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10-23-2014, 01:04 PM
Scarecrow As both the fillies spoke, the creatures in the trees began to run away. Maybe they were actually good fillies, maybe they didn't mean harm. Cerin's eyes were diverted only for a moment, while they both puzzled over the name of him. Of course they all resorted to the usual; scarecrow. Good thing they understood. He turns back, and bobs his head in agreement. For now, he'd be safe to wander the shadows of these herds they hail from. The painted filly speaks first; she belongs to the edge. The way she talks makes it seem like an expansive place. Companions, fire, warmth, those things sounded comforting right now; but one line he stuck on him, "they control the fires". How are horses supposed to control fires without a lot of manpower? Cerin, with a calm face on the outside, was starting to be fearful. Were both these places so populated? He wanted a herd, but certainly not one that keeps a lot of horses, horses meant quicker window for being discovered. However, the pale filly speaks. Her words or few, but key. The Throat is small but tight-knit. That is all he needs to hear. Carefully, he steps towards Sikeax as she moves closer. His eyes flit to Meridia, whom he feels terrible for leaving. His legs curls gently down, as he lowers his muzzle to the ground in a bow, careful to not touch the two girls. His bow is out of respect; he learned in quickly in his wanderings. Being both a slave-child, a hideaway, and a captive, he's learned a lot in the ways of "proper" etiquette. As he stands from the bow, his gaze turns to Sikeax, and offers a small bob of his head. It's his signal that he would like to follow. If this "small herd" proved to be false, then he stored it in his memory to find the Edge. Maybe they would accept him and hide him then. Cerin is not meant for the day, Cerin is meant for the shadows, to work silently. @[Merida] [Should Cerin request to be an outcast to post in the Throat?] these words are all we have |
