don't let them in.

[PRIVATE] don't let them in.

Kiuaji Posts: 40

Absent Abyss atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.2 :: 9 HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE

Matanye :: African Crowned Eagle :: None Nova

02-12-2016, 08:12 PM

Old nicknames, ah, how he'd felt at home hearing an old voice from an old friend, calling him 'Aji'. It took him back, to simpler times, times where there was no war in the beginning. Spare days were frittered away with ease and filled with fun, mischief abundant even when Tembovu had settled and the poisoner had not. Their momentum had never changed, until one day the world did. Times had turned hard, and with it so did hearts and minds turned to ice and stone. There were no easy days to be frittered away carelessly because they could, because there was no consequences in those simpler times, late nights and free days were then spent worried and tense.

Nicknames fell into being reserved for the most trying of times, when reserves were low and the stakes were high. Uttered with exhausted whispers and tightened chests, as though if they said them any louder they were daring to dream of the good times again, daring to wish for the impossible to come back from the grave. Nicknames became anchors to be lowered in the storms, lest the monsters that lurked in the tumultuous waves take them and swallow them whole.

To hear them be uttered with no storm clouds over head, Kiuaji could dare to let his mind wander once again.

Amethyst eyes glittered impassively down at the golden mare, brow raised when delicate ears swiveled backward at his words. Touched a nerve, perhaps? Interesting. The sleuth remained still, like a marble statue until Rexanna ushered to life two ghosts in one breath. Their spirited apparitions come to life and dance upon the ruined, slithering walls of his heart, the snakes retreated to their hiding spots in disgruntled droves, waiting until the memories had sang their song and returned to dust.

His tongue turned acidic in his mouth, he longed to hiss and snap at her that she doesn't have the right to speak of the two, but he refrained — it would be terribly out of character for him to do so, and his acidic infused quips had often earned the soft, slightly humored but firm one from Mara in return. For her memories sake, as it stepped on crumbled pillars and barren pools of his inner sanctum, he would play nice verbally, in order to not sour her spirit. His own ears take their turn to be pressed back against his skull, a momentary lapse in his serene facade before they press forward again. Matanye takes it as a sign that she should hunt once more, and with a shrill call she took wing, all elegant wing beats as she swirled around the mare and into the grove.

Kiuaji watched her go, knowing that she had removed herself for her own sake, and her companions. She would be back when she felt the storm simmer, she told him so, in the way their bond warmed his core for a moment.

"They died a long time ago, what more do you need to know?" He responded with an informed tone, head tilted to the side, the impressive, curled crowns upon his head swing their large bulk to catch the emerald light and be bathed by it. They had been bigger than most blessed with two horns back in Dorobo, their perfect curled formation drew many a compliment. This time, however, he displayed them with a hidden intent that they were dangerous, he was dangerous, and the game Rexanna was now playing was treading upon the fringes of a deadly path.

Was she willing to play such a dangerous came with the viper of dorobo, the shade that lurked within the empires own foreboding shadow of ruination? She continued, asking her question and inquiring as to why he had called her an apparition of Mara. He decided then and there, that if she truly wished to know, then she should have to play the game and work for the answers she sought — in whatever fashion Kiuaji chose to answer them in.

"Tell me, my dear Rexanna, truthfully." He began with smile, white lipped muzzle pulled into a half smile. Lithe frame shifted on his makeshift pedestal to better look at his fellow thief, she should feel privileged, he thought bitterly. Not just anyone made Kiuaji move to look at them. "Why do you wish to know? To be asking such questions, it would make any one with a brain question, what would a mare with another stallion's colt on her teats be doing probing into another stallion's past life."

"talk talk talk"

Some hearts are a desert you can die wandering in

Credits: Image by Littlewillow-Art @ DA

@Rexanna