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05-21-2016, 02:47 PM
There is a lull in conversation after he speaks, and he settle easily into the silence. Zarina is settled sleepily in his mane, bored by the conversation and its topic. -- If you are so interested in the paintings, -- she yawns in his mind, -- then why don't you ask someone about them? -- He begins to explain that there isn't anyone around to ask, that these drawings may be hundreds or even thousands of years old, that there isn't anyone left that would know about them - but then she is asleep, tangled in the little nest that she has created in his mane. Quilyan smirks slightly, amused by his companion's lack of interest.
Still, he muses, she might have a point. Perhaps there was someone else that they could ask about the meaning of the drawings.
Bull mentions fresh air, turning towards the cave entrance; Quilyan follows in silence, his brow furrowed ever-so-slightly in thought. The pair wander through the labyrinthian caverns, past grasses and water and everything one could ever need to survive. In fact, the caves had helped Helovians to survive, though the stallion could not remember. Had Zarina been awake, she might have fed him her memories, allowed him to see through her eyes as the wraiths had appeared, driving all of Helovia underground. For now, though, the steed is oblivious, lost in his imaginings of magical beings and age-old secrets.
When the pair emerge from the caves, the prince is surprised by the freshness of the air. He had not realized how stale the caverns had been, nor how dark. It had been fitting, somehow, before, but Bull's conversation has revitalized some part of the steed, reminded him that there is more to life than the past (especially a past that he cannot remember). The gentle breeze of dawn ruffles his feathers, raising bumps along his back as he shakes off the chill. Birdsong, he thought to himself. When did that happen?
"Bull," he began after a moment, his voice distant, lost in thought. "How long have you stayed in the caves?"
"Speak."
--Zarina.--
Still, he muses, she might have a point. Perhaps there was someone else that they could ask about the meaning of the drawings.
Bull mentions fresh air, turning towards the cave entrance; Quilyan follows in silence, his brow furrowed ever-so-slightly in thought. The pair wander through the labyrinthian caverns, past grasses and water and everything one could ever need to survive. In fact, the caves had helped Helovians to survive, though the stallion could not remember. Had Zarina been awake, she might have fed him her memories, allowed him to see through her eyes as the wraiths had appeared, driving all of Helovia underground. For now, though, the steed is oblivious, lost in his imaginings of magical beings and age-old secrets.
When the pair emerge from the caves, the prince is surprised by the freshness of the air. He had not realized how stale the caverns had been, nor how dark. It had been fitting, somehow, before, but Bull's conversation has revitalized some part of the steed, reminded him that there is more to life than the past (especially a past that he cannot remember). The gentle breeze of dawn ruffles his feathers, raising bumps along his back as he shakes off the chill. Birdsong, he thought to himself. When did that happen?
"Bull," he began after a moment, his voice distant, lost in thought. "How long have you stayed in the caves?"
"Speak."
--Zarina.--
Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
@Chernobyl
Please tag Quilyan in all replies.
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
Use of force and/or magic (with the exception of death) is allowed at all times.
Want to plot with Quilyan? Visit his plot page here!
