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A S H A M I N
on his own
on his own
The ocean hissed behind the pair and the stale wind of the day stirred about them. Ashamin watched as the stallion before him, a great beast, folded his wings and cocked his head, as if sorting out the information thrust forth at him from Ashamin's still-parted lips. The figure that had seemed so instantly menacing relaxed as if aware of Ashamin's apprehension. Then again, how could he not be? the young buck thought to himself with a rising shame. Slowly, feeling returned to the young stallion; his cheeks were still wet but the tears, sudden and unexpected, slowed their flow to a halt. The words of the older stallion washed over Ashamin in a soothing, broken tongue. Einarr, as Ashamin gathered he was named, spoke words Asha had never heard. But he also had wings, so how unexpected was that?
It took a few moments for Ashamin to be able to even comprehend what was being said to him. The sentiments were difficult to absorb, particularly in their fragmented form. But Ashamin learned quickly that Einarr was trying to help, not meaning to harm. And in a state as desperate as this, was that not enough? He recognized the same tenderness in the stallion that Lena had put forth in the forest of the threshold. Perhaps that was simply the state of those who inhabited this new land. Perhaps all were really this kind.
This time, his hesitation did not last so long. He still stuttered, his mind tripping over Einarr's words and their meanings. Killing himself? Had that been what Einarr had thought Ashamn had been doing, had thought he had meant? He cast a quick glance at the water past the stallion and wondered if there was something deadly about its rocking, something that could have brought him to his end. Would he have entered it, moments later, even having stopped, if not for Einarr?
The nose of the other stallion hovered, an open expectation and invitation. Ashamin felt relieved at the familiar gesture; Lena had stuttered at his proffering a touch, but this stallion, lacking the accent he'd heard in others and clearly not a native (perhaps even his wings were a sign of this, perhaps he came from some land inhabited by bird hybrids of a different sort,) seemed to recognize Ashamin's natural greeting. Slowly, nervously at first, Ashamin extended his neck, lowered in a submissive stance, and pressed his cheek first to the nose of the other stallion.
"I... I was not trying to kill myself," he explained in a whisper, his heart still beating in his ears with something akin to fear, even as he approached the stranger with a stance of forborne trust. "I'm just so alone, for the first time. And I don't know what to do."
As he spoke the second set of words, his closing reply, he pressed himself suddenly closer to the larger stallion. There was comfort in the shimmer of his ebony coat and his muscled, warrior's hide--so like Ashamin's fathers. He pressed forward until his chest locked with the stallion's and his neck extended so that his head rested at the joint of Einarr's massive black wing. He took in the sight of the feathers and the warm comfort of another for the first time in so long. Quietly, he murmured: "My name is Ashamin."
And, hovering over the softly roiling waters, the Gulls carried on, diving and darting over the surface, with tangled talons tracing the paths made by prey and splashing white-blue foam into the wind.
_______________
What he meant
what he said
who could know
in the end?
With a tear
and a touch
gentle hearts
remind love.
It took a few moments for Ashamin to be able to even comprehend what was being said to him. The sentiments were difficult to absorb, particularly in their fragmented form. But Ashamin learned quickly that Einarr was trying to help, not meaning to harm. And in a state as desperate as this, was that not enough? He recognized the same tenderness in the stallion that Lena had put forth in the forest of the threshold. Perhaps that was simply the state of those who inhabited this new land. Perhaps all were really this kind.
This time, his hesitation did not last so long. He still stuttered, his mind tripping over Einarr's words and their meanings. Killing himself? Had that been what Einarr had thought Ashamn had been doing, had thought he had meant? He cast a quick glance at the water past the stallion and wondered if there was something deadly about its rocking, something that could have brought him to his end. Would he have entered it, moments later, even having stopped, if not for Einarr?
The nose of the other stallion hovered, an open expectation and invitation. Ashamin felt relieved at the familiar gesture; Lena had stuttered at his proffering a touch, but this stallion, lacking the accent he'd heard in others and clearly not a native (perhaps even his wings were a sign of this, perhaps he came from some land inhabited by bird hybrids of a different sort,) seemed to recognize Ashamin's natural greeting. Slowly, nervously at first, Ashamin extended his neck, lowered in a submissive stance, and pressed his cheek first to the nose of the other stallion.
"I... I was not trying to kill myself," he explained in a whisper, his heart still beating in his ears with something akin to fear, even as he approached the stranger with a stance of forborne trust. "I'm just so alone, for the first time. And I don't know what to do."
As he spoke the second set of words, his closing reply, he pressed himself suddenly closer to the larger stallion. There was comfort in the shimmer of his ebony coat and his muscled, warrior's hide--so like Ashamin's fathers. He pressed forward until his chest locked with the stallion's and his neck extended so that his head rested at the joint of Einarr's massive black wing. He took in the sight of the feathers and the warm comfort of another for the first time in so long. Quietly, he murmured: "My name is Ashamin."
And, hovering over the softly roiling waters, the Gulls carried on, diving and darting over the surface, with tangled talons tracing the paths made by prey and splashing white-blue foam into the wind.
What he meant
what he said
who could know
in the end?
With a tear
and a touch
gentle hearts
remind love.
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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