| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
Magic, it turned out, was not that difficult to find. Rather, it seemed to have sought the Thief out of its own accord, a lilting, rhythmic voice seeping out of the seething coils of darkness, a disembodied rant proposing enigmas and conundrums, billowing forth from the shadowed mouth of a cave. It rattled through the catacombs as if waiting, expecting his arrival, as if it knew of his intentions. It seemed far too easy; but then, he supposed magic was not predictable, it was nonsensical, it had a will of its own in an unsettling sort of way, and if it had sensed within him any desire for its abilities of persuasion and two-faced intrigue, then it was only natural that it would manifest where he would stumble upon it, fall into its clutches. Roland knew of only one other kind that would prey upon the intentions of others, that would twist their determinations into a device of its own, luring in with false, sweet promises, visions of grandeur and power, indulge upon ambitions and aspirations. He knew the lifestyle of chicanery, lived and breathed the practice; it had once been his driving force, the very blood that ran within his veins, and he would not be swayed, he would not, like some impressionable, naive child, be lulled into a false sense of security, be dazzled by its impossible and impractical promises.
He was wary, as he had been before when faced with magic, cautious and guarded, doubtful and mistrusting, unflinching and unbending to the sway of its honeyed words. He followed the sound of its voice through the darkened halls, but his gaze was hard when he at last looked upon the creature that had voiced a haunting summons, his jaw tense and his brow dipped, as if expecting to leap straight into the arms of a fight. Its voice echoed along the ribs of stone, through the throat of the Basin's tunnels, a silver coated predator with keen eyes, and that, Roland thought, was the very face of duplicity. He knew the kind well, and was impervious to the shark-sharp grins, the song that was not so much pleasant as it was grating upon his bones like the blade of a knife against a whetstone. He flinched away from the sight of a sheet of glass set into the stone, startled to see his own face reflected upon its surface. It was all too hauntingly familiar. The Thief felt the faint scar on his throat throb at the memory, a sense of dread flooding his chest with ice until his limbs felt numb, his head felt light. He knew how this would end, could almost envision the serpents winding their way around his limbs, venom pulsing through his bloodstream. Was she taunting him?
The Thief drew to an uneasy halt, his gaze wavering from the feline, reluctant to draw his attention from her. His head turned to seek out Lena, a warning in his eyes, but he was pulled away by the sound of the creature's voice, striking up amidst the silence like flint against stone, sparking to life a purpose, an intent in the rhythmic tone of her voice. Roland listened, watching her with an unwavering intensity as he soaked in the twisted vernacular. A request, a proposition, echoed then throughout the walls of his mind, and he flattened his ears against his skull as if hoping to block it out, to escape from her poking around in his head.
He took a wary step forwards, hooves striking against the ground. There was no turning back now, after having come so far, regardless of what might come of it. He had to grasp at fragments of hope, of confidence, and maybe the circlet that Lena had placed upon his brow would give him luck, deliver him unharmed from the riddles spun throughout the hollowed stone. His mind turned over the words, the destruction implied within them, of reaching ends, perishing, diminishing, aging and withering, and with it came the one answer that provided reason, explanation, for every verse. The Thief tilted his chin up, meeting the feline's eyes with an almost questioning gaze. "Time."
@[Lena]
Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.
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Image Credit
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