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06-13-2015, 07:55 PM
Home
I am home.
Not for the wind,
for the winter or snow,
not for the howls of the fighting below,
not for the wicked, the torrid, the blows.
No, I am home
for the ones that I know
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
The journey had been long, but at last Ashamin was home. He had met many, and returned home perhaps with two of his company, but what he arrived home to, that was unexpected.
Apparently, in his absence spent lying in the lake, bleeding and twisting, crying and worrying, some sort of change had occurred. And he appeared now in its aftermath, his nose high with a sort of pride for how far he had wandered and the trophies (and scars) he had returned with, completely unaware of it all.
He could guess based on the mass of members and the fact that none of them were running or screaming that what he'd stumbled into was something organized, but the gathering still made him nervous. As if seeking comfort, he pressed his nose to the egg and let the whiskers on his nose tickle its shell. Still, it did not stir--still, it waited for the right moment to reveal itself.
Figuring that perhaps as a part of the herd he was meant to be with the group, following like a sheep, Ashamin settled in at the back of the crowd. This was something he would, as always, observe in silence. Unless called upon, which was the last thing he expected, he had nothing to do here but listen. But of course in the moment he had arrived, so too were several others. Among them, an antlered giant, the surprise of a winged mare, a candy-striped stallion, a bright eyed creature with silver hair, and a chestnut with a long tail not unlike Ashamin's own.
So this, the young buck thought, was his herd.
And when he lifted his gaze to see the figures that stood at its head--the dark stallion, the golden one he'd met before, and the younger two-toned mare--he swelled with pride. He knew very few here. Aside from the golden man and Rexanna and Lena, who he could see in the distance, he was in some ways alone. But all that aside, this gathering of great horned beings was his home, and he would never be more thankful for anything than that.
So he stepped forward, hanging back at the edge of the crowd with his tail low and his back leg bent at an awkward angle as it learned again to stand, and waited for wisdom to spring from the lips of those who he held dear.
He had seen nothing of the turmoil, nothing of the anger. Ashamin felt only love.
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.
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