He'd been a part of the Edge once, though now it seems ages ago. In certain regard it almost felt like a different lifetime. The truth is that he left the Edge around two and a half years ago which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn't long ago at all. Miykael is far from young, though his age shows more in his soul than anywhere else. At eleven years old (this time), he certainly isn't elderly by any stretch of the imagination but he isn't youthful anymore either. He appears worn, less physically bright than he'd been only two years ago. The constant wandering and the stress over losing Merialeth has beaten the sunshine right out of him - the light in his soul dimming and fading away like the flame being smothered beneath a glass. His outward appearance, as usual, does very little to hide the weariness of his heart and soul. Ever the open book, this one.
It comes as little surprise to find him wandering about the depths of Helovia. Never one to be tied down for long, Miykael simply cannot cease his dreadful pacing - the endless search for the wounded (though, perhaps, secretly he searches for but one face to save). He can't shake the feeling that she is out there somewhere, possibly injured or in danger. And perhaps he is driven by his past failures as a father but he simply cannot fail in this. He has to find her. He must. Without her, his family and his heart will never be complete. Yet even with that particular pressure, and the throbbing pain her disappearance has left in his heart, his recent wanderings haven't taken him very far from December. Ever since his bright blue eyes noticed the familiar roundness of her sides he wanted to stay nearer to her; his determination to be a better partner and a better father fully overwhelming his desire to heal the world (and hunt down Merialeth to bring her back home).
So as December rested, her fuller figure bringing an unabashedly delighted grin onto his face, the stallion tucked his practically oversized white wings and wandered off into the forest. It takes little time for the golden angel to find some creature with an open wound or a bird with an injured wing - all, of course, easily fixable with his particular brand of healing magic. It didn't matter that using it harmed him. It never mattered that he, in some small way, took a part of their pain into himself. He'd likely say he earned it, that he deserved the punishment. Who's to say he's wrong? Or right? The deep forest with its' many trees, is a home to many creatures and rather easily turned into his favorite place to exercise his healing magic.
As absorbed as he was in healing a rather disgruntled little beaver, he was suddenly aware that he wasn't alone. It was a simple gut feeling, a strange tingling sensation up his spine and this odd gnawing sort of alertness in the back of his skull. He almost ignores it but then his child-like hope overrides his better judgment and he lifts his blue gaze to search around him. At first his eyes spy nothing at all, causing his heart to sink and his entire body to appear to droop. That's when he sees her, the dark mare with the vivid teal accents. Teal... like Naerys' eyes. No matter where he turns, he's simply reminded of his own failures. Each one hitting him like a slap to the face though he never seems to recoil, instead each slap hits him full force. Sighing softly, he moves towards her at a leisurely pace and offers a tender, welcoming smile. "Hello" he calls to her, his deep voice cheerful despite the tired lines creasing his face. "Mind if I join you? I'm Miykael."
And if you close your eyes,
Does it almost feel like
You've been here before? |
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![[Image: mikey_by_moonstone_designs-d9dgnba.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/51ca/f/2015/290/e/5/mikey_by_moonstone_designs-d9dgnba.png)
