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11-07-2013, 12:47 PM
"Afraid of decision, I buried my finer feelings in the depths of my heart and they died there."
The Arch, Alysanne had said, and so to the Arch he was headed, though he knew it was only Sasha she'd seen, and that neither of the twins stayed in one place for long.
But he hadn't seen either of them since he'd come into the aptly-named Threshold, making it some weeks now since he's slept near enough to hear Kostya's breathing, the low sounds of their murmured voices, talking in the language that only they understood. Too long, in other words; and so he searched in earnest, now.
It seemed, though, that he was searching improperly. After hours of walking, he'd emerged from the forest tangled and dirty with brambles, sweat and dank earth, and though it was deepening to evening, it was still hot and he realized he'd lost the thread of where he was going.
He needed help.
It was quiet, in the meadow, quiet enough to hear the chuckling stream not too far from him, and it was some time before he spotted another. First she was only a grey shape in the growing dimness, but as he drew nearer he saw there was something lopsided about her. It wasn't until he was close enough for speaking that he saw she was missing a wing, and the sight sent a brief shudder of sympathy through him; though he'd only known the earth, he couldn't imagine such a grounding injury when once you'd had the whole of the heavens open to you.
There was a bird above her, hovering close – Gabriel cast a cursory glance at it, then returned his gaze to the flightless mare. Could be the creature was one of the companions he'd seen before; he thought of the cheetah in the Threshold, the way it panted and waited between the stallion's legs, amber eyes blinking. Then again, there were a lot of birds above this meadow.
If it was a companion, that probably meant the mare had been here long enough know the area well. That, at least, was a stroke of good luck.
“Excuse me,” he started, the apology feeling unfamiliar. He flicked his tail, irritated at himself for needing help. Wasn't he a wanderer? Hadn't he found his way alone since he was a small red colt? “I'm looking for the Arch. Sense says it's that way,” and here he tilts his head to the north, where mountains were rising like rolling shoulders, with higher behind, “but I'm afraid sense is something I'm short on, recently.” The red stallion offered a self-deprecating half-smile and a shrug of one muscular shoulder, and glanced again skyward, where the bird seemed to be hovering nearer.
@[Africa]
But he hadn't seen either of them since he'd come into the aptly-named Threshold, making it some weeks now since he's slept near enough to hear Kostya's breathing, the low sounds of their murmured voices, talking in the language that only they understood. Too long, in other words; and so he searched in earnest, now.
It seemed, though, that he was searching improperly. After hours of walking, he'd emerged from the forest tangled and dirty with brambles, sweat and dank earth, and though it was deepening to evening, it was still hot and he realized he'd lost the thread of where he was going.
He needed help.
It was quiet, in the meadow, quiet enough to hear the chuckling stream not too far from him, and it was some time before he spotted another. First she was only a grey shape in the growing dimness, but as he drew nearer he saw there was something lopsided about her. It wasn't until he was close enough for speaking that he saw she was missing a wing, and the sight sent a brief shudder of sympathy through him; though he'd only known the earth, he couldn't imagine such a grounding injury when once you'd had the whole of the heavens open to you.
There was a bird above her, hovering close – Gabriel cast a cursory glance at it, then returned his gaze to the flightless mare. Could be the creature was one of the companions he'd seen before; he thought of the cheetah in the Threshold, the way it panted and waited between the stallion's legs, amber eyes blinking. Then again, there were a lot of birds above this meadow.
If it was a companion, that probably meant the mare had been here long enough know the area well. That, at least, was a stroke of good luck.
“Excuse me,” he started, the apology feeling unfamiliar. He flicked his tail, irritated at himself for needing help. Wasn't he a wanderer? Hadn't he found his way alone since he was a small red colt? “I'm looking for the Arch. Sense says it's that way,” and here he tilts his head to the north, where mountains were rising like rolling shoulders, with higher behind, “but I'm afraid sense is something I'm short on, recently.” The red stallion offered a self-deprecating half-smile and a shrug of one muscular shoulder, and glanced again skyward, where the bird seemed to be hovering nearer.
@[Africa]
gabriel
