| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
It did not come as a surprise to the Impersonator when no voice answered him, reverberating with providence and echoing through the swells of cloud hanging low enough to stir with a tilt of his horn, but he was disappointed all the same. He sighed, a soft exhalation of breath that did nothing to disturb the peace around him. Now, seemingly, the Gods come and the Gods go, while mortals flicker and fade. World’s don’t last, and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. But he could pretend that there was more worth to the matter at hand, and maybe if he worked hard enough he could convince himself that there was hope, buried somewhere deep inside the chasm that had formed when the Gods had left Helovia.
At least the moon had returned to them now, and the ground was springing up with new life that thrived even in the darkness. Their condition was improving, with a frustratingly slow pace, but where Roland had once felt nothing but despair, he was beginning to grow confident that one day the sun would rise. And maybe then he would do something about the pit he had dug himself into. He cast one last rueful gaze towards the sky, swallowing down the belligerence and wrath he occasionally felt towards the beings who had once meant everything to him.
But he was preoccupied not only by this curse of an endless night; war, from two sides, had been shoved unceremoniously into his face and he had been given the chance to fight for the honour of his family and the icy throne they sat upon. Yet like a coward he had shied from the opportunity as if even entertaining the idea of it caused him great pain. Guilt had shoved itself into his heart like a knife; guilt for staying behind while the warriors had filed from the barren corral of the valley, guilt for leaving his home and launching himself into unfamiliar territory just to get a breath of air that didn’t swim with the scent of cold and corruption. He had once been proud of his title and home, but he was slowly beginning to feel them as a burden to be choked down and hidden away. Where had the purpose he had once been filled with crept away to? He enjoyed being a part of something, and wasn’t bound to leave the Basin behind in the near future for his courage was fragile and fleeting, and his willingness to adventure had long since waned. But he missed the easiness with which he had once lived his life.
Then suddenly, a voice tore its way into his thoughts and pulled his gaze from the distance, muscles flinching in surprise. The approaching creature seemed to be something of a ghost, and so Roland, uncharacteristically comfortable in the unfamiliar sprawl of grass, drunk on the light of stars and the liquid movement of mist around him, simply arched a brow in silent inquisition. The words flowing from her lips with a lilting cadence were not of the usual greeting he came to anticipate upon meeting a new face, but a rhyming verse that related nothing to him, or, as far as he could see, the current situation they found themselves in.
Even though he had initially been startled, Roland turned to look directly upon the mare with a strange feeling of equanimity. He knew she was unfamiliar, but he would stow away any suspicions for the time being and allow easy conversation to pass between them without hidden doubts and furtive glances. If she was in fact going to speak eventually, rather than continue to serenade him amidst a wave of white flowers. As she neared, he noticed the lingering smell of ice and mountain winds tangled in the curls of her mane, and couldn’t help but recoil slightly. Was he being followed, or was this a mere coincidence? Perhaps he should count himself lucky that a herd mate had stumbled upon him in place of a hornless.
After a few breaths of silence, the mare began to sing again, filling the air with a myriad of notes in place of the conspiratorial whisper of the breeze. Roland’s eyebrows shot up somewhere around the ozone layer. He didn’t bother to hide his confusion, tilting his head to the side and waiting patiently until she had finished. “You have a lovely voice,” he remarked at first, the comment somehow coming out as dry and emotionless even if he had meant to be sincere. He chased the words with a false smile and chivalrous bow, tilting his chin to his chest before leveling his gaze on the startlingly small mare. “I am Roland, Impersonator of the Basin.”
Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.
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Image Credit
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