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06-17-2016, 02:45 PM
"No."
His reply is quick, clipped, and hard. Time alone is not without it's dangers, but it is not more dangerous. It is, he thinks, not that dangerous at all. Bot physically at least. How easy is it to measure the dangers of the mind against the dangers to the body? He does not try. He focuses instead on what is simple, visible. It is the invisible that he will eventually be called to answer for but for now he chooses to ignore that, push it aside.
Seanan does follow though, a ghostly shadow behind the smaller painted stallion. He shortens his strides, steps mincing so that the distance between them is maintained. He would have to take a full stride to be within reach and the Clovenheart- Ashamin- would have to back up or turn to reach him. He is jealous of his space, and the closeness of the trees bothers him. While he listens to the other speak he cannot quite keep his attention from the close crowding wooden bodies. Once he lashes out with a single hind hoof, scarring the bark of one trunk. It did little to make him feel better, but it was better than doing nothing.
"I have not been here long." His reply is calmer now that they are moving though, as if the simple act of locomotion is enough to give his nerves some passage, beaten out into the ground beneath his pale hooves. "I have never lived in a place where it rains so much. Nor where the trees grow so thick."
He eyes one such tree as if it might creep closer, eyes briefly rolling to flash white again. But on the whole his face has regained some expression of sanity, if still threaded with paranoia and suspicion. The comment about herds catches his attention again and his ears lift slightly from his skull, curious. "Is that how you think of a herd, Ashamin?"
The stranger's name feels strange on his lips and for a moment he regrets saying it. Perhaps like the distance he keeps between them, avoiding his name would prevent closeness. Still, the word is in the wind (or at least, it is in the water), and cannot be retrieved.
His reply is quick, clipped, and hard. Time alone is not without it's dangers, but it is not more dangerous. It is, he thinks, not that dangerous at all. Bot physically at least. How easy is it to measure the dangers of the mind against the dangers to the body? He does not try. He focuses instead on what is simple, visible. It is the invisible that he will eventually be called to answer for but for now he chooses to ignore that, push it aside.
Seanan does follow though, a ghostly shadow behind the smaller painted stallion. He shortens his strides, steps mincing so that the distance between them is maintained. He would have to take a full stride to be within reach and the Clovenheart- Ashamin- would have to back up or turn to reach him. He is jealous of his space, and the closeness of the trees bothers him. While he listens to the other speak he cannot quite keep his attention from the close crowding wooden bodies. Once he lashes out with a single hind hoof, scarring the bark of one trunk. It did little to make him feel better, but it was better than doing nothing.
"I have not been here long." His reply is calmer now that they are moving though, as if the simple act of locomotion is enough to give his nerves some passage, beaten out into the ground beneath his pale hooves. "I have never lived in a place where it rains so much. Nor where the trees grow so thick."
He eyes one such tree as if it might creep closer, eyes briefly rolling to flash white again. But on the whole his face has regained some expression of sanity, if still threaded with paranoia and suspicion. The comment about herds catches his attention again and his ears lift slightly from his skull, curious. "Is that how you think of a herd, Ashamin?"
The stranger's name feels strange on his lips and for a moment he regrets saying it. Perhaps like the distance he keeps between them, avoiding his name would prevent closeness. Still, the word is in the wind (or at least, it is in the water), and cannot be retrieved.
All interactions are go, short of death and permanent crippling.
