Shuler was by no means squeamish. Though he made sure to steer clear of the thick of any battles, blood and gore, death and dying, were not things that he feared or shied from. Though his knowledge might not span the same number of years as those with more experience, he had seen plenty of things that concerned all walks of life in his short time on this earth. He most certainly knew enough to recognize that nature and the inevitable were often unavoidable things, and at one point or another, they would all succumb back to the dirt and dust from which they came. But until that time, Shuler would enjoy life and the living and the small moments of satisfaction his cunning and wit gave him. And if given the opportunity, he would help those in need if he must. He took a deep breath, the cool, damp Basin air coating his lungs in a way that invigorated the body and gave spark to the mind. He remained stationary, not too far from the old unicorn who had finally realized he was there.
“Greetings Shuler. Long days and pleasant nights.”
The dun stallion watched with pleasant surprise at the stallion’s welcoming bow. Shuler wanted to tell him it was not necessary to display such respectful motions of humility, especially to him; a mere humble servant to the Lady Psyche and her Plague. As the stallion spoke yet a second time, sharing his name, Shuler gazed intently into the milky depths of his unseeing eyes. Eyes that were not entirely focused on Shuler for their inability to perceive the world around them, something that made the dun unicorn wonder briefly at what that must be like, to be shrouded in darkness completely with no reprieve or way to draw in the light. Part of Shuler felt a sense of fascination at the idea, for his love of the night and the shadows that accompanied it were not such a different world from blindness. But then again, his eyes were one of his greatest tools. His cunning, conniving and craftiness stemmed from what he saw, what his eyes helped him to remember. To lose that ability would be a price Shuler was not willing to pay, for it would render him useless, and uselessness was something he avoided at all costs.
“Myriddin.” Shuler repeated the name with smooth warmth, testing it, and even dropping himself into his own swooping bow, barbed black horn brushing the frost Basin ground. Regardless of whether or not the old unicorn could see the motion, it was the principle that mattered. Age did not touch the inflections of his voice or the movement of his body. Indeed, Shuler and Myriddin stood across from each other like the comparison of two parallel opposites, the young and the old, the only difference lacking being their affinity and appreciation for knowledge. “A pleasure to meet you.”
"Tell me youngling, is this where the Frost King has hidden himself? For we have unfinished business, he and I."
Shuler knew instantly who Myriddin spoke of. Mauja the Frostheart, the unicorn king that had originally told Shuler of Psyche and the Plague, and their plans to bring the unicorns back to their throne of power. Shuler mulled over the old unicorns inquire only briefly, for he himself only knew what he had heard of Mauja’s untimely disappearance. He moved a little closer to the timeworn stallion so not to have to project so loudly to be heard, allowing his hooves to shuffle and shift loudly against the frost crusted ground, a soft whoosh of air released from his lungs, so that Myrridin could place his location without too much trouble.
“Rumor is that he vanished into thin air.” Shuler replied, “And I do not jest. In fact I did not believe it myself, but I have heard from more than one person that time itself came and swallowed him whole, gone in one blink.”
Shuler was always wary of the impractical and the mysterious; Mauja’s peculiar disappearance was no different. While the dun stallion wasn’t entirely certain of what happened, he had heard enough muttering amongst those of the Basin to know that it wasn’t simply a misconstrued story. Just as the God of the Spark had stood before their very eyes and vanished in his chaos of smoke and lighting, Shuler supposed Mauja too could have left this world for another in just as similar a manner. These things were beyond Shuler’s ability to contrive though, so he tried not to dwell on them for the fear of driving himself mad.
“Tell me Myr, from where do you wander? You are lucky to have escaped the mountain pass with just the injuries you do have.” Shuler used the short of the old stallions name, trying his best to create a sense of camaraderie and what he hoped would be trust. “I can lead you to the hot springs here in the Basin, if you’d like, where you can rest and clean your wounds. I’m sure our resident doctor would be more than happy to aid you, if you so wished. And if you don’t mind me asking, how did you come to lose your sight?”
So many questions, but he asked them with the utmost ingenuity and respect. Questions lead the way to knowledge, and knowledge to many, many other things. Shuler, despite his ever present congeniality and generally good natured heart, always had an ulterior motive. He hoped that Myrriden would agree to follow him. Conversation with the old stallion would be nothing but beneficial, someone who had been alive as long as Myr could potentially provide a wealth of information. Shuler watched him with interest, wondering at what might be going on in that head of his. Eye were often a window to the mind and soul, if you were practiced in reading them, but the blank stare of the white unicorn gave nothing away for Shuler to interpret. A poker face even better than his, perhaps. He was curious as to how such an existence had come to be.
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It's not a cry you can hear at night. [OPEN]
