My silence is disturbed before too long, first by the arrival of Dog from the crystal labyrinth, caught from the corner of my gaze as she bounded out of the chasm of its mouth towards me with tongue lolling and hind legs flicking up and towards her right side in her rather odd, sideways charge. I dodge as she leaps, white teeth clicking on empty air and the sound of my laughter meeting her ears that she has failed to surprise me yet again.

" Boró̱ na aisthanthó̱ ti̱n kardiá sas," I explain to her for the hundredth time, and she cocks her ears back in displeasure of my chiding, a dark silhouette near the entrance drawing both of our interest as the sadness of my dog meets me (adding more proof to my words); turning to face him as my idiot leaps forward a few paces and stands in a fierce stance, I find that whoever it is seems to wish to be left alone, slumped peacefully against a wall near the entrance.

It is male, anyway.

I return to my wall and Skýlos lays down on a bed of moss nearby me, shutting her blue eyes and attempting to slip away as I look back to the symbols that allude me.

But, ah, there is something I have missed, areas where the stone has ebbed away with the flow of time, the markings faint…

These Gods.

They were not born all at once, nor was the earth upon which they ruled.

My eyes broaden, I step closer to the stone; Dog’s head rises from her rest and I think, at first, that it is only my momentary thrill of excitement that has disturbed her, but soon the figure speaks some cryptic words into the cavern and another familiar voice chimes in after him.

My ears flatten atop my head, icy eyes piercing as they narrow and flit towards the duo with disgust for disturbing me at such a pivotal moment. Snorting with aggravation as I trot towards them both, a blend of concern for the question posed by Tangere and dark, violent loathing instigated by the pretty tattoos along my pelt racing through my core, I hear Skýlos’ paws clicking along the stone behind me, the ripples of her heart reading that she is excited to meet one I know and that she is concerned, as well.

Her concern, however, is deeper than mine. I glance down to her, scenting the air with my dark nares more fully to find infection, sweet and putrid in the stale winds, emanating from the stallion whom lies on the cool stone.

Raising my wings high above me as I approach so that I can slip in alongside Tangere without having her touch them, I look down at the black and white smut on the cave floor and gasp. " Glykó anémous," I breathe, looking over to the unicorn with the air of one who finds another incompetent and asking stupid questions.

He is, quite obviously, not alright.

Dog’s sharp, high noted whine follows my utterances of horror and shock.

"Aníkani̱ sklávos, Tangere," I say, looking still to the dappled unicorn and deeply thankful for dumbness of this land in so far as my native tongue is concerned (for it allows to me to vent my frustrations upon her without wounding her heart and the insult could simply be my befuddlement getting the better of my abilities to name the stupid girl), "how far is your home from here?" Frustrated as nine hells compressed into the heart of a snowflake, I look down at the plain wretch dying in the caves and wonder, as the bell tolls louder than my heart, why it is I direct one slave to save another.

They serve me no uses; neither of them are of my chosen home and I cannot own them in this land. There are none I have seen who use their wit and treasures to hold rights over the lesser creatures they meet in their lives, and for perhaps the thousandth time since coming here I long for my darling hand maidens and all their skills.

All I had taken advantage of, believed to be something integral in other lands and easily found outside the confines of my prison, was back home in that dark cell. I could not call to them, my Purrhos was two years away from me and, while I had her knowledge locked within myself, I did not have her satchels full of instruments and herbal salves.

"No matter," I snap, the combination of my studying being ruined by dying slaves and idiots and my longing for my old life with new baubles bubbling over as I stamp a dark dipped leg down and my Dog cowers back a pace, feeling the undulations of my heart as I combat the poison and my own tender, disgustingly weak needs to help, "your legs are slow. Wait here. Skýlos, akolouthí̱soun, leave the sklávoi."

And with that, we are out into the sunlight again, wings spread broad and directing our path back towards the rolling and verdant hills where, surely, there are the herbs I will need or another who holds the magical ability to restore him to wellbeing.

And suspended this way, the world flecks of blurry color cloaking the sheer white of low laying clouds… I can breath.

[ OOC: Cealestis is off to the Hidden Falls to get herbs/maybe a healer to help patch Oberon up. :3 She’ll be back next round when I’m due to post.

Translations;
”I can feel your heart,”
”Sweet Winds,”
“Incompetent slave,”
“Follow,” “slaves,” ]

@[Oberon]


C e a l e s t i s</style>
who knows how deep the heart runs</style>