| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 |
| M.E. |
07-03-2014, 11:32 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-03-2014, 11:35 AM by Zikar-Sin.)
....Did that hurt you...?
Quietly, attentively, Zikar-Sin stood ready and ever manic in his pupil as the Lord of Time’s disapproving gaze washed over the dappled hide, the ruined, matted locks that tangled around his crown and spine. The Haruspex could feel wafts of power emanating from the stout little deity; currents of static ran the length of his dreadlocks and crackled against the metal frame of his monocle, his sides teeming with the dormant electricity that flowed like water from the pores of the ancient God. Yet, though Sin stood in the shadow, the presence, the attentions of a Helovian primeval lord—one of those great Titans who formed the wondrous world in which they lived, even crafting the home where they now resided-- the tragedy of Sin’s cluelessness persisted; the chill of the Time God’s subtle dissatisfaction failed to rouse and alert the dappled stallion in any way. In fact, the grin on Zikar-Sin’s face did not dissipate, but instead stayed fixed upon his visage, a testament to his devotion—for he knew that if the God before him truly wished to banish Sin from his presence, he would do so, in all his infinite power. That he allowed Sin to stand his ground—to call himself “Haruspex” without clear reproach—heartened the scholarly stud all the more.
He was here to serve the Lord of Time with all his ability, and as such, he answered his heavenly liege promptly, without a stutter to his teeth or hesitation to his heart. Time was rather important to this fellow, of course—and Sin wouldn’t waste any of it. “Lady Illynx the Gilded Blade and Lord Deimos the Reaper rule us currently, my liege, the very same worthy souls you handpicked from our company,” he said smoothly, with a dip of his head, “and if I may attempt to correct any confusion or miscommunication on our end—I believe what Deimos and Illynx have crafted is merely an armistice, my Lord, a cease-fire, if you will. After our…” Sin drew a small breath, exhaling it softly as he continued, “…unfortunate losses some seasons ago, they believed it prudent that our current focus should be focused inward, in the betterment of our herd and kinfolk, with a reduced worry for potential bloodshed, yes? Our loyalty lies only with you, my Lord—“ he dipped his head again,”—and the land you so graciously gifted us. It wouldn’t do for us to let our affairs fall to ruin, merely for some past altercations that are so easily lost in time.” He paused, blinking for the first time; his grin never wavered, however. Talking to a God was coming a little bit easier. “I ask that you forgive our failings, if our intentions weren’t properly clear.”
But then the Lord of Time pointed out yet another failing, this time directed squarely at poor Sin. With an affected shudder, the Haruspex said, “I do apologize for my lapse in civility! I am named Zikar-Sin, sire.” He would have to do better if he were truly going to be the relay between the Heavens and the Earth, he must never allow his top courtesies to slip through the cracks. He was the ambassador for his people, after all—and aren’t unicorns the most civil of all races?
Squaring his shoulders slightly and gathering his posture, Sin allowed the embarrassment of his faux-pas to roll off his chest, addressing his God of Time this time with purpose, instead of passive supplication. “My Lord, I have a humble request from our herd,” he said, remembering what his lady Illynx had charged him to do, “Our brothers and crafters Ulrik and Farenjer have created a fine cloth tent, with the powers you’ve granted upon their position. We ask that you bless this creation with the gift of silence, so that any who enter it will be given quiet solitude from the rest of the world—at least, for as long as they reside within its cashmere walls.”
...Forgive Me...
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