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SUMMARY
WC: 798
PC: Opening Post, 0/?
Summary: Ashamin heads south from the Basin and sees Torleik in the distance. He attempts to turn back and stay out of sight but is spotted by Torleik before he can do so, and then decides this is a good as place to start sparring as any. After introducing himself, he declines to make the first move and offers it to Torleik.
Timeline: Standard
OOC: I hope you don't mind that Ashamin didn't attack off the bat, it would have been very out of character for him. And I think no need for the teaching stuff, let's just do a friendly spar and see where things go. :) How many rounds do you want? You feel free to pick. Also I didn't mention Irelyn because you didn't--is it safe to assume she not present for this? Also sorry it got long, I have an excessive amount of muse for Ashamin as of late. So happy to see you using the table <3
Speech
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
Ashamin had at last wandered from his new home. He explored the surroundings tentatively--each overturned rock an opportunity to discover something new, each crumbling leaf snapping beneath the shadows of his cleft hooves a scare of a threat. He knew he had no reason to be this nervous, not in the light of day with his home close enough to return to, but couldn't suppress the anxiousness of being out in such a warm open. Perhaps this rocky part of the land, with its faint smattering of trees and its delicate chill was no summer-walk for its inhabitants, but Ashamin felt only a nostalgia for the ice of his homeland.
Whether that homeland was the Basin or the valley of his father's home, he wasn't quite sure. Past and present was beginning to blur together for the young buck, and it was difficult, now, to distinguish what and where he was. If he stopped to think of it objectively, logically, it became quite clear: he was a soldier, newly accepted the ranks of the Aurora Basin's first line of defense, encouraged and perhaps even mentored by a strong, winged warrior from another land. But if he were to think about it any other fashion, if he were to take into account the vast variables of his emotions, the matter became altogether more difficult to discern. Was he a runaway, doing all he could to move faster than the ghost of his father but still falling back into those trenches of despair, becoming a fighter simply to dull the pain of his grief beneath the sharper sting of a bite or kick? Or was he a valiant young stallion, defying the form he'd been given and attempting to better himself through practice and dedication, to prove himself and honor his father's memory?
Ashamin knew what he had told Einarr and he knew what he had told himself, but he no longer knew what was true. As he headed West he trained his eyes on the ground and the short shadow that he cast before himself. It was a blur of his image, a darker reflection of what he would have seen in the perfect mirror of the Basin's unfreezing lake. But here, out in the unknown wilds of this new land, there were not places of reflection. The introspection that the safety of a place to call home had afforded him was now lost, and he was focused instead on catching the faint sounds of wildlife stirring in the distant, happy little trees, or the hum of the faint breezes that endowed the atmosphere with a clean chill.
It was only when he lifted his gaze that he became aware of the fact that he truly was not in Kansas anymore. The stallion in the distance appeared to him as a hulking figure: a beast so black that at first Ashamin thought he may not have been real, but a mere figment of a shadow. But a slow blink and a steady breath revealed to him that the one before him was, in fact, as grounded in reality as Ashamin was. Well, whatever that meant.
Instinct kicked in. The young stallion almost turned to run, his heart thudding in his chest, his blood pumping in fast fear as the stranger's gait sped and he drew closer to Ashamin, but the younger stallion was stopped when the other stallion spoke. He was just able to process the words through the waves of anxiousness crashing within him. A former Basiner? So this other stallion had been like him, once, perhaps, but now his presence demanded a respect Ashamin had yet to earn.
Ashamin hesitated. The offer was tempting and terrifying all at once. The older stallion reminded Ashamin of his own father, but without the safety of love and desire to do no harm. This stallion's intentions, though apparently innocent, were completely unknown to the younger unicorn. Still, though he dwarfed beside the other and his inexperience would surely be made clear in the light of this stallion's age, he could not forget Einarr's words: "Strength is one's own. No two have same strength. Ashamin have his own strength, not father's."
Yes, Ashamin had his own strength. And though it was not in public speaking or making the first move, it was in a newfound determination. "My name is Ashamin," he answered slowly, struggling to convey confidence. "I am a soldier of the Basin." He offered his cheek to touch as always, extending it to the older brute, and the bent his neck low in respect. "It would be an honor, sir."
Not knowing how to proceed but remembering faintly his father's courtesy, Ashamin retreated and stood as tall as he could manage, inviting the other to make the first move.
Table by Jen, with help from Avis
Admin edit: fixing an incorrect tag.
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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