.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
In his Eyes
Big black eyes
full of regret
"I am sorry,
for what I have done."
"I am sorry,
for you who I've hurt."
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
Ashamin had not expected a violent response. It was naive of him, perhaps, but all he knew. He was new to the warrior's code, having only just become a part of it, oh, that morning, and wasn't aware that motions such as his could be interpreted as threats. He hadn't ever before been a threat. So when Sikeax reared in reply, her display of power much more impressive than his weak exhale of it, his whole figure shuddered in a spook.
Ashamin had been standing forlornly at the cave entrance, but the clattering sound of the mare's hooves lifted his head. His large ears pricked up and he started to turn at the sound of an eerie screeching. Once again, something was happening at his back, and once again he was not quick enough to turn.
The young buck only had a moment to notice the wyvern (where had it come from?) plunging towards him through the air, and out of instinct he bucked. There was fight enough in his feeble body to protect himself against a creature such as that, headed straight for him with claws and teeth borne. His kick was not as impressive as it could have been with training, and low enough that it was warning rather than attack, but he still hoped it would drive the flying creature off. Had the situation been a little more at ease, he might have welcomed the approach of the creature or apologized for lashing out, or even questioned how the creature was there before him, but as it were he only had a moment to react, and that was that.
Through it all, the mare asked him a question. His body tensed and he felt fear, nervousness, and an aching unknowing prickling over his skin. A cold chill from outside the cave stirred his coat, catching in a few of the curls beginning to gather on his thickening pelt.
Why was he here?
He wasn't brave enough to return to the mare--he could only collect his posture and pull away from the wyvern's onslaught, thankful for his quickness and ability to get away. Ashamin's long, snake of a tail lashed towards the creature in a vague motion, attempting to keep it at bay, hoping it would understand he was not a threat.
The tone in his voice was quiet, slow, and gentle. Scared, perhaps, even. He kept his neck bent, his face coiled around to look at the other mare, and answered first only with an exhale. His big, black eyes stared into hers, seeking kindness that perhaps was long gone. "I couldn't stay where I was," Ashamin answered with a mournful thought, "not when it was nothing but a grave."
Would she take sympathy? It wasn't what he sought but deep down he knew it was what he needed. And the aggression he'd accidentally flared within her, the fire, would only bring him hurt. His deep eyes were filled with an invisible pleading; would she find emotion in their pitch?
[[@[Sikeax]. I'm having an overall musefart and just trying to do the posts I owe so this is not my best, apologies.]]
Table by Jen, with help from Avis
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
Do not tag me, please message on skype instead
