.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
08-09-2015, 07:14 PM
Rainbow Liars
Do not make of me a liar
when I'm nothing but a youthful priest
a follower, of something too devout
for me to name.
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
Lochan was becoming too big to rest inside Ashamin's sarong. The Haruspex was bent forward with the weight on his chest, the little black body tugging on the back of his neck and pulling his nose to the ground. Someday Ashamin would have the heart to make the creature walk or stay behind when morning came, but for now the cerndyr could have his rest.
It was morning, and so the pair had spent the night awake and would normally shut their eyes as a duo, now. But though Lochan stayed true to a nocturnal lifestyle, Ashamin often dabbled in the diurnal light of day, as he did now. They had reached the rotunda with heavy, tired hearts--Ashamin had nudged the cerndyr to rest on the snow-less stone and give his own back some rest.
And though Lochan had protested with little brays and chuffs, he had eventually obeyed. And so now Ashamin stood, an awake protector, his drooping eyes watching the sun as it rose higher and higher in the sky.
The haruspex hadn't expected to find anyone else at all, let alone a creature as desperate as this. But then, the mare arrived. She seemed frantic as she rushed into the rotunda's wide umbrella, as if here the cold would be banished from her life. He himself was no enemy of the cold. He had come here for another reason: in the hopes he might find something of value in that rainbow canopy. Something well... religious, in its fervor. And there had been a pleasure in the quiet, too. His own cave was now underscored by the crackling of a fire, and the blank silver of its mirror, so cryptic with its sporadic messages, were taunting.
Whatever she was here for, he was thankful for the company. The quiet had proven to be no escape, no religious experience--just another platform on which his grief could shine.
"You are not alone, stranger," he called out from the shadow, stepping forth and letting the glass overhead paint his white in a rainbow of hues. His long tail swayed behind him before dropping to the ground and sending a few small sparks over the surface of the rotunda's floor. Behind him, Lochan grunted softly in his sleep. "There is no need for distress."
There wasn't, was there? Or was he a liar, too?
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.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
