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01-30-2015, 02:56 PM
 He could feel the boy's eyes on him as he searched for a new stone, but he paid it little mind. He understood all too well how odd this must seem, but hopefully the younger man would see the practicality of it. Although, at a glance, Buce didn't think the other black needed it as much. Like most Helovians he'd met, he was so still it was frustrating. Buce wanted to goad him into movement, into action, just for the sake of his own pleasure. But that wouldn't be wise. However at his question of the black's origins, Bucephalus couldn't help a watery snort escaping him, and he raised his head to reply, gold eyes meeting silver. "No, from a land far north, many a day's flight." The black didn't think the memory of his terror-fueled flight from Sehrau would ever leave him. It had been the longest flight he had ever taken; there was no rest, hardly time to eat and drink, and he did nature's duty on the wing. If he were a less hardy man, he would have flown himself into death's embrace. As it was, a day in the Threshold before meeting Elsa and Ampere had granted him the strength to continue, and to enter this land. "What of you? Born or entered?" He was mildly curious about this, but in all honesty he doubted he'd meet this man again, so he didn't bother asking about a name. No, if they met again he would. For now, he was content with a conversation between ghosts.  |
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