|
The hunter found himself suddenly entering an entirely different level of comprehension. Hearing the minds of his ancestors had been complex enough, but a new body is beyond strange. The new sensation of living in someone else's figure is strikingly uncomfortable. He sees with eyes that are not his own, walks with young, shaking legs that do not belong to him. The body of the long-dead buckskin colt Zsoka haunts the earth once more, treading for the first time upon the soil of a new land. It is as if he truly lives again through Knox.
It is almost easy to forget that it is all magic. Every detail is painted so perfectly, down to the chronic shaking of the colt's foreleg as he struggles to trot towards the edge of the foothills and towards his responsibility. Zsoka's childish mind mixes with Knox's coldly rational understanding of the world. Though the colt's affection may shine through, it is Knox's mind that controls this body now.
By the side of the buckskin is Manhattan, ever loyal to her master even as he sports magic from a Goddess that the mutt finds accursed and wretched. The bitch keeps her nose low as she leads Knox on through the afternoon shadows cast by the cold sun above. Her gaze flits back to Knox constantly, however; she cannot help her concern. Since the ending of the life of the mare in the marsh, her master has seemed saddened.
She cannot say that he has been more serious, for he is always serious, but perhaps more emotional. She notices with worry how often now he taps into the minds of his ancestors, as if to escape from his own. But today he has emerged from the shadow maze of complexity that is his consciousness. Happy to hear his thoughts once again, she stays close and lets her fur brush against the spindly legs of the colt he possesses.
Together, they arrive before the captive. The mare is noticeably pregnant, and even more noticeably enraged, but the hunter does not balk at the prospect of dealing with such a temper. In the form of a child, he knows instantly he must be more like-able. As many as he may have murdered, Zsoka's body is pure. In his eyes, there is only innocence.
"Sorry to have inconvenienced you, Adrixaura," Knox speaks in a child's voice to the mare. She is almost a complete stranger, it is odd to meet her now in such an intimate manner. He knows her through the Grey's intelligence alone. Does he truly know her well enough to convince her to stay? The colt's buttercream nose turns down to pick nervously at his chest as Zsoka's nervous twitches display. His ears twitch and his striking black eyes search for her gaze. The oversized bridle droops across his features, creating before the enraged devil's advocate an image of helplessness. And then, he continues to speak: "but I have a proposition for you."
His foreleg twitches rapidly, betraying the nervousness of young Zsoka that shines through Knox's confidence and rings clear in the voice that hintingly sounds older than it should. In uncomfortable silence he waits, doing all he can to focus his thoughts away from the body of the mare now rotting in the spectral marsh. Manhattan whines and presses her nose into his shaking leg, but her assurances were not enough then and they are not now. The expression in his eyes darkens with the thoughts of the stranger's death, but he forces them away and turns once again to speech. "The wilds are no place to raise a child. Even a mare such as yourself cannot protect a foal from the dangers of an outcast's life," he goes on with a careful tone, as if he is playing with fire. And then his focus narrows as Manhattan's thoughts creep into his own. Is this truly a good plan, she wonders?"But the Foothills can offer you a home."
Whether it is a good plan or not, it is too late to go back now.
[[Knox is currently using his shapeshifting magic so that he looks like Zsoka, whose appearance can be found on Knox's profile. Also, thanks about the stealth. <3 Now let's get some plots cooking! :P]]
KNOX and MANHATTAN
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[O] Evil Souls Fall To Hell, Ever Trapped In Burning Cells [Knox / Open]
