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08-07-2015, 11:55 PM
The world seemed dead. So quiet, so frozen. All of this lands inhabitants seemed to be welled up in their individual little corners of the world, struggling to keep warm. To venture outside was to invite the cold and quick biting winds upon your small mortal body, and that certainly was a disastrous invitation for frostbite. The golden though could not stand one second more in that prison of a Basin. It was such an allure to stay when he held such power there. Where he could stand before others with the smirk and satisfaction of being above them. Yet, that was not all he felt in such situations. He could never name it. Nor did he even recognize it. It was a tension which hung in the air about him. A frustration he could not name, and weariness that haunted his steps. Perhaps it was just frostfall, and the piles of snow which now covered the Basin. So then perhaps all that needed to solve it was a journey out. It hadn’t been easy. The snow drifts in front of the Arch had grown taller. At one point Haldir had to jump on the golden’s back, a hated affair, in order to get through. He too though was determined not to be left. And though the golden stomped, and snarled, nipping at him when he jumped back off after the worst, the deer was still quite pleased with himself. In the past few weeks he had grown very sure of himself. The golden’s ill attitudes had nothing upon him now. He had antlers. Walking by the golden you might not recognize the goofy fawn of before. To be sure he still was a playful thing, but as he had a crown himself now. Though his antlers were still covered in fuzz and growing, he already bore several great tines. Holding them high, he steps as he had seen wild deer in the Basin do, high and proud. It was a playful sport really. Not exactly a permanent mood, but certainly he was proud of it. From the mountains they had come, trying to get away from snowy prison. Haldir for once able to walk beside due to the lighter snow, and the golden, head low and swinging relaxed. They headed down to get away, to move on to something different. There was so little to do with no one about. Usually someone was heading up on these slopes, or you could see moving on the flatlands of Helovia. But no one stirred. Growing hungry, the golden had taken a turn. If no one was about he might as well move to do something worth wide today. Climbing back up a small track, with Haldir bounding in front of him, the pair made their way to a plateau. It was higher up, but being so close to the sun, there was little snow. Pawing a cloven hoof at the thin layer, a few dry springs sprung up. Greedily he ate, and Haldir as well, both of which showing how thin the winter was stripping them. It was a very unassuming day. That’s how they usually start, unassuming and quiet. It was certainly though not going to continue that way for much longer. Haldir was the first to notice him. He had grown shaper in his skills as of late. The dark shadow in the snow, and curious smell drew him up. Large ear swivel under his growing crown. It was a strange creature, not in its look nor its features, but in its smell. It smelled like his bonded. A short snort of a signal, echoes through him, and to the silent world of the gold it rings out loud and clear. He did not want to be interrupted today. He did not want company or to play pretend. His bones were weary of their weight, and stomach growled to fiercly. Harks fall back and that crowned head finally lifts to look upon the intruder. Upon the ghost. His body, like ice over a lake freezes, and harks stand straight forward. Haldir feeling the change looks back confused, but the golden was in his own world now. A world far far away. It couldn’t be. It was some sort of a magic, a trick, a ghost. That horse was dead. Double dead. That land, that past, it did not exist. It was kept far away. The grey fathers, in the slight breeze brushed the nape of his neck, and the silent reminder of memories new and old crashed together, sending chills down his bones. Walls, protective and armed rose up around his weakness. This could not be. This was a lie. THAT UNICORN WAS DEAD. Long ago Oxy had drawn a nightmare from his memory in a cruel and vicious attack….but this memory was not cruel. It was happy, and loved, causing that golden to be even more guarded. It came from a time when he was very much a different creature. One Helovia would fail to recognize. But it had to be some sort of a trick it had too. That unicorn was dead. “What cruel attack is this?” His words spit out. They were distant though. Too rough for him, broken and disjointed. He should have been smoother. He should shake it off and lie. Be well controlled, and fine tuned. But this wasn’t planned. NEVER was this planned. And the hit was too close for him to shake it off. This wasn’t a lie, this was a worry, a fear….. …a hope? Dare he say a hope? That unicorn was dead. Elrond was dead. But how many moons had he wished he was not. Experience taught threat, but memories and wishes taught hope. His defense were already falling, his icey face, growing warm with the thought. A warmth it had not felt tingle its nerves for a long time. So the second word was very much different from the first, betraying him. “Elrond?” Wardrobe:: Wolf cape, satchel, pole arm, daggers, circlet Thranduil
His words are clever and bright
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