@[Alysanne], @[Isopia]

Small dancing lights. A moment upon waking of fractured spilling omens, circles of hopeful beams that broke through the trees surrounding Far's resting body. Awareness fell on him slowly, tiny gold-encircled pupils gazing sleepily at those lights, the whispers of branches shifting and brushing against one another collapsing about his ears. He pulled himself upright, stretching, yawning, his three white-dipped appendages flashing momentarily in the half-lights. He stood as gracefully as a goose waddles out of water...

Then, he was off.

The court jester pulled his petite feet across the earth towards an unknown path. A slumping potato of a man, a faithless scarecrow, a wooden sword in an army of sharpened spears, he walked like a buzzard flies, desperate and searching for its next meal. Yet his walk did not mark his intent--he cared not for meals, cared not for anything. He was a ghost, a traveling phantom without a heart. His motivation had died with his family--oh, but that was a tired story, wasn't it? It didn't matter, for a man as simple as he was, he had simply given up.

But there was curiosity in his eyes, still. The sparks of life that led the bag of bones to stop at the sight of an unusual black bird and a lady, speaking with ease together. So odd and yet he pondered at the sight, not certain if he was dreaming. Dreaming and reality so frequently passed together as of late in his poor beggar's mind. What made the waking world so much worse was the feeling that any of it mattered. At least while he was asleep, he knew he would wake up, and nothing that had come to pass while he slept would matter in the least... Now, here, he pondered if perhaps he spoke--and dare he?--would he disturb the obvious friendly tone, the ease and grace with which the two hello'd? A bitter coldness crept into his heart and he made to retreat, but his curiosity stayed his feet. Interaction was a craving he'd not had for so long... But he felt it now. A tinge of heart-panging, a bit of sorry-to-see-you-go... A little itch of missing... How long had it been since he'd even shared a word with another (with, of course, the exception of a meeting in which he was required to take part)? Ah... you poor beast... Stay a moment. At least pretend not to be an odd one and say a brief hello. Then depart to your cave, if you must. But be a part of something for a moment. Let not the Earth swallow you whole before you've tried a breath of connection with another being...

He paused, ears poised forward, listening, awaiting a good moment to speak a soft greeting... one forehoof poised to turn and bolt, if need be. Coward.

Left the vagabonds
A trail of stones
Forward to find my way home
Now as the air grows cold
The trees unfold
And I am lost
And not found

And who knows
who knows
who knows
--"Vagabond," Beirut