so i cover my eyes

so i cover my eyes

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549

Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT

Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie

05-04-2016, 11:14 AM

The Threshold is a good place to overhear a few things that, hopefully, no one will be that mad about me hearing. Who talks about deep shit in a place like this? All I’ve ever heard are peoples’ names and pompous descriptions of herd values and assets, the occasional tearful “I’ve missed you!” or crossly demanded, “where have you been?!” breaking what would otherwise be a monotonous show. Besides, the trees are tall and broad, easy to slip behind, the approach of spring bringing life to the naked branches in small green splashes. The birds chirp, the deer rustle away with rabbits scurrying in the brush, a thousand small noises to cover my own across the silent, moss riddled ground. My nose and ears seek through the distraction of the wilderness, so green, so tempting in my youth (the urge to run burning strong through me), utilizing the amplified emotions I feel after the long breadth of this Frostfall and its breaking to fuel the eagerness with which I prowl.

So, it’s with some measure of surprise that one particular nearby scent draws me closer, to come to a shocked stand still in the shadow.

Is that… Glacia?

Why is she so thin?

The stranger with her is a pretty bauble in the blur of the background as I feel my eyes hone in on her, remembering her so clearly in my head as broadly pregnant. She had not been this shade of herself at all. A rarely felt concern folds my brows down as the delight of my game of Spy falls to shambles at the sight of her haggard pelt, once glistening like snow dusted obsidian, now limp and coarse, almost like the burlap satchel father had made me all those long seasons ago laying across her bones.

The shadow abandoned, I reveal myself, coming to stand alongside Glacia, all covered in the marks from my fight with Volterra, the most obvious being the thick, scabbed ridges of the wound on my right hip, where his dragon had clenched down with its insidious fangs. I wear these marks like badges, evident in the confident pace with which I enter the scene.

She said she’s from the World’s Edge just before I stepped out. Any other time, I’d ask if she’d seen my dad. All I can think right now is to ask her if she’s okay; the presence of the gold trimmed raven stills my womanly concern. I grew up with Glacia, and really owe her an apology if she’s had a dead kid or something (considering I had made fun of her for being pregnant in the first place), but I don’t know the hybrid at all. I’m not the sort of guy to go around sounding like some bleeding heart in front of strange women.

"Glacia," I greet with a nod, my tenor voice breaking ever so slightly. I gruffly clear my throat, tearing my glistening gaze from her to the stranger. I feel like I have seen her somewhere, but can’t quite place it. Maybe she’s not as new as she seems, I think.

"I’m Rikyn," I say, having lost all motivation to be the crafty master of disguises in the depressing state of the once bouncy girl next to me, "of no where, currently."