.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Descent of the Spark
I, electric.
Spark strikes like inspiration for fear.
I seek the descent of a sorrowful evening,
a blanket to hide beneath.
Cast me and shadow and break all my bones,
still I will search for an honor in you.
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
How many times would Ashamin walk upon a scene expecting one thing and finding another? And since the answer was quite obviously many, at what point would it stop being a surprise?
The surprises came in stages, increasingly important and shocking as they progressed. The first, to look more closely at the crowd and begin to understand what sort of variety of personalities lived in his herd, all the while with a stark... lack of variety in the species department. Ashamin frowned, thinking of all the kind winged-ones he'd met, of little helpless Zahra, but shook his head. The stallion at the front was already speaking, and now was not to ask that clearly big question of why.
And that voice, that deep and deadening leaderly call, was the second surprise. The depth to it, and the strangeness of the stallion from which it came, were not what Ashamin had expected to find in the leader of this herd. Then again, had he been hoping for one like Lena? Even the kind buck knew from his father's teachings that gentleness would never make a ruler; it was why Ashamin's mother would never have been fit for a crown, and Ashamin's father would never have sought to pursue one. Ashamin, too, had come to follow in their footsteps.
So when that dark stallion said his name, he could not understand why. But he knew what had come before, the announcement of ranks, and he felt what came after. This, this was the most shocking of them all.
Beginning at his and many others feet were sparks, flying as if untamed but setting no fires and causing no harm. Ashamin could not help but watch the others, and so when he felt the sensation crawl higher up his body, and saw it linger at the hocks of all others, he was struck with distress. Immediately, he thought of the egg at his chest. As if it would do any good he lowered his face and pressed his cheek to the warm surface of the orb, shutting his eyes, waiting for the prickling of those shocks to leave them free.
Ashamin remembers Tiamat, at his side. She had arrived not long after he, and he looked to her then with fear in his eyes. The electricity ran the lengths of his horn like a lightning rod, drawing dangerously close to his black pools and creating in them for the first time, gleaming light of recognition. Would they see the thoughts he held now and the weakness he displayed, would they all turn to him and know that he, whoever he was, was unworthy of this rank?
The paint did not have a moment to contemplate the question of whether or not that was true or realize that perhaps, of this at least, he was deserving, before the sparks faded and the starred stallion's voice overtook it. Ashamin still shook, his nerves still rattled and frayed from the electric summoning--his "promotion." Atlas, on the other hand, seemed unphased.
Ashamin let his black ears turn towards the brash stallion at his other side. He glimpsed Atlas' gaze but could not return it completely. Still he could not understand the lightning about his own frame, and still he could not understand the frankness with which the galaxy stallion spoke.
Though Ashamin was not often one to speak up, certainly not in a crowd, he tried his best to raise his voice and catch the gaze of someone he knew held some power. Maybe Lena, maybe Thranduil, could help him. Then again, did he himself hold power now? Was there even a need to ask for this, if the lightning had heralded an ascension of sorts?
"What Atlas means," the buck began, his voice shaking uncontrollably even as he tried to hide it, "is that I have brought him here for your acceptance, if you find in them what I do. The same is true of Tiamat," Ashamin concluded. His voice sounded tired, as if all its lively confidence had been zapped out of it. "And if I may, I would like to thank you, all three, for granting me this rank."
It was a foolish thing to ask, a ridiculous thing to question.
Why here, now, in front of so many others, after victory and healing, after bringing two new ones home, had he begun to falter?
[[Tagged for mentions: @[Tiamat], @[Atlas], @[Thranduil], @[Lena]]]
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
