Enemies, Wars & Broken Hearts [Lace]

the Rift

Enemies, Wars & Broken Hearts [Lace]

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459

Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE

Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan

09-15-2012, 08:54 PM (This post was last modified: 09-15-2012, 09:02 PM by Lace.)

LACE

Who, in his mind,
has not probed the dark water?

A tension was arising in the air. He could almost taste it with every breath, felt it seep into the muscles; unwelcome it made his heart race. It wasn't intentionally that the stallion arched his neck and lifted the knees higher and higher for each step until he all but danced forth on his path, with black-tipped ears slicked back against the steely neck and nostrils flaring around sharp bursts of exhalations. He even disliked the readiness that made the amber eyes scrutinize the surroundings and take in every rock and crevice, weigh every square meter before his feet in search for traps, roots to stumble over or holes to trip into. It came unbidden to him, and yet he didn't attempt to lower the guard or stop his bonded from darting off now and then, leaving the safe perch on his whithers for the perilous task of scouting ahead. He followed her flight when he could, when the small shape of the dragon didn't disappear into the light of the sun or flew so high that his eyes could no longer see her.

There was a tension lowering over the lands of Helovia, and he knew the source of it only too well.

War.

It was coming, and Lace was torn between cursing the black mare that initiated it and a wish to toss himself into the fray at her side, repay the debt he owed her through the only thing he was sure he could do and do well. His attempts at talking Mirage out of it had been in vain, and he wasn't going to say anything more on the subject. They could argue about it however much they wanted to, her arguments for the needs of the Qian weren't going to change and his own claim that there had to be another way had been rejected. He had a feeling that she wanted to agree with him, and he wanted to believe that she meant it when claiming that she wasn't a warmonger.
It was just... words and actions were walking separate ways now, and somehow it made the grulla feel powerless.

He paced across the meadow, too worked up to stand still and graze. The honey-colored gaze traveled over the horizon, soon catching the sight of a horse in the distance. Lace ignored it at first, but as the silhouette didn't seem to move at all between the times it came into view, it quickly began to tease on his curiosity. With a restless jerk of the head he lengthened the stride into a flowing canter that engulfed the distance between them, uninterested in the fact that his approach might seem threatening.
The closer he came the more he could see of the stranger, and when he managed to make out the color and markings of the other he realized that they might not be as foreign to one another as he first had thought. They were of roughly the same built, and while the other might be slightly taller than himself, there weren't many inches that separated them. Lace slowed down to a trot, then shortened the steps until he all but jogged in place; stretching the legs out once more, he walked over and fell in beside the golden tobiano with a powerful stride, caused more by unrelenting tension than any real wish to show off.

"Is something eating at you, brother?" he asked with deep but low voice and raised the black-masked head to meet the eyes of the other stallion, making sure to match his pace with the other. He remembered without saying anything the time when they had raced against one another across the plains of the Heart, surrounded by many others. He hoped that no hard feelings lingered from that time; it had only been sport, but some weren't too good at accepting even small losses, and it must have been grueling to loose a third place position to a mere stranger in such a manner.

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