It was without any expectations he appeared by the ancient structure as night fell. The moon rode high in the sky, only a crescent still yet steadily growing into herself; the pregnant glow was ruddy and rich, ominous and bloody. She looked in the mood for carnage and schemes - and Morir would have been only too happy to oblige with both if there were only someone around to plan murder and chaos with.

A shadow among shadows, the tall brute emerged from the trees like a ghost, his usual slow death-march accompanied by the quiet rattle of the amulet against the bone crown. He had found it not too long ago - or rather, it had found him, falling from some birds nest to land within the pallid tines and had since remained; Morir didn't care to remove it even though it made useless sound. It amused him somehow, the idea of decorating his mask with trinkets; one day he might add more, similar to the treasured feather that hung from a braid in the mane. Maybe others would find intrigue with one or other object, perhaps he'd be able to acquire more important things for them - he was not without needs after all, and a long winter was soon to approach. A stone with interesting shape, soft feathers or fragile shards of egg or ice might buy him a night within herd borders, some food or even the soft curves of a mare - who knew.

Yet, Morir knew he would trade both elk-mask and half his soul for a reply tonight. As he reached the Rotunda and ascended the carved steps to stand beneath the glassed ceiling that, someone had assured, was stained in vibrant colors and looked quite magnificent, he felt a pang of regret, not for the first time during this summer. Once a mare of treacherous words might have snapped at him for stepping unbidden into the building, might have nipped him with the kind of toxic kiss that left the skin bubbling and rotting away... Once he would have been roughly shoved aside by a massive stallion, greeted by a kick in the gut and the hiss of a dragon before chased down again - who, after all, was he to intrude upon the conversation of the Regime leaders?
But no such thing was there to greet him now, only the silence of the night and a soft rustle of dry leaves in the wind. He tried calling out, one time in the hope that someone, anyone he knew and could call brother, sister, would reply; a ringing cry that echoed through the landscape before slowly fading away into nothingness...

It sounded so lonely that he didn't repeat it.


@[Sheba] if you're interested? Open to anyone :)

"I embrace the thorny rose to my chest and
fall into the crimson sea
I continue dancing upon the
piled bodies until I die"