the Rift


[OPEN] Insignificance

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#1

        He remembers this place.

        The roaring comes back to him first: the noise of a great wind or a sleepless beast, unceasing, from behind the trees. He turned away from it before; he stares in that direction now, with trees casting strange shadows over his flanks and a cold sun bearing down on him. Today, no stranger breaks the trees to catch Caneo’s attention; today, he is alone with the creaky voices of the strange pale birds and the grasping fingers of the breeze.

        The sand reminds him of home, but even so pools softly around his cloven hooves. He ventures forward with long, slow strides; caution wins, every time, against his curiosity – but still he goes. Like a trembling ghost he wavers through the trees, through the shadows, and down onto the open space beyond.

        For a long time, Caneo is still. He stands between the dunes and a writhing expanse of blue, his head up, his huge eyes a perfect complement to the waves. But elsewhere, from his nose to the tip of his tail, a brittle rigidity clings to his muscles – like marble – like ice. He stares for a long time, unblinking, and only the quick, nervous flex of his ribs betrays a single breath drawn in.

        The air tastes bitter here. The sky is bleeding down onto the sand into a pool so big it swallows up the edges of the world. Something about it all strikes the boy as terribly wrong, and the feral trembling of his limbs gives away the instinct to run, run away, be gone from it all. His mind moves in slow, deliberate coils as it tries to swallow the sight.

        He has never seen so much water.

        It feels like a dream – an awful dream – and his head moves with a jerk to bring his cold attention down the sand, the empty sand, where the seabirds play carelessly under a pale sky. No one is coming; no one is here – not close enough to be a threat. Yet. He breathes out a long, shivering breath and his tail writhes as he steps forward and stops, staring again at the waves. Fear crumbles slowly into concern, into wonder, and his long neck snakes out ahead of his narrow body. Blackened nostrils bare pink as he sucks in air again, and it tastes awful, and he thinks the water must be poisoned. His toes dance deliberately in that direction, anyway. He seems unable to leave any corner of the map a mystery; he wants to feel this place out, too, and record it.

        He pauses just above a patch of wet sand where the waves lapped minutes ago. They seem to be receding now; he watches them with pricked ears, tilted head, and eyes more thoughtful than they often seem. “What is this?” Quietly, a question for himself and no one else, a puzzle to turn over in his mind while he waits – for whatever it is Caneo waits for. He is content to watch, now. He has never been a creature of great purpose.

sxc.hu


@[Roland]
@[Zünden]
anyone else is welcome :)

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#2

when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see


Solid ground is finally beneath his feet once more. Gone are the sensations of floating, hovering upon an edge, not quite lost to the influence of gravity nor tethered to the earth below. Roland had peered far too many times over the fringes of Caela Insula and questioned the gaping distance between its foundations and the shrouded land that sprawled beneath its core. Now he could dig his hooves into soil and sand without fear of slipping through, carving too deep into the planet’s flesh. Devout as he was, the Thief held no confidence in the practice of magic, and whatever wizardry had suspended the island in the sky was beyond his comprehension.

He might have liked to stay longer, if the idea of abandoning his home for so long had not filled him with unease. Autumn was present upon every frosted breeze, ingrained in the brittle sound of falling leaves, the flight paths of birds, slicing through the cold morning air like an arrowhead as they journeyed southwards. Occasionally Roland wished he could follow them, escape the ice and snow he knew lay in wait just around the corner, desert the threat of frostbite and blizzards; but he would survive this Frostfall, just as he had the last.

There had been a number of troubling matters on his mind as of late. In an attempt to sort through his thoughts, he had decided to take the long route home, but in doing so he had never expected to stumble- quite literally- upon the answer to one of his most unsettling concerns.

It had been a while, but there was no mistaking the ragged, sterling hide of the creature standing before him, or the electric blue of its inquisitive gaze. The boy had never strayed far from Roland’s mind. He had kept an eye out for him in the Basin, hoping to find him healing, strengthening, carving out a space for himself amidst all the rock and ice. When the seasons had changed and there had still been no sign of him amongst the Basin’s desolate halls, the Thief had begun to lose hope; feared that Caneo might have strayed beyond their borders like Sia, lost to the darkness and the labyrinthine corridors of the snowy north, and that all his greatest efforts to recover the wayward had slipped away from him like handfuls of ash.

Despite the initial pang of concern, the urge to demand where the boy had been, and why he’d hidden himself away all this time where Roland could not find him, he smiled. It seemed apparent that no harm had come to Caneo, and the relief at knowing he was alive and well drowned out the confusion at having been left behind without a farewell. The Thief did not catch the silver’s question murmured to the salty air, but the curiousity was evident enough in the tense lines of his frame. With an amused smirk, Roland looked out to the stormy sea and watched the waves roll in across the gray beach. “Have you never seen the ocean?

It was a vast and perplexing expanse, lurking on the edges of their land. The curve of the horizon was visible in the distance, cutting across the dark underbelly of the clouds until it slipped out of view behind the far-flung cliffs, stretching ever onward. Roland wondered where it led. He had heard stories during the war, told by their allies from the north who lived upon towering spires of rock that rose from the ocean. They had spoken of the salty winds and the voice of the sea, how the seabirds clung like insects to the uneven cliffs of their home and gathered oyster shells and fish fins for their nests.

Did you forget to say goodbye?” Roland questioned then, abandoning the unnecessary niceties to approach the heart of the matter instead. There was an air of chastising to his voice, beneath the teasing, but the fond glance he slanted towards the boy only spoke of forgiveness. He knew all too well that herd life took some getting used to. Even after all these years, he is struck from time to time by the impulse to leave it behind, sever ties with what friends he has made and return to a life without responsibility, no longer reduced to the role of being another well oiled part in the machines of commerce and industry. If that was not the life Caneo wanted for himself, then the Thief would understand.

Image Credit


Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#3

        A distant memory stirs on the sand – a flickering like flame blown by the sea wind, red mane curling against a sinuous neck. Slowly, Caneo’s eyes lift from the water and meet the dappled stallion’s hide. Recognition glitters in those eyes, brilliant and sharp, joyful and terrified all at once. He draws straight up, a statue cut from fine veins of rigid silver, and his ears twitch as the question answers his own – not directly but nearly enough.

        Almost coldly, the lost child regards the thief. “Roland.” The word is a murmur for all he wants to shout; his throat constricts over the syllables, squeezing his voice down, muting the smallest flicker of emotion. This man insists somehow upon appearing when Caneo is most lost; he floats in with gentle eyes, his voice like that of a teacher. It puts the boy’s hackles up; he wonders why again with a terrible urgency. Instead of asking, though, Caneo blinks at the ocean with slitted eyes. “What’s wrong with it?” he asks, answering the inquiry obliquely, stubborn perhaps or just nervous. His nostrils flutter, baring raw pink insides. There is too much and it smells wrong. Something of his expression is akin to disgust.

        They stand in silence then, momentarily, and Caneo is reminded of another man who walked beside him once but towered much higher and spoke with a voice like rocks falling. The silver boy is too old now to follow like a wounded duckling and yet too young to understand just what it is he wants from anyone, Roland perhaps most of all. He studies the turning of the waves, and the tip of his tail moves rhythmically in answer to the surf. It is strange; it is all too strange.

        And Roland speaks again.

        Caneo expected this. He has been gone from the north too long, though a part of him wonders why anyone might miss the ghostly creature without skill or loyalty or drive. How many even knew his name? He glances at Roland again, quietly. He thinks of turning and walking away – again withholding his goodbye. He has no answer for the things he does, no reason and no charted course. “I couldn’t find you,” he says at last, lying with so little effort it seems he expects the thief to know. His voice is dull; weary. Caneo is a creature weighted with distraction and yet unable to confess his thoughts. He feels half prepared to climb out of his own skin.

        With a small jerk, his head lifts up and he blinks, as if a thought has occurred to him. When he speaks, though, he does it in the same gentle monotone. “No one in the Aurora Basin is like me.” He thinks of the needling mare with the scent of frost and pine on her skin; he thinks of Deimos, that dark lord; and he wonders if even Lena shone as brightly as she pretended. He is better off alone, perhaps. It scours him clean, the loneliness – it leaves him vulnerable only to a familiar hurt. And yet... he peers into the wind and feels glad Roland is here.

        He doesn’t know why.

sxc.hu

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#4

when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see


The cold reception was unexpected, to say the least. No matter how subdued the reaction was, something in the boy’s face radiated indifference as he turned to regard the approaching figure, a bitterness in his gaze that was then focused upon the ocean before it had the chance to stop Roland in his tracks. The Thief tried not to be bothered by it, though he couldn’t help wondering if he should have left Caneo alone. Perhaps he wanted nothing to do with the Basin and its citizens. The silence was not suffocated by ecstatic greetings or useless platitudes; instead Roland heard his own name murmured in the boy’s familiar voice, and for all he grasped at any hint of emotion to be found in those few syllables, there was none.

He was rewarded with little time to contemplate the boy’s reaction before another question fell into the tense space between them. Roland did his best to hold back a smile as he watched the boy narrow his eyes, fixing a suspicious gaze upon the water as it swept along the beach, stirring shells and seaweed in its wake. The Thief curled his tail against his hocks, stepping forwards as he turned to watch the waves roll up towards them and tumble backwards in a white blur of sea foam. “Nothing,” he responded, amused. “The ocean is full of salt. Some believe its waters to be very pure.

Do not drink it, he doesn’t add. Any creature that has stumbled across the sea has tasted it, to sate their curiousity. But regardless of how pure it was thought to be, it was no healing elixir. The rhythmic hiss of waves over sand was soothing though, and it was enough to distract Roland as he stood in contemplative silence at the boy’s side, looking out to the horizon and the dark smudges of gulls as they wheeled through the air. The wind tugged at his mane, sea spray chilling his legs.

An excuse, not entirely unexpected, tumbled quietly from the boy’s lips, and whether it was the truth or not, Roland didn’t have the energy to investigate. He had no business in Caneo’s life or decisions, even if he would be pleased to have the chance to know him better. So he did not pry, simply nodding in acceptance as he studied the sand that crumbled wetly around the edges of his hooves.

It pained Roland to hear the confession that followed, knowing how strongly that sentiment was echoed within his own heart. A feeling of estrangement had always accompanied him in the Basin. He did not fit in with the war hardened soldiers, nor could he ever find a place amongst the benevolent healers and scholars. Roland was not wholly good, not pure or absolved of sin. He was stained. Guilt and remorse weighed heavily upon him every day, and he has never taken a life like some, but he has played with and altered far too many. Those that had grown close to him might find him to be kind, perhaps even reliable, but he doubted his capacity for such virtues. The best way to fool others was to also fool yourself, and yet even if Roland had come to believe he could be better than what his past had defined him to be, he knew he would never be rid of those scars. A storm of lies and deceit followed in his path, and even if he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

Roland thinks they might have more in common than he’d realized at first. But Caneo is better. He is still young, and even if the Thief knows nothing of the boy’s past, he is an innocent in comparison to the things Roland is responsible for. He would like to believe that, at least.

I’ll be sorry to see you go,” he admitted quietly, withholding any tribulation from his voice. Never mind that he seems to have bad luck with new recruits. “But if you are not happy in the Basin, then you will find better things out there.” The Thief was certain of it. He glanced over his shoulder, back the way he came, where the sparse grasses bent against the breeze and his own hoof prints left deep marks in the sand. “Do you know where you will go?

Image Credit


NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#5
Down along the beach alongside the softly swooning blue water, a figure rests her head against the sand.

A seal, you may think at first, perhaps dead. It is still and almost lifeless, but there is breath in her lungs, slowly pushing the velvet coated ribs of the animal in and out, in and out. Whatever she is, she is sleeping on the shore, gathering her strength for the transformation that takes her from time to time when the waves usher her inland, trap her on the sands and beneath the Sun that glimmers so high above.

Pale, pale green eyes flicker open, pudgy nose crinkling as it wiggles loose the particles of grit that have sealed to it as she dried from her expulsion from the sea; the mouth stretches wide in a yawn, the red flesh gleaming with wetness, and a hand slips forth from the throat of the beast and reaches out to grab one side of the seal’s face, and then another to clutch the other.

The hands pull inward, and the mouth of the seal broadens and stretches until a silvery haired head appears, the face round and marked with two forward facing eyes, an angular nose with two slits for breath and a pair of lips succulent and pink on the pale, white flesh of the being that emerges from her sea form.

Before long, a nude figure sits alongside the empty pelt of a seal, her white skin dimpling in the cool breeze that ushers down the shoreline and her chrome scaled legs shining and glorious as she stretches them to dig ten toes into the sand. A delicate hand reaches to tuck her hair behind pointed ears, the sides of her face lined in the same pale blue toned and shining scales as her legs, eyes broad and innocent as a young fawn caught in its first summer.

But it is not summer, she thinks, turning herself where she sits to look at the autumn tinged grasses that line the sea, the red boughs beyond, and as she tilts herself to look more fully down the length of the beach, she notes that she has washed up somewhere entirely without use to her.

It is not an elf that stands waiting for her, but two unicorns. A damp brow rises on her face as the ample figured selkie rises to her feet, awkwardly at first – it has been nearly fifteen years since she has used them – the wind catching her wet hair and drawing it streaming behind her, a long banner of silver hair that, when still, rests below her hips. Her pale, pale green eyes hold the two in her sight as she makes her way towards them, the sand clinging to the lower part of her legs and pleasantly warm compared to the water she had been tossed out of.

A wonder filters through her mind if the beasts can speak, as they did in other lands she had come ashore in throughout her many years of life; there were just as many places where the beasts were mute and stupid, and she has not arrived in enough time to hear or catch the words that are passing between the unicorns now.

She only knows that it is a wasted transformation if there are no elvenfolk here to bestow her with their seed.

”You there,” she calls from several yards distance, her voice so soft and gritty from years of disuse, flowing and full of wisdom as the sea which has raised her, ”what land is this?”

A five fingered hand rests upon her wide hips, a demanding posture for one facing two creatures so much larger than she and adorned with horns - but she has tricks of her own, as do all of her kind.

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#6

        The water is pure. Caneo’s ears tilt back as doubt chases trust through his mind. He thinks briefly of dry lakebeds, of white dust hanging in the air. Perhaps those places were like this ocean, once. Perhaps Helovia is what a kingdom looks like in good health.

        Perhaps that is why he feels so out of place.

        He is quiet still as Roland speaks. A small part of him enjoys the low noise of the thief’s voice, but the words themselves... Did Caneo wish to hear something different? Some plea, or a demand? He turns slowly to blink at the older stallion once more, his expression blank, his blue eyes empty as the sky has ever been, emptier by far than the sea roaring in the background. “I am not happy,” he agrees, but he knows of nowhere to find such a feeling. Perhaps he knew joy when he first arrived. He certainly knew hope, at least – but time has seen it wither and he knows of no way to serve a herd, no way to find joy in the company of those like him – and not.

        Roland asks a question, and Caneo answers with a brief shake of his narrow head. “No.” He has never known where he is going – where he wants to go. “I’m used to wandering,” he adds, admitting briefly to his life before, the only life he’s ever really known. His feet have seen so many miles already – perhaps he was foolish to think they might be happy stagnant in the north. Helovia is full of secrets and reasons he cannot yet fathom. “Why do you stay with the Aurora Basin?” he wonders quietly. Perhaps it is too personal a question; blue eyes flicker warily for an instant, ready to draw away should some hidden temper rear at him.

        It is in this moment of wariness, as his attention narrows, Caneo notices a flash of movement further down the beach, past Roland’s shoulder. It is something pale as moonlight, pale like the silver boy but at the same time – nothing like either unicorn at all. He blinks, curiosity flickering through his eyes, twisting too soon into a frown as he steps back, his head high, his long legs quite prepared to run.

        It is a strange, thin, little creature, its legs like matchsticks, and it stands only on the back two, yet it doesn’t seem about to fall over. Perhaps that is why Caneo lingers still. Or perhaps he is caught by the sound of the voice – that voice like the low rushing of small waves – asking him where they are. The tension in his limb draws down and quiets, but he does not answer. He looks to Roland instead, instinct perhaps instructing him to find a good example in the older stallion. Or maybe he merely wonders if Roland knows this type of creature; if he is overreacting again. He cannot know. And so he waits.

sxc.hu


[ Sorry about the wait. ]

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#7

when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see


The Thief’s heart sank. He had once believed that the Aurora Basin was synonymous with unhappiness; that there would never be a place for him in the midst of so much ice and snow, in the company of such callous supremacists. Caneo’s declaration of dysphoria only served to bestow a feeling of hopeless dismay upon the golden stallion. His mouth twisted downwards as he looked out to the sea, allowing a heavy sigh to escape his lips. The exhale was masked by the rush of waves upon the sand, but there was no mistaking the troubled frown upon his face. He had known the feeling. The concept of a home had been foreign, after having gone so long without knowing a family. The threat of being tied down had made him nervous and reluctant to commit, when there was as high a chance that he would fall short of all their wishes as there was that he would abandon them after a short and fruitless time. Roland had intended to leave, as Caneo had. His wish to escape had endured for months, seasons, and had only faltered once he’d found himself in the sanctuary below ground, stifled by so much rock and stagnant air. It was only then that he’d found himself longing for the Basin, his home, and had realized just how much it meant to him. There was no telling where he might be now, if he had let himself run away.

The boy’s voice came quietly through the dissonance of wind and water. The Thief tilted his head obligingly, taking in his question with a growing feeling of unease. He faltered, searching for an answer only to find that he didn’t seem to possess one. Had he ever really known? There were certain things now, convictions and friendships, that tied him to his herd, and it was both a curse and relief to feel a sense of responsibility towards them. Even if he should not have been so forthright, he couldn’t help but feel he could trust the boy. Whatever answer he gave would likely be kept between them. “Years ago, I never would have wanted such a burden. But I stayed with them because I felt it was my duty.” The wind pulled at his tail as he glanced along the beach, pulling in an even breath. “Before I even realized it, I felt a sense of loyalty to them. It is difficult now to think of my own happiness, when I must also consider the wellbeing of my family.

A sudden tension in the boy’s frame followed his words, and as Roland looked inquisitively towards him he noticed Caneo’s blue gaze had fixed upon a point past his own shoulder. The Thief frowned, his own muscles tensing as he turned to look down the uneven slope of the beach, until his searching gaze fell upon a tall and slender figure. It was like nothing Roland had ever seen before, carrying itself upon two legs rather than four. Its hide was strange, oddly pale, and long wet locks of sterling hair fell down its back. He stiffened, taking a step further to place himself between it and Caneo, even as his heart began to thunder in his chest. The Thief had never been renowned for his courage.

The creature paced towards them a few feet, leaving odd foot prints in the wet sand with every step, moving like an otherworldly specter. Roland had never known just what kind of things the ocean held, or what might have come crawling out of its depths; somehow, this was entirely more unnerving than what he had pictured. In the future he would not be so ready to return to the shore if he ran the risk of encountering such strange beasts lurking within the tide.

He blinked when it called out to them, words echoing off the rocks in what seemed an almost accusing tone, but the question it posed was harmless enough. The Thief paused, looking back at Caneo to give him a questioning glance, and to ensure he was alright. No doubt the boy was faring better than himself, for it seemed he had endured a great number of things that Roland could only imagine. With a quiet sigh, he turned back to the strange creature, tilting his head as he looked it up and down. “This is Helovia,” he replied simply, almost curtly. He could think of little else with which to fill the tense, ensuing silence. And so he stood, and watched, and willed the anxious beat of his heart to calm to its usual pace once more.

Image Credit


NPC Posts: 298
User-based Random Event
Stallion :: Equine :: ::
#8
When the two look over to her and then among themselves, there is a long moment of silence – almost too long. She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest, tilting her head so that her blue tinged, pink and pearlescent lips pout in sorrowful aggravation that they cannot speak.

Finally, drawing her attention with eyes that grow wide in anticipation, her arms falling to her sides and her hands clutching her fingers tight to palms, hoping that he’ll name it as a land where these are only wild mounts, free in the wilderness fringing cities – that he’ll say anything at all would be a fantastic start. He sighs.

Helovia, he says, in a rich voice for a beast with four legs, one that makes her brow rise in curious wonder at the spectacle before her. Can his companion speak as eloquently? The last place she floated adrift upon had animals that spoke, to be sure, but it was gruff, primal, animalistic in comparison to the way his face mimics the articulation of his words as if he truly knows what they mean.

Either way, its bad news; what hope there is in his pretty voice is lost in the nothingness it brings her. Another hundred years in the sea and a few measly weeks here among talking unicorns for her – and it is her time to sigh, plopping herself down into the sand and folding her ankles up beneath her knees, leaning back with her palms flat and fingers extended behind her. She’s heard of this land – its nothing but animals, ruled by horse Gods, and she’s far above her sisters who breed with such ilk.

”The sea has cursed me,” she says to the sand at her feet, suddenly looking back to the curt unicorn stallion who answered her, rising to her legs quickly and brushing the sand from the back of her thighs, ”Erva Marinha.”

It’s her name, and it’s offered with a small bow that bends her bodice only slightly at the waist, a small flourish of her hand extended to the two unicorns.

”I don’t suppose there is suitable shelter for a hairless thing like myself nearby, is there?” she asks, the wind answering her with its chill touch that sends bumps thriving along her white skin. It was an unfortunate day for a selkie who washed ashore in a land without clothing readily available in such a season.

Caneo Posts: 133
Hidden Account atk: 7.5 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3h :: 6 years HP: 61 | Buff: NOVICE
Ophiria :: Dragon Snake :: None kae
#9

        Duty. What is that, but an anchor? Caneo drinks in the word without answering. He recalls a tale like this, recalls others who spoke of love like chains, and at his heart he recoils from such an idea. To be trapped, to owe – what kind of good is that? The silver boy nods, but as he does a thought occurs, and those wide, pale eyes skim quickly up to Roland’s face. “Are you not happy?” Perhaps he has no business worrying, but the tip of his tail dances anxiously behind him. Is that all it means to be with others? Sacrifice? He thinks, not for the first time – not for the last – of a sharp smell on the air, of the moon like a sickle hanging poised over tiny black waves.

        He imagines himself running.

        Perhaps that is why he takes so sharply to the girl – she seems to be a girl, soft – when she does appear. He follows the subtle movement of Roland’s body, brought now between himself and the narrow, two-legged thing, and such a stance rings like alarm bells in his head. Caneo’s nostrils flare, sucking in the bitter salt air, and his ears twitch, as if to shake off the creaking voices of the gulls and drink her in, divine her every motive for approaching them.

        Or perhaps he merely wonders how fast she is. He thinks, not very.

        She speaks again in that soft voice like wind running over the rocks, and he peers at her solemnly. Roland’s voice has rolled between them, low and firm, giving answer to her inquiry but nothing more. It sets the tone for Caneo’s mood, and he shifts a little, sidling from behind the thief to nearly beside. He is, for all his fear, a child no more – he stands higher than both. He stands quietly, however, graceful and without threat, his ears cupped toward the sound of her words. The sea has cursed me. That, of course, Caneo might believe – he casts an untrusting eye on the play of the waves. But she says something else, afterward, and the words ring foreign on his ears. A curse? A blessing? Or perhaps... her name?

        Caneo’s face leans forward, and slowly tilts to one side. He reads no threat in her, though he still watches from far out, his body taut as ropes. She makes a strange move downward and it might be in submission, or acknowledgement. Slowly, slowly he mirrors it with the tiniest nod of his own. When she asks another question, his gaze flicks briefly to Roland before it turns up the beach. He thinks, perhaps she would lure them to the trees and devour them, but his legs are still fast in the shade, and if she is alone... He blinks at her, at her naked skin and her thin, delicate limbs. How easily such a thing might be torn apart.

        “A grove of trees,” he offers quietly. His tail moves uncertainly behind him, belying any peace on the low voice. With a graceful motion, the tiny curve of his horn thrusts inland. “Are you lost from your herd?” He helped someone else once, long ago, find a mother lost. He thinks perhaps he could help this one, if she is not dangerous. His thoughts flit uncertainly between fear and interest.

sxc.hu

Roland Posts: 230
Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Glo
#10

when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see


The Thief had expected that, after some time, he might grow accustomed to Caneo’s mannerisms; that he might understand and even anticipate his concerns, what questions he might ask. He was caught off guard again. Roland did not expect the boy of so few words to make such blatant inquiries, nor could he figure out why. Was he simply curious, searching for a road map, a blue print to follow as he carved his own way through the world? Did he look to use Roland as an example, an idea of what not to do? Did he care for the Thief, or was this just the inquisitive nature of children at work behind every query? The Thief’s gaze roamed across the wet sand, followed the path of waves trailing over it as if in a rhythmic dance, and frowned as he watched it. He could neither confirm nor deny the inference, though he would very much have liked to insist he was fine. “I’m not sure,” he replied simply, quietly, and if Caneo chose not to hear the confession, it could easily have been excused as the rush of an ocean breeze across the shoreline. Regardless, the conversation was dropped once their party of two became three.

She was a strange creature. The Thief had not been an avid explorer in his lifetime, and she was decidedly different from anything he had come across, or heard of. He watched, stubbornly hiding his curiousity as the creature folded her limbs and sank onto the damp sand, bending in a peculiar way so she could stretch her forelimbs out behind her. Her tone was brusque, direct, and Roland was captivated as she conversed with them and muttered briefly of curses. Before he had a chance to inquire, she spoke again, and at first he could not seem to comprehend the words that were directed towards them. The unfamiliar syllables were punctuated with a courteous bow- at least, the Thief assumed that was what she was attempting, though she used the whole of her upper body to stoop, whereas Roland was accustomed to merely curving his neck. After a moment of silence, he dared to suppose that the proffered words, seemingly from a different language, must be her name. Cautiously, he replied with, “Roland, Thief,” his title slipping out upon reflex, though no doubt she wouldn’t know quite what to make of it.

From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the silver shift of Caneo drawing up alongside him, but Roland’s attention did not stray from the creature. The peculiar sound of her voice broke through the whisper of waves; a question, this time. The Thief pursed his lips before an inarticulate noise of deliberation could escape, tilting his weight onto his hip as he turned to contemplate the shoreline and the dark pattern of trees beyond it. Caneo spoke up before he could answer, offering the forest at their back, and Roland nodded in agreement. He thought briefly of the sanctuary underground, but he could not consider sending another into its dank and molding depths, knowing how it felt to be smothered beneath the earth until each day blended seamlessly into the next. “Why not return to the sea?” He asked once Caneo had spoken. “Is it not your home?

(Sorry for the wait <3)

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