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07-05-2012, 02:37 PM
The atmosphere boils above our heads, threatening with humidity and disgust, angry gods of sky battling with clouds and electricity. The threat of a storm heightens my anxiety, pressing against my brain the staunch desire to rescue the older mare from the harsh embrace of whatever she was fleeing. The younger one seemed far more sure in himself, defensive pride radiating from him; I frowned at him, before my attention was redirected to the mare. Her soft words were gently cryptic, yet looking at her I sensed no guile. Was she simple, perhaps? Her eyes did not look simple. Perhaps she was just old, old in a way more worn than I. Eyes remained trained on her, gentle and compassionate. I can relate to that desire for rest, for peace.
A segment of my mind wondered at this sudden protectiveness for a mare I did not know. That the stallion was there presented less of a problem to me; he remained stoic as his mother spoke, and for the time being I decided to let him maintain his silence. "Many travel here," I acknowledged kindly. Even I had come to this place after ventures longer and further than perhaps any could imagine. Everyone came here, from lands unknown or from Isilme, a name oft whispered that Mirage spoke of with fondness. That this pair had journeyed so far was to be expected, appreciated.
Attention returned to the stallion, eyes sweeping across his form in assessment and sudden appreciation. How far had he journeyed, sickly mother in tow, trying to find some place of shelter? Had he tried to save her, or was he subjecting her to aimless traveling? Sharp eyes took in face and stance; strong, unapologetic. Somehow, caring. If family truly was what drove the chocolate stud on his journey, in his actions, perhaps he and I could understand each other.
He spoke, offering names, of both he and his mother. In the fairness of knowledge for knowledge, it would be for me to return with my own, and one more. "This is Helovia." The name of a land, of the place they had found. "And I am Rishima, of the Qian." I onyx tiara dipped in greeting, dark eyes taking in and storing away the affection shared. Two names; we were even. Yet the world did not revolve around fairness and trade; it was simply my own small desire to maintain the balance of knowledge. Besides, here I still stood at an advantage, however, for I knew this place in ways the travelers did not.
A breath was taken, then expunged, chords forming air into words. "I am not of a herdland, but a wanderer; however, you are welcome to join us, for we are as close as any herd. If you seek a true homeland, I can take you to one; for now, though, I would lead you to some shelter. The storm is close at hand, and you expressed a desire for rest, Namid." The statement was addressed to the stallion as much as the mare, for he seemed more the capable of the two. Where I would take them, I new not, although Thistle Meadow presented a possibility.
A segment of my mind wondered at this sudden protectiveness for a mare I did not know. That the stallion was there presented less of a problem to me; he remained stoic as his mother spoke, and for the time being I decided to let him maintain his silence. "Many travel here," I acknowledged kindly. Even I had come to this place after ventures longer and further than perhaps any could imagine. Everyone came here, from lands unknown or from Isilme, a name oft whispered that Mirage spoke of with fondness. That this pair had journeyed so far was to be expected, appreciated.
Attention returned to the stallion, eyes sweeping across his form in assessment and sudden appreciation. How far had he journeyed, sickly mother in tow, trying to find some place of shelter? Had he tried to save her, or was he subjecting her to aimless traveling? Sharp eyes took in face and stance; strong, unapologetic. Somehow, caring. If family truly was what drove the chocolate stud on his journey, in his actions, perhaps he and I could understand each other.
He spoke, offering names, of both he and his mother. In the fairness of knowledge for knowledge, it would be for me to return with my own, and one more. "This is Helovia." The name of a land, of the place they had found. "And I am Rishima, of the Qian." I onyx tiara dipped in greeting, dark eyes taking in and storing away the affection shared. Two names; we were even. Yet the world did not revolve around fairness and trade; it was simply my own small desire to maintain the balance of knowledge. Besides, here I still stood at an advantage, however, for I knew this place in ways the travelers did not.
A breath was taken, then expunged, chords forming air into words. "I am not of a herdland, but a wanderer; however, you are welcome to join us, for we are as close as any herd. If you seek a true homeland, I can take you to one; for now, though, I would lead you to some shelter. The storm is close at hand, and you expressed a desire for rest, Namid." The statement was addressed to the stallion as much as the mare, for he seemed more the capable of the two. Where I would take them, I new not, although Thistle Meadow presented a possibility.
