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05-19-2013, 11:29 AM
 You're busy dying if you're living in the past
Even as the mare regarded him with her own uncertainty, Crowley couldn't pull the awestruck expression from his face. It wasn't a look that normally wound it's way onto his features, but somehow, this pale, almost ghostly figure of a mare had managed to simply show up and send him into a stupor. Was he finally going crazy? Was the endless white of the snow getting to him? With a mental shake of his head, he forced himself to focus and locked his golden eyes upon the mare's blue ones. That icy gaze was foreign to him, yet so familiar. Could it really be the same filly he'd sworn to watch over all those years ago, when he'd been but a bachelor in Etaine? Although it had only been roughly four years since his departure, or escape more or less, it had seemed like a lifetime ago that he had called Etaine home. Surely if this was her, they would not have fled to the very same land, in the very same mountain range... However, much to his surprise, she claimed that her name was, indeed, Kou. Crowley knew without a doubt that this wasn't his mind playing tricks and making names up on the fly. More names flew into his mind in a rush; Rigo. Marionette. It nearly pained him as all these memories suddenly whirl-winded into his mind all at once, memories that he'd long since suppressed and figured better left forgotten. Remembering himself, the Weaver drew in a deep breath and momentarily averted his gaze from the young mare. Could this really be Kou? If it was, would she even remember him? She had been young when they had first met, and separated shortly after that. There was much more in between, of course, but Crowley was doing his best to keep his mind on the here and now of things rather than the past. Surely he wouldn't need to elaborate too much if this was truly her. "... My name is Crowley," he finally spoke up, shifting his piercing gaze back onto the alabaster mare, "I believe I was friends with your father. But if I am mistaking you for somebody else, please forgive me." |
The Weaver's Workshop
HP: 45
