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06-13-2015, 07:39 PM
How Long
How long have we walked now
How long have we strayed?
The wind is low, the cold
continuation of the day.
How long will I stay here?
Will we find our way?
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
The day wore on and Ashamin wore with it. His tail drooped and his hooves scraped the frosted earth in the wood--the unfamiliar, tangled wood. He knew that he had gotten a little lost, but, well, he didn't think he had gotten this lost.
The shadows loomed like threads and threats, patterning stripes between his spots of white. Occasionally, he bent his features to nose the little egg before him, taking care with it and checking often to make sure it was secure. His steps had begun to falter as he had walked farther--his hing leg had weakened with the long travels in the wrong direction.
Ashamin sighed, looked up, lifted at last his tired, lowered head, and surveyed the woods with his deep black eyes. His tail waved like a banner behind him, tapping the trunks of trees as he traveled between them. "Seems we're lost, 'panion," the buck said quietly into the dark nothing, his brow knitting tightly beneath the black lock and the pitted, twisted horn atop his brow. He exhaled once more, halting his movement and letting the weaker leg shake. It was scarred now in more ways than one.
He took the time still to orient himself, hoping he could find a way back home with his nose alone, but the maze of these woods offered him no direction. Ashamin circled and turned, looking for something he might have missed, hoping he wasn't so alone that he could be offered no instruction as to how he should return.
The blue buckskin of a mare that he had met, and Zahra, they seemed to know so much more about Helovia than he. Would Ashamin ever catch up? He let his tail drop, sliding against a trunk and curling around it, landing dully in the frost. The snow had stopped here but the cold had not--as used as he was to it, he shivered.
And then he saw the other, a unicorn patterned in white patches like himself. Ashamin made a wide circle, trying to better make out the stranger in the dark but struggling to see anything more than glints on the white of their coat. It was only when he came to see the other side of the stranger that he saw the stallion (for it was a stallion, that much was clear) was painted with stars.
To himself, he smiled at the memory of first seeing the aurora above the Basin. Had this stallion seen it, too? Or was he outside of the herd, like the watery mare had been?
Ashamin approached slowly and quietly, just barely poking himself out of the trees before and to the right of the stallion. "It's a good thing I'm not alone out here," Ashamin spoke out into the wood with a quiet smile. How good he was getting at speaking with others--how much he was coming into his own. He bent down, nuzzling the egg in his pouch and then turning his gaze back up to meet the stallion's. His eyes, deep, black, and empty, were filled with a pleasure and confidence no other could see. Ashamin wouldn't have ever admitted he was lost, not before. He wouldn't have ever asked a question. But a little time from home, a lot of time from the image of his grief, was changing him, and fast. And so he spoke, his voice louder now as he drew closer, hid cloven hooves striking the frozen earth unevenly as the one at the back right dragged ever so slightly.
"Are you lost, too?"
[[WHAM BAM TAGGED YOU @[Atlas]. Bad poem is bad.]]
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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