Knox has resigned himself to residing in the form of another. It is Cem that he chooses, if it isn't Cem himself who makes the decision. Knox walks on his ancestor's slender, muscled legs from the Thistle Meadow to the Dragon's Throat, seeking knowledge and hoping that for once, he will find no one he knows. Let his Goddess be kind to him now, as he walks under a darkening sky and her low hanging moon, and let him be free from the emotional strain of seeing how everyone has changed.

Manhattan walks beside the white commander's form, watching it glow in the light from the heavens, even as it is broken by the thinning canopy above. The protective cloak of Knox's magic has been cast aside for the undisturbed glow of his Godddess' light. The few trees about the meadow, the few trees trailing from the south edge of the Deep Forest, are familiar to Knox. He takes comfort in them, and balks when they begin to fade to desert.

Ah yes, the Dragon's Throat. It is not a place he has ever spent much time, nor is it a place he has had much of a desire to see. But now, that same curiousity that has urged him through the rest of Helovia drove him forth. He had seen the land bridge as a colt, and now he was older and wiser when he would cross it.

Except he wouldn't.

The Commander snorts and Knox pulls the thick white neck on his shoulders back. His forelegs lift into a low rear, as if the ocean has sprung up before them without warning. But hasn't it, in some ways? He turns to Manhattan, as if she will have an answer for him, but she only blinks slowly and yawns, longing for a sleep that Knox will not yet grant her. Not out of cruelty, no, but respect: it is Manhattan who makes the decision to stay awake. As long as her master stands, so shall see.

But she sees the surprise in his eyes, and the downturn of his lips beneath his ancestor's tight, tan bridle. He is disappointed, she can feel it. The Commander, the First, scolds Knox for caring.

This was never your home, the white mind thinks coldly.
And yet, it was someone's.
Do not grow soft. You suffer from sympathy.
And you, from apathy, old ancestor.

Cem says nothing in response. He is hungry, but abides by Knox's foolish pact of fasting for his Goddess. Still, the thought of food stir's Manhattan, and at the rumbling in her gut she turns and trails off on her own, back into the wood in search of food.

Alone, at the edge of an ocean cliff, Knox feels his heart ache. Not just for Manhattan's departure, bu the departure, from all or his life, of so many others. Where is Aylin to enjoy this moon?

Know wonders if he will ever know for only a brief moment before the Commander clashes his teeth. He has no time for such foolish emotion. He is hollow, standing at the edge of ruins of a herdland, and thinking only on the crashing of the waves in the night.

Keep on suffering, you foolish child. I'll be here, undying, at this border of the hollow.


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[[Tagged: Sikeax, @[Bucephalus]. Knox is on the mainland and not trespassing xD. More info about Cem, Knox's current form, can be found on Knox's profile. If you join, please let me know what permissions I have to use Knox's and Manhattan's magics on your character--chances are he won't but I like to have my bases covered in case Knox or an ancestor decides to be unpredictable.]]