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05-05-2015, 12:12 AM
A S H A M I N
on his own
on his own
Ashamin had just begun to take comfort in the embrace of the cold, just started to close his eyes, when a figure appeared. She approached like a slow fog, coming in from the distance and making marks in the earth with her cleft hooves just as Ashamin had on his journey out and back from the steppe. The mare, carrying what Ashamin thought was the confidence of belonging to the land from whence she walked, stopped before the young buck.
He watched her from where he lay, his inky black eyes fluttering in a sort of disbelieving shiver. The mare was tall and uniquely marked in hues of crimson that trailed through her feathers and championed the crown of her head. Never before had he seen such horns; he had always thought that horns like his, like hers, tucked against the features and limited in their potential to cause harm, were rare. Perhaps, after being here for so short a time and now seeing them, this was not the case.
Ashamin watched the mare from his lowered position, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by her sudden questions. But Einarr had taught him some level of confidence, and he searched for it now, pulling it out from deep within his breast and letting it flow into the arctic air as gentle words. "I'm... Ashamin. Lena brought me here not long ago," he answered, somewhat hesitant. It sounded as if he was reassuring himself, as if he didn't know if it were entirely true. But still, he thought it useful to mention the mare's name, else he be misrecognized and chased from the border. "It's nice to meet you..." he added awkwardly, the comment trailing into silence. He wanted to ask her name, it seemed to make the most sense, but something inexplicable, some sort of je ne sais quoi that the mare possessed, left him uneasy.
In the end, he didn't even know if it was nice to meet her at all.
_______________
Accusations
of strangers--
identity
in demands.
What becomes
of the one
with the heart
stained in red?
[[for @[Phantom].]]
He watched her from where he lay, his inky black eyes fluttering in a sort of disbelieving shiver. The mare was tall and uniquely marked in hues of crimson that trailed through her feathers and championed the crown of her head. Never before had he seen such horns; he had always thought that horns like his, like hers, tucked against the features and limited in their potential to cause harm, were rare. Perhaps, after being here for so short a time and now seeing them, this was not the case.
Ashamin watched the mare from his lowered position, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by her sudden questions. But Einarr had taught him some level of confidence, and he searched for it now, pulling it out from deep within his breast and letting it flow into the arctic air as gentle words. "I'm... Ashamin. Lena brought me here not long ago," he answered, somewhat hesitant. It sounded as if he was reassuring himself, as if he didn't know if it were entirely true. But still, he thought it useful to mention the mare's name, else he be misrecognized and chased from the border. "It's nice to meet you..." he added awkwardly, the comment trailing into silence. He wanted to ask her name, it seemed to make the most sense, but something inexplicable, some sort of je ne sais quoi that the mare possessed, left him uneasy.
In the end, he didn't even know if it was nice to meet her at all.
Accusations
of strangers--
identity
in demands.
What becomes
of the one
with the heart
stained in red?
[[for @[Phantom].]]
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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