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06-20-2013, 11:26 AM
Helovia was a hard nut to crack, and harder yet to sum up in a way that would make sense to a newcomer. How could you describe eons of history, history that he only had a vague inkling of, or the wonders of magic, of soul-bonds to companions, the fearsome wrath of gods and yet the tenderness some of them showed from time to time? How could you tell the nuances of a land, when it felt like you were describing colors the other had no way of comprehending, something they had never seen? Some came here ragged vagabonds driven from their old homes, some scorned princes or failed generals of war, some simply wandered, some.. he didn't even know. He'd seen so much come in through these trees, every one with a different story.
A harsh, snorted laughter filled the brief space where Kodiak trailed off, touching upon the subject of the Basin. Xenophobic, indeed. He was just here talking politely to an equine, wasn't he? The surge of bitterness faded, and the grin that replaced it was wan and weary. Mauja was used to such comments, such conclusions, and would not slaughter anyone over the accusations – sometimes he felt like a tired old parent correcting unruly, misinformed kids all the time, but if he didn't, they'd waltz around Helovia with their misinformed notions. And hell would come around much sooner. It was a saddening conclusion Kodiak came to, in Mauja's opinion, that he would rather go to the Edge than some other place. Heck, he'd even prefer him in the Throat under Kri, simply because the Qian was such a sore spot in his life, like a bruise that refused to fade. And the question of Gods... his black-rimmed ears flickered, and he wondered if he should spew out all the vitriol, but he kept it inside. "The God of Time and Spark is the patron of my Basin," he said wearily, shuddering with the memory of nothingness swallowing him up. What kind of lesson had Time wanted to teach him? Or had he simply wanted to leave Psyche alone in charge, for whatever reason? Mauja still wasn't sure he'd learned anything at all. "Though there's no love lost between us." Again, he shrugged midstep, easily leading the way east. "And I often wonder what past experience lead others to automatically assume we are xenophobic, or as most say around here, racist. Is it something inherently bad in wanting to live with your own kind?" A question, but he didn't pause for an answer. "I once followed the Moon, but I'm afraid there's no love lost there either. So now, I follow no one in particular." And maybe he was better off that way. |
