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Ashamin
Ashamin was no salesman. Unlike many, he had not come here to scout out new recruits so much as to reflect on his own, curious changes. But he had found a stallion in these woods, and a unicorn at that, and now that Ashamin was being questioned he was not about to decline the offer to speak and turn away. The other stallion's frankness, open honesty, was refreshing. And everything about the way that the ivory one, Demothi, spoke demanded a recriprocation of such an ideal. Luckily, Ashamin was not one to mince or deceive with his words, either. He listened as the other spoke, looking him over through low-lidded eyes shielding his orbs from the snow. All the questions demanded large answers, the kind that, as Haruspex, Ashamin was meant to specialize in. The kind that, as coward, he was often afraid to try and answer. The buck chewed his lip nervously, staving off the hunger that was clawing at his insides. "A pleasure, Demothi," he murmured somewhat absently. Not long before, just the previous night, Lochan had eaten the last of the supply. Ashamin knew he'd have to bring something home with him--find something in this gentler, less winter-worn wood. If that was even possible, if that was even the case, in the wake of this storm. Ashamin sighed and Lochan wandered to stand under his stomach, rubbing the tops of his budding horns against Ashamin's girth as if already preparing to clash with them. The haruspex leaned down, nudging the cerndyr, his silken sarong brushing against the snow-covered soil. The paint had appreciated the other stallion's light-hearted reply in regards to the weather, his easy way of introduction, his gentle asking for more. But the final question was easiest to answer, and so Ashamin began with that. "I am a traveller, much like yourself, it seems. I left my homeland after my father passed in the night. In my herd I have become a wise one of sorts, though I'm not sure I've the experience such a title requires--I am called the Haruspex, now. I came here not long ago, seeking a home, and found one in the Aurora Basin," Ashamin let the words flow easily, unintentionally beginning to answer the first question as he wrapped up the first. Lochan peeked out from under Ashamin, his third eye marking staring straight ahead and at the newcomer. Limited time, Demothi had said. Perhaps another, one less experienced with death, would have taken the phrase to mean that Demothi was just passing through Helovia. But Ashamin, he thought anyway that perhaps he knew better. The only place this stallion was passing through was life--and weren't they all? But Ashamin suspected, perhaps from Demothi's attitude, his cut to the chase style of speech, that this stallion had a shorter journey than most. His long tail traced lines in the earth; his black eyes shimmered. "I will not tell you that life here is easy," he said with a sudden start, tossing his head to the side, taking comfort in the rattling sound of the stone in his horn. "Nor will I tell you that life in the Aurora Basin's harsher climes is as sunny or shaded as another land, particularly in this Frostfall. But I will tell you that the home I have found there is one I would never trade, and that I was welcomed there when I had just felt death, and feared it even for myself." The young stallion, the wise one as he had been named, widened his eyes and batted away flakes with his short lashes. He looked for Demothi's gaze, hoping to catch it--to hold it. "I was nothing but a wordless orphan when I passed the Basin's sentinels, and since I've fought, been scarred, found family, and built a fire in a cave of my own; I'd like to think it's done me good." And this much, he knew, was somehow more than true. This much, this much, he knew everything but this much, which he hoped was in some way, something, maybe, maybe, was he what he used to be or more than he could dream? [[Tagged: Demothi]] |
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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