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03-09-2015, 05:05 PM
There was no reciting of famous poetry or Poe lines, no quaking storm rattling the hinges of the sentinels, but shock, amazement, and excitement were still maintained in the polished, impish grin fastened to his features. His expectations were matched and countered, blessed and anointed, because he knew of magic, of enigmas, of quandaries, and he’d met one more, resting on the boughs of his Basin. The lad’s eyes continued in their narrowed conjectures, careful studying, complex maneuvering, a mind rapidly churning and burning, hastily trying to put together rhyme and reason. The mutual inspection was uncanny, and when a girl’s voice resounded from the avian frame, his eyes became rounded saucers, indulging far too much curiosity, lending far too many buoyant possibilities. Had she been enchanted, once upon a time, a distant maiden emboldened, cherished, then discarded when she erred, becoming cursed and scarred, doomed to appear wicked and deceitful? Had she flown from land to land, seeking knowledge and wisdom, appearing in the form of a sable bird, taut, rigid, but uncanny and sagacious? Was she another God, taking wings and plumes and feathers of their favored friend, coming to greet mortals? But her words were funny, because she was a bird - of course they were different! – and he couldn’t hold back the chorus of laughter ringing from his chest, bright, gallant, strong, enjoying the presence of the unknown. She didn’t threaten, she didn’t glare, she didn’t seem to seize or possess the yearning desire to destroy, so he was left to educate her on discrepancies, play the beast to her queries. “Probably because we’re a different species.” He followed the statement on a wink, still displaying a charitable endeavor, not meant to cut or slay or slash at her whims – he welcomed questions and inquisitions, he certainly had enough of them. Perhaps she’d do the same, allow him a moment of clarity in the bizarre circumstances. To continue in their stead, the augured princeling shrugged, bordering on simplicity in her requests. “I was born this way. My father and mother have horns, feet, and tails like mine." Both had leonine tassels, cloven hooves, beautiful, long, elegant swords, emblazoned and endowed with power, prestige, and prowess; where his dam coaxed gentle angles and sonnets of the sun, his carved notches of supremacy, of dominance, across the cavern walls. “We’re Unicorns.” The latter statement floated and cascaded on a hint of pride, on the enamel and lacquer of esteem; he was always taught his specious was strong, enduring, beautiful, and at times, treacherous. “Isn’t that why your face is different from all the other ravens? Because you were born that way?” Or was there something else (and suddenly he wanted a story to sink his teeth into, some great, grand, epic tale full of adventures and skull-faced birds soaring across the sky)? Erebos yearned to spill out each and every inquiry whirling and contorting along his mind, but only the former stuck, reaching for answers and uncertainties, not wishing to continue his residence in the halls of ignorance. OOC;; --- TAG;; @[ ] |
- table by Niki -
