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Gift of the Watcher
Gifts for the living
that come from the dead
Or maybe just creatures
with songs in their head
Let us make merriment,
let us share songs,
outside the storm strikes,
inside we're warm.
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
The bicolor buck and his bonded were not alone for long. Soon, as if a part of the wind, a spirit came to join them. A spirit with no name, no shapes, no being or body, and lastly, most terrifyingly, no eyes. BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
The stallion felt the hairs on his neck stand up with the chill of the song and the wind. Ashamin, features pressed to his 'panion, the silken fabric now drawn over them both as they huddled for warmth, did not quite know what to make of the creature. He was filled with fear and a protective urgency, but some part of him was driven to stay still. He knelt by his bonded, little Lochan, and failed to act. Was the creature paralyzing him? No, as he watched that creature flit about his cave and dance through too many forms to count, he doubted it had an understanding of the art of unmoving.
The Haruspex was poised to speak, to say something, when the song's echoes seemed to become all he could hear. The creature drew closer and Ashamin stiffened, wrapping his long tail around Lochan. The little cerndyr let out a squeak and hopped up to his feet, already so steady, already so in command of himself. "Lochan, wait," Ashamin started to warn, but it was no use. His companion joined the creature in its merriment, dancing on his wobbly newborn legs and letting himself tumble and fall. Here was an innocent, so unafraid of the unknown and so willing to pick himself up after every fall.
In that moment, Ashamin admired the newborn more than any other living thing.
Following Lochan's example, Ashamin stood to face the newcomer. He lifted his tail forth to his features, brushing its wisps of hair over his wet cheek, and let it settle at his side. It was then that he saw something in the creature's possession: something gold, something blue, and something with the power to spark. Ashamin's ears perked with interest, and Lochan tilted his head far back to take note of the object himself. The white eye on his fore, eternally open, seemed to be watching with incredible intention.
At last the object landed, its sparks bouncing off the cave floor and towards Lochan with abandon. Ashamin whinnied, his tone worried, nudging Lochan out of the way with his tail. The little companion stumbled, and a stray shock was sent up Ashamin's tail. It felt almost harmless; he was surprised. Slowly, tentatively, he brought his tail closer to the coiled object until it rested within its central gold ring. Ashamin smiled, looking up at the gift-giver, and tested the weight of it.
But, light as it was, the balancing act would take some getting used to--when he lifted his tail it fell quickly back to the earth, sending sparks towards the gathered brush that had been Lochan's nest. A few of them gathered and struck until the little pile, strewn closer towards the middle of the cave by the gusts of wind and Lochan's hatching, formed a small, central flame.
Lochan let out squeaks and chirps and little clicking echoes that bounced off the walls and sprang from his hooves. Already the cerndyr was so insistent on being close to his bonded. He darted from the fire, stumbling, and fell at Ashamin's white hooves. The haruspex lowered his features, nuzzling his companion, and let calm wash over him as the creature's song lowered in pitch. It was as if it was an expression an emotion somehow, or trying to communicate. Ashamin had wanted to thank the creature in a way it might understand, but knew only his own words. By the light of the fire, he spoke: "Thank you, spirit, it is a lovely gift."
Weakly, Ashamin cleared his throat. To the little Cerndyr who lay at his feet and the grand shifter who had appeared before them both, he let out a low song. It was a shaky tune, one he only barely had a grasp on, but it was the one his father had sung to him as a colt, and though he could not render it with such majesty he could remember it still. He gathered the silk, slipping it around his neck once more, and nudged the cerndyr to stand. Carefully, still humming and leading the odd shifter along with them, he moved towards the entrance of the cave to gather the tinder once more and feet it to the fire he'd spark.
Nothing would keep them more warm than such fire, such wonder, such song.
""
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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