| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 |
| M.E. |
01-12-2014, 12:57 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-12-2014, 12:58 AM by Zikar-Sin.)
His attention caught, Sin allowed his gaze to flow pleasantly over towards a gilded lily who approached, the gold of her legs and mane catching his eye for a span of studiously observant moments before he politely gravitated his gaze to her eyes.
Ah, poor Sin! The way she moved toward him, the words on her tongue, the twist of her lip that molded her words into something sing-song, slightly derisive, and even more so chastising toward the tardy Disciple—well, Sin picked up none of this. These subtle cues of hers flew straight over his pate and the tips of his ears, his brain unwilling—or unable—to catch them, and so they escaped his notice entirely. Such were the weaknesses of the philosopher; he was well versed in psychological play and even more dedicated to his attention to the detail of life and scientific pursuit. Alas! He simply could not grasp the niceties of society, the hidden rules sandwiched in-between the bold black lines of text of the handbook of civilization. He only read the lines themselves, frank and polite in their tone—so, as he heard the delightful tones fall from the lady’s brown, supple lips, he read them as well-mannered and airy, and his eyes widened accordingly, pleasantly assessing the mare before him.
He was not aware he was in the presence of his current monarch; as it was, he dipped his head in reverence, for rank didn’t matter in the Disciple’s eye: All were deserving of his courtesy. “I’m sorry to hear that,” spoke the dappled stallion, speaking on the subject of Myrddin’s status within these airy peaks. He did not lie—he WAS sorry for the old stallion’s departure from these lands. Sorrier still was the inner notion within the back of Sin’s head—a tiny inkling he was ashamed of, because he knew how honest his inner thoughts were—that was not completely surprised with the state of things. Somewhere inside the Disciple’s intuition was the knowledge that Myrddin would leave this place one day. No, not this place-- Sin knew it was he himself that the old Haruspex would leave behind, his faithful Disciple left underneath the shadow of the borealis with a pack of bloodthirsty wolves. It was a reoccurring theme of his history that he should be abandoned—and with a heavy heart, he recognized it now.
Zikar-Sin heaved a great sigh, allowing his eyelids to fall over the white-blue of his irises for a moment, giving himself heartbeats to mourn the loss of his master. Then, he was done. The time for such sadness wasn’t now, not when he was entertaining a lady; he would not be so rude to her, oh no! That would be unforgivable for sure. “I will have to meet this Huyana you speak of,” he mused partially to himself; the prospect itself didn’t excite him much. In fact, he found himself subconsciously preparing for disappointment, unable to fathom a stranger’s face sitting in the seat of his old master. It felt unclean; adverse.
*"How long have you wandered, Disciple, that you seek a master long gone from our numbers?”*
At this, Sin’s visage brightened perceptively, for the reprimand under her teeth was missed by the Disciple. No, to him, all he heard was an excuse to divulge his findings—and he was always excited to divulge his findings. “Why, miss, I’ve been conducting researches of my own in this land of ours,” he said cheerily, lamp-like eyes unknowingly concentrated with frightening intensity on the golden madam in his rising, frenzied passion of his studies, “You see, there is very little opportunity to undergo long-term research on a constantly shifting area such as these herd-lands—there is always someone about to disrupt the natural rhythm of things, I’m ashamed to admit. I desired to start my researches afresh in isolation so that I may observe and study at my own leisure the dynamic properties of our tundra home!” A spark glinted in his eye; indeed, Sin seemed to go mad with his own excitement, totally delighted to find someone who might be interested in his findings! “I’ve also taken the opportunity to conduct my own experiments in ways where they won’t be influenced by atypical variables—the wandering, clumsy citizen, the curious child, so on and so forth. Why, I’ve even been able to study my own—“
The Disciple’s speech was very suddenly interrupted as a shadow swooped overhead, seemingly raining a putrid sort of debris as it charged passed. As a piece of it landed lightly on the curve of Sin’s horn, he gazed, cross-eyed, at the stinking matter. “Oh my,” he said with a shake of his head; the feather wafted off of his face, falling lightly onto the ground below. Blinking rapidly, Sin whipped his head around, trying to find the source of the disturbance—it was a last moment glance a flailing, fluttering thinghurling for the dame of golden fancy, and instinct urged the dappled stallion forward.
“Excuse me!!" he yelped, apologizing for his rash actions—he bolted for the lady’s side, attempting to ram his shoulder into her, out of the way of the curious, stinking bullet of a thing hurtling for her. While pushing was rather rude in itself, he decided it would be atrocious for him to ignore her plight and allow her to be attacked. He was a gentleman, after all. However, Sin became caught in a flurry of more putrid feathers and confusion—he felt something rather sharp twinge at his opposite shoulder, and a great weight seemed to ram into him, knocking the breath out of the thin lungs. Any other, larger stallion could have withstood the blow—not Sin. As the air left his chest, he was pushed back rather violently, thrown to the hard-packed earth just as the thing retreated.
Raising his head blearily, Sin sought the thing out—his interested piqued when he discovered their assailant was a young Pegasus filly. Though, as he studied her more closely and listened to her words, Sin scrambled to his feet not with fear or apprehension—but a growing sense of curiosity and wonder. “I say!” he said excitedly, his lamp-like eyes popping alarmingly as he studied the young Pegasus before him. “What a captivating disease! Is it viral, or bacterial? Magical, or entirely natural in design? I see it works by inducing decomposition in a live specimen—is this achieved through the death of the skin and muscle, or is this the corrosion of living tissue? Oh, I must learn more!”
[I'm so sorry this took so long to push out!!]
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IMG Credit: ness094@deviantart.com
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