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Without a light I fear that I will stumble in the dark You will die. A faint smile cursed Talion’s cracked lips, accompanied by a faint snort to shallow to be audible. Stating the obvious are we now? Mara can help you, if death is what you want. He halted in his steps as the snake made its presence clear in a low hiss, sliding its way through the stallions antlers in the corner of Talion’s eyes. The black eyes was fixed on him in an avid, voracious stare that nearly made him gulp at the notion. Poison. An effective way to put people out of their miseries, a method he was faintly familiar with, but a painful one at best. Had he not endured his share of agony? No! Harsh words echoed at them, and this time his head turned towards the wielder. A peculiar mare, another impaler, sprinted to them and had he not felt like she was different from the others of her race, he would have lashed himself at her with the last of his withering strength. Horns like hers made him queasy to say the least, and with a good reason. You don't need to die. I can heal you. Heal him? Talion stared ludicrously at the mare as she edged closer to him. Please. Her pleading eyes validated her words, but to him it all seemed distant, almost too hard to grasp. Why was she pleading for his life? For once, his mind did not race, did not grasp for the nearest strand of logic. For once, he went with his heart instead of his brain. He had ignored its tale for too long under the cover of reason and rationality, and for now, he did not question. His heart told him that he was confused, curious, amused and angry, depressed and exuberant, that he was conflicted beyond repair. It also told him that hope rested within closed chambers and self-made cages, that he was not ready and far away from reconciled with death, despite what his mind had told him days ago. For a long while, he listened without speaking. “Another time, Mara,” he smiled tensely at the snake, her name unfamiliar to his tongue. “I will take you up on your .. Second offer,” he replied to Gaucho’s proposal of resting on his sands. His words for Sikeax were less harsh, less manly, friendly almost. “.. and yours.” For his heart were curious, and she was to heal its achy inquire. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Word count: 407 OOC: @[Sikeax], do you want to have an own healing thread? He might want to talk to her. :3 |
