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 |
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Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit
Bunnie |
"Duir," I answer, and he looks at the mare, his deep, emerald eyes almost glittering with the smile he lets alight on his face, to counter the scowl across my own. His tail flutters behind him in a sweeping motion, his ears lifted, and crown proud, as it always is. A simple image of peace, alongside the coiling visage of chaos unfurled.
Enna asks, at first, why I would assume she’d heard bad things of me. My head lifts, my ears fall even further backwards, and my nostrils curve wickedly as I suck in a breath of air, unwilling to tell someone like her anything of what I have done, or who I am. She almost glows with a halo of light, her heart is so pure; those sort, the kind whose lives have not fallen into dust, spread to the wind, don’t know the dark, and they won’t look into it, either.
They just walk away.
Even when she laughs I don’t feel the tension ease away, her voice trailing ahead, as if she hadn’t questioned a thing, as if she accepts me. It’s a fair enough game, I think, from behind the mask of Calor, of Dristan, or the Boy King wandering wild and free through the halls of winter, only who he wanted to be at that point in time.
But… that stone. It is cast by the moon-maned raincloud and strikes a line clean through the walls behind which I hide, and it seems like she knows just what the word is. Her fretful tilt of ear and crown, as she looks away, makes me wonder why it is everyone goes around, poking their horns into fetid wounds, when its quite plainly the wrong thing to do.
"She has her own path now," I refuse to say her name, wary of the repercussions, feeling my chest tighten with anger and regret and where has that path lead? despite my will to banish it to the fringes of my thoughts. That gold rimmed flake of ash dances through my dreams often enough, without Enna’s help, and there is a brittle, harsh coldness to the single statement I unfurl in mention of her that clearly states I will not talk of my sister anymore.
If she accepts it, who gives a shit, but she continues ahead anyway, this next question more pleasant to think about, even though it brings back other things, too. I think of Adelric, and how he’d come to the Basin in search of friends, and how we had both somehow wound up alone. I think of his sister, and of Arah’s twins, and I think of my mother, standing next to my father, as he worked on the Sentinels, and my blade-brother and I played nearby.
It hurts, as warm as it is here, and I almost don’t answer, simply walking away, to leave her with her questions, as the world so often left me. Yet, I think of Erebos, and I think of how this girl trails after him, and makes him look back sometimes, with a smile, rather than regret.
"He was as all children are before Huyana vanished; whole, innocent, and perfect for it. After she walked into that endless night? Much as he is now," I tell her, because it’s true; he’s always been a bit too somber, and always honorable and brave as any good knight, and he has always been my friend, "he used to laugh more, before what became of Arwen, and before Adelric never came home. Hell, before everyone left..."
The dark anger roars to life inside my chest, and condemns me. I shove it aside, and drown it out in a pool of pity and excuses. I will not be blamed for following my mother, who was the one who truly abandoned Helovia, after all. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my fault. It was hers.
"What’s different now is not so much Erebos," I add, "but Helovia."
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Image by Ghostly - Code by Tamme
@Enna
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Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).
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[P] sooner or later God will cut you down
