His emotions were tucked away, stored in a dusty chest with a lock keeping it shut. Then, the chest locked in a closet somewhere deep within his mind, a place he dares not go. Emotions, he has learned, are very dangerous. Rexanna has put him through hell and back, and if mental pain were physical, he'd be the bloodiest horse around. Enna has also dealt a good share, but in different ways. Still, he can't really be mad at them, not when he is the common element in these stories. In away, his haunted thoughts are painful. Henrietta often whimpers of what must be something like a headache when Caleb is at his worsts, when he lets himself feel the guilt and sadness, and all of it. Without Henrietta, Caleb would slowly sink into oblivion.
Tired silver eyes peer ahead, noticing a dark shadow-like form moving across the white of the melting snow. Caleb slinks forward, head low, nostrils taking in the ground's scent with each inhale. Henrietta drags behind, finding interest in the smallest things and stopping to look, to watch. With each step closer, something new about the shape is revealing. Wingless horse. Unicorn. Darkly colored. Mare. Sialia. She is the black warrior mare from the meeting. She appears to be on patrol, and Calebs sees no harm in joining. Four eyes (counting Henriette, eight) is better than two.
"Corporal," he greets with a respectful dip of his large and blocky skull as he places himself hopefully beside her and attempts to match her pace. "To alert you of my recent patrol findings, up by the border I, along with two others, dealt with a Yeti." Words are stern, this a mere report and nothing else, there is nothing to his words but the deep tenor of his voice and the possible twinge of an Italian twang. "Have the other warriors noticed anything peculiar in their finding?" His question is eager, this can be a short conversation, as it seems Sialia has already been tasked with patrolling, and she must not desire to be bothered and nagged by these basic questions. Still, these questions must be met and asked. Caleb, in his time patrolling, had not run into one other patroller, and the thought was disturbing. Someone could be invading and the Basin would be underprepared due to the rest of the warriors slacking. Henrietta picks up a sort of dog-canter and moves ahead of the pair, sniffing around for unfamiliar scents, anything unusual. She is the smell and the horses are the sight.
To Caleb, patrolling in the brisk night air with not an entire crowd of horses is soothing and relaxing, as if this is the only place in the twisted world he truly fits in. Though, the other day he did pretend to be a Wise One slash Therapist. That turned out semi-bad... Let's just say that Caleb is not cut out to give others advice when his own life is falling apart piece by piece, littered into the wind like tiny pieces of ripped paper.
"blah blah blah."
ooc: yeti thread not finished, probably be a good idea not to ask questions about it as i wont have any answers yet XD
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[O] Wiggle Your Toes, With Black Mambo's [PATROL]
