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10-11-2013, 05:38 PM
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Do not pray for easy lives. Pray to be stronger men. The red-haired man leaves the stallion alone to contemplate what to do. Rather than keep staring at the pale apparition he focuses on his meal, calmly filling his gut with warm meat until nothing but the bones are left. Those he toss on the flames, in a silent tribute and thanks to the flickering fire for providing the heat and the nourishment. It was a habit, a reflex earned in younger, more peaceful days when the elders had told stories about the spirits of the world, how everything around them was alive and had to be respected. Maybe it was stupid to keep practicing a faith he had never quite understood, but somehow it made the stud feel less... alone. The thought that somewhere, in some part of the world, his family were doing the exact same thing brought comfort to the soul. The chirp of icy crystals compressing beneath a heavy weight made the centaur turn his head to his silent guest. It seemed the unicorn had decided to linger; it came padding towards him and settled on the other side of the pyre, wary yet curious; a mindset Kelec recognized very well. He offered a calming smile, in no hurry to break the silence that settled over them, as still and peaceful as the night. He amused himself instead with watching how the light of the fire danced over the snow, pushing and prodding shadows into a wild dance that turned the cold matter into glittering gems. It was calming, soothing; it was tempting to let sleep overwhelm him and drag him off into a deeper state of relaxation... but this was not the best place for it. He felt the gaze of the stranger like a pressure against the skin, heard the wind rush into quivering nostrils as his scent was taken in, measured, stored to memory. The chestnut would have done the same if he could, but his senses were weaker than the horse's, focused on different things. The eyesight was sharper to compensate for poor hearing, more focused, details appearing in greater clarity, and rather than a keen sense of smell his taste buds were greatly developed. And, of course, he was far more dexterous, what with the long arms and tactile fingers. It seemed, however, that the unicorn was blessed with a sixth sense, one that left the lefiri way behind and instilled a sense of awed envy once he realized what was going on. As the dark landscape around the two of them began to fade away he blinked, wondering whether he had actually fallen asleep; but the cold of the night was still there, and if he shifted his weight the sensation of hooves sinking into snow remained as well. "You... are very skilled" he breathed and turned slowly around on his hocks, mouth widening into an exhilarated grin as he took in the exquisite details of the illusion. Seeing himself appear among the trees actually startled the creature a bit; he flinched, hand reaching up to clutch around something behind the head - and grasped thin air as he remembered that he no longer carried his sword, that it was lost, stolen since many months. Containing a desire to lash out at the ghost visions the half-man frowned and turned the blue gaze between the unicorn and the growing host of centaurs, half suspicious, half curious and more than a little anguished over seeing creatures like himself.. for the first time in so very long. It took a bit of thinking, but after a while the expression of the bearded face softened in understanding. A question. A very peculiar way of communicating; it made him wonder why the horse didn't simply raise his voice and speak. Sighing softly he nodded that he understood. Lids fell down to cover the piercing gaze for a moment, and as he gathered his thoughts the deep voice of the fiery centaur filled the air, melodic and rhythmic in its strange accent. "Legends say that the centauri was born from a union of two races" he began, the odd body settling down with tattooed arms folding comfortably across the chest. "They were a branch of the elven kindred who preferred the open plains, the lush vales and the endless horizon; they were the four legged equines of the prairie, wild and untamed, horses of all shapes and sizes who ran like the wind across the oceans of grass. The two lived side by side, aided and treasured one another; their foals and young grew up as brothers and sisters, and they thrived." "It was then that a roaming mischievous god saw the life they lived and thought it a shame that the lives of the creatures were so different. And so he cast a spell over the two peoples, and when they awoke the next morning they had merged into one. Great was the horror and grief among the people at first, for they were two in one but the freedom for both seemed as though it had been stolen. The long lifespan of the elves had shortened, the shorter spans of the horse had been prolonged, and their bodies felt clumsy and monstrous. In their terror they waged war on themselves, men against men, women against women, and women against men. It nearly brought them all to ruin, and it would have ended in tragedy." "But once again the roaming god came by, and saw what his prank had done. And he regretted and made it so that the children of the first generation would be not two in one, but simply one. No longer would the soul of the horse and the spirit of the elf battle in the same body, but they would be a single entity. And so it was done, and with that followed peace. The remnants of the once great clans scattered across the world, small groups settling down in valleys and forests, on mountains and by seas. Some continued to wage war, for it had become a lifestyle for many; others chose a more peaceful road and laid down their weapons. The answer to your question, mellon, is that not even we know how many we are. In the vale I was born, Síochána Dál, we were a fairly large herd of around seventy... We also knew about two smaller settlements some distance away, that we had sporadic contact with, counting us to a rough total of one hundred and twenty. Beyond that, is only mystery." He grew silent and let the gaze drop thoughtfully towards the flames, where the wood slowly was beginning to run out. There was no more to find on the barren plain, and so it would soon be growing cold and dark; unless the pale horse was going to keep this extensive illusion up for the rest of the night. It seemed a pleasant thought, but somewhat implausible - surely it had to be tiring to keep so many things in mind at once.  |
