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Pinks and Blues
What lives on
but grief, and
ice he can't
penetrate?
He stands on
his own once
more, in cold,
in shadow.
The heart bleeds
frozen, still.
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
Ashamin wandered back towards the basin, veering South as he went. There had been so much more of the steppe to explore but the jarring encounter with Einarr had left him feeling uneasy. His heart ached even still at the thought. How had the stallion made him fall apart so easily? Was he really so fragile that all it took was a few words yelled and the kind extension of a cheek for him to melt completely?BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
He still felt hot from the thought of tears. He could feel the tightness of the salt traced along his cheek and down his jaw; he cringed at his own weakness and lashed his long tail to and fro with agitation. He was a mess, his father would have been disappointed. The thought disgusted him.
The early morning that he had first ventured out in had since disappeared. He had intended to head straight for the Basin, hoping to make it back before night fell completely and he was left feeling even more alone, but something about the winds from the South had altered his course. Now, in the southeast region of the odd sort of peninsula the upper part of this land formed, he found he was once more alone. The ice rose in odd formations, creating arches and wave-like patterns that jutted out from the scrub and snow. He hardly noticed when more flakes fell, and only snorted and flicked them away. He was not in the mood for such beauty tonight. And as the sky darkened, turning to rose and casting odd reflections on the overwhelmingly cold blue of the steppe, and the Aurora threatened to appear overhead, he knew that he could not stand to see it again.
The cave up ahead proved to be the perfect solution. A secluded place where he could work out his thoughts, his emotions, without being disturbed by the inaccessible beauty and joy of the nature around him and, more importantly, without being discovered by a member of the Basin. He couldn't stand the thought of Lena seeing him now, still shaking, his face streaked with pale traces in the dirt on his features. How she would have regretted bringing him North, how disappointed she would have been in him.
And forbid, too, the thought of his father somehow looking down on him from above and seeing his weakness now. Forbid his failure be made so clear to the object of his tireless affection and sorrow.
[[For Sikeax. I started this as closed because I wasn't sure what you wanted but we can open it up if you'd like!]]
((Inspiration Song: Boys Who Wanna be Girls))
Table by Jen, with help from Avis
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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