, somewhat high for the stallion's size. Which question he is answering. "I am not lost." The tenseness evaporates from his lean figure. His ragged gossamer tail twitches up to brush at his flank as though to harry an insect. His head tilts to the side, one ear seeming to dangle listless while the other perks towards the silver steed. Seanan sidles sideways, a drunken shift that's oddly graceful despite the awkward way he criss crosses his steps. "No, I don't think so- are there others like you about? This seems a cold place for a heat-dream." The words tumble from his throat, each one coming hard on the heels of the one before until abruptly he stops. Then the gaunt beast shakes his head at the end of his over-long neck, eyes half-closed and sleepy again, though the whites flash in the corners. RE: Over the River and Through the Woods - Caneo - 05-04-2016
@Seanan forgot to ask if you'd like to be tagged RE: Over the River and Through the Woods - Seanan - 05-04-2016 The snake catches his eyes. It is a lovely thing, what he can see of it, and for a moment his blood-tinted eyes follow it, tracking the restless serpentine weaving through the silver's mane. He let's the condescension sweep over him- he has met some others in his travels and this response is not uncommon. It is his truth- if this one will not believe it then there is nothing else for him to do. But he cannot look away. Eventually the serpent loses his interest and hungrily he returns his gaze to the supple, desert-born form. He is half tempted to believe it a fever dream. A dozen desert jewels spread 'cross the desert sands Swept up by a child's careless hand If they are unique, then is he the only other? The last fragment of memory that Seanan might cling to? Despite his wandering thoughts, his response to the other's question is immediate. His skin shivers and his body lists slightly to the side. "Uncle". The familiarity makes him uncomfortable, but it does not show. Instead his sidles a little as if thinking, maintaining the distance between them with an exactness that is almost choreographed. Is this is dream? Perhaps it has all been a dream. "To the end of the world." The answer is dreamy, voice softening to nearly a whisper. There is something different in his eyes as they narrow, and the sleepiness seems to betray something else. Something that would be more familiar in a sand cat's eyes. "I am seeking the gods' land." Am I even real? RE: Over the River and Through the Woods - Caneo - 05-06-2016
@Seanan RE: Over the River and Through the Woods - Seanan - 05-07-2016 Seanan wheels, ceding the road the the silver stallion, maintaining a distinct body's length of distance between them. He will not be crowded. Despite his height, there is bred in him a desire to be free of the touch of strangers. There is danger in closeness, in the press of bodies. There is a trap there, where another could bring their greater weight into play, snapping his fragile legs as though they belonged to nothing more than an errant spider. Even as he swings his hinds off the road and into the trees, not allowing himself to be crowded or herded, his dainty hooves so like the silver's find purchase in the soft loam, so much sturdier than oceans of sand and yet more forgiving than the diamond-like salt flats where the wind drinks the moisture from your breath. The footing is uncertain for him, but he does not try and improve his footing. He is likely to move anyways, too restless to remain in one place long. It's the addiction, the need to feel his blood rushing in his veins and his powerful heart thundering in his chest. Then he speaks of gods and the beast is still. Watching. Listening. For a moment the wind stirs the trees and a dabbled shadow crosses his face, darkening his eyes near to the color of blood. Heart's blood. He does not step back onto the road as the silver stranger passes. Instead his lowered head stays pointed at the trees across the way- but he is watching. There is no mistaking the steady regard and the pointed cock of one ear. Even his thin tail has gone still and the twitching has still in his coat. For a moment he good be a statue of abalone. "Answers and recompense." The words are quiet. There is still a strange quality to them, almost dreamy, but they lack the hectic pace of earlier. As though time itself has slowed for him. "Answers and recompense." The echo is barely a breath, hissed between near-closed teeth. And yet his body doesn't move, standing in an odd portrayal of relaxed disregard. As if the body is not quite attached to the mind. Then his head comes up and there are riddle in his eyes and on his tongue. "And how do you know that what you've seen are gods, little argent? Are they benevolent, are they kind? Are they terrible in their glory?" A soft laugh whispers from his throat, and somewhere there might be a hint of sarcasm in is half-lidded eyes as he flips his nosed up briefly towards the sky as if in delight, his short mane falling back for a moment to reveal the long gauntness of his neck. "How do you know, what is a god and what is a devil?" Now he moves, a rush of white, reclaiming the road in a quick long stride so he takes up the position the silver stallion originally held upon their meeting. And in a strange mockery his gangly form takes up a posture not unlike the younger stallion's. Head tilted, tail twisting, all life now where before he was stone. And his eyes are empty, rose tinted-mirrors. |