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08-05-2014, 04:12 PM
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TORLEIK
Long is the winter of a man's soul To be told of Ophelia's sister mere hours before happening to meet her was...unsettling, to put it simply. Whereas Ophelia felt soft, calm and gentle to Torleik, Ktulu came on strong, rough, a sort of unpolished diamond. The sisters shared similar forms, though Ktulu, again, was the more...solid of the two. Her pelt was black, her mane pure white, a mark on her shoulder he couldn't quite make out - and didn't want to risk staring to discern it. What concerned him the most was the gigantic bear that had suddenly been in their presence; the fact that it had been walking calmly alongside the dark mare had immediately alerted him to the fact that it was probably, somehow, gods knew how, a companion. A bear. Ophelia's family would never cease to surprise him, it seemed. Torleik had greeted Ktulu quietly, politely, offering his name and association as a friend to her sister, then took his place on Ophelia's right side so that he would not be between the sisters as they walked. While he could certainly admit to himself that he harbored some fledgling emotions for the lighter of the females, Torleik did not for a second think this entitled him to assume a place as a wedge between the sisters. Their trip was made mostly in surprisingly comfortable silence that the stallion did not seek to break. If any conversation was to be made with him, he would allow the two women to initiate it. He was here because Ophelia had asked him to come with her on her search for family. They had found her sister. Now he assumed they would continue on for the white mare's daughter, or perhaps other siblings. Searching for parents didn't cross the rabicano's mind in part because he no longer had any family; "family" now meant Irelyn, or whatever children he might father - might have fathered with Brisa, he reminded himself bitterly. A displeased snort released itself from his nostrils and he glared to the side, away from the sisters. Irelyn, who had been following Tinek, settled herself amongst his horns and took up lounging. Such an interesting personality is little owl-griffin had. She was both nocturnal due to her owlish nature, and lazy due to the feline within her, apt to take naps at any time. Torleik supposed a nap was warranted as the sun was beginning to sit low on the horizon, bathing the world in a ruddy crimson. Such lighting complimented both siblings in their own unique ways. Ophelia looked somehow more tragically pure, as if such purity was against her will; Ktulu became the juxtaposition of her sister, the darkness and quiet rage of a roughly hewn, barely hemmed in violence. What he would have given for the opportunity to sit and listen to their lives' tales. Without warning, the mares suddenly picked up the pace, startling Torleik. What had happened? Was there a threat? Shaking Irelyn off, he tensed his muscles, ready for a fight, to defend these women if necessary (though he doubted they actually needed him for that). But there was no threat. No formidable foe in the clearing, waiting to rend them to pieces, no angry figure ready to challenge them to spill blood. Only death, waiting like an open maw, rotting teeth and putrid breath biding its time for the opportunity to suck them in, steal their terra firma and plunge them into drowning blackness in which there was no purchase for their hooves. The Bloodskald had no notion of who this decaying figure might be purely by sight - he'd never seen her before; but the life in the air around them was sucked clean out and the temperature seemed to drop. As his eyes darted between both women, the rigidity in their spines, the droop in their tails, the shock splashed like a sudden scream all over their faces, he knew that this figure, this dead corpse meant something to both of them. To ask would be an unforgivable offense, to break the moment and the silence with a question purely meant for himself was unacceptable. There had been no one there for him when he'd lost everything, no one to comfort him, to give him words of empathy, to offer a shoulder to lean on when he was not strong. Torleik could offer this for both of them, but Ophelia was his first concern. Was this her daughter, this bloodied, decaying form on the ground? Neither sister had uttered a word, a name, anything to give him any hint as to who this might be. Quietly, softly, the stallion drew alongside Ophelia, saying nothing as he let his shoulder touch hers. Irelyn alighted on her bonded and cautiously, with the utmost gentleness, stepped across him to the white mare's back, flattening herself against the pale woman's form and purring strongly. It was all she knew to comfort anyone, and the owl-griffin was deeply distressed by the pain she felt coming from this unicorn like her bonded. @[Ophelia] @[Ktulu] "talk talk talk" 'Mental talking' Thoughts |
![[Image: 531c0b471919e]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/531c0b471919e)
No man is an island.
Pixel by: Tamme :D
Pixel by: Tamme :D
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