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06-13-2015, 10:09 AM
Better
Nick your skin
to bleed for me
and I will change
for you.
ASHAMIN
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
BEAUTY IS PERCEPTION
It was hard for Ashamin to understand anything this little filly did, but with a little bit of thought he could usually interpret well enough. He remembered so well what it was like to be a child that he often forgot he wasn't one, any longer, and he regretted the fact, too. Childhood had been safety for him.
And though he could only hope the same for this filly, adorned in grown up's things, the absence of parental company filled him with dread. Was she alone, too?
No, he supposed neither of them were alone, now. As if on cue the egg rolled slightly down the hill to bump into his fetlock. The shaking was less, now, and the confidence built. He was no longer the weak one, here. Perhaps he still knew less than this little 'panioned mare, with her kitsune and the small spider crawling out from her mane (how odd, he thought, that one would keep such a creature as its company.) Less, at least, about the bond he had yet for forge.
He only took a moment to understand her misunderstanding, and he smiled warmly. The same fear he held for so many others faded in the face of her youth. Zahra--so that was her name. He felt her breath tickle his features, and knew then the kindness of the innocent. This was no Zandora in the wood. If this child had known tragedy, she didn't know it yet. That, he thought, was the greatest blessing she could have. And if sorrow was to come to her, and she was to be alone, then, like this, he vowed then, to be at her side.
Even if he couldn't find her, in all of this vast and unexplored land, he needed her to know he was there, at her back, watching out.
"A miracle and a Zahra, then," Ashamin offered lightly, his tones striking the cold of the air like dulled chimes. "By Faith, let your name mean that you bring good tidings."
His long tail snaked forward through the air; Ashamin dangled its hairs before the kitsune first, and nosed forward to get a closer look at the spider. "I am Ashamin," the buck put forth politely. "It is truly a blessing to meet you and your 'panions."
After that, after the customary greetings and exchanges, there was not much for the paint to say for a little while. He listened with care, nodding politely and turning his wide dishes to her, but focusing more on adjusting his own balance and not finding the focus to give her any reply. He was healed, now, and there was no need to wobble so much, but the feeling of his leg took getting used to. He took a step or two while Zahra spoke, nudging the egg as he went as if to prove to himself that rolling it back to the Basin would be an effort made in vain. Ashamin did not stray far, for the leg ached with the stiffness of unuse, now, but it was good, he knew, to be able to walk once more. And good to be left with wounds closed.
He once again looked nervously at the cut on the filly's fetlock, the cut he'd caused. Her gold blood was a wonder, but her injury was Ashamin's focus.
When the mare pulled from the collar on her breast a multitude of trinkets, he was surprised to see one so like the chain and pendant he had found in the waters. Surely, now, he knew he had to offer her this. But once more, before he could, she caught his attention. The ribbon she produced was a magnificent white banner, a thin display of beauty in cloth. This, Ashamin thought to himself, was one talented little filly.
He wasted no time. "It is beautiful," he breathed. And so caught up was Ashamin in that strong little string of white, so enraptured was he, that he lost all qualms of asking. For the moment he saw that strength, he knew it could help him carry the little egg home. Hopefully, Zahra was wrong about more than the 'panion's gender--hopefully he wouldn't mind the cold.
"Please, sweet Zahra, I have already received so much from you, but could I ask you one more favor?"
Was it greed? The buck thought not. The words were difficult, coming out from his lips, but also smooth and silken, taking on the qualities of the ribbon he so admired. He turned his head to his back and gripped the amulet in his mouth, taking a step towards the mare when he did so.
This, he did not ask after. If he asked, she had a chance to say no, and Ashamin wanted her to have this, regardless. He stretched forth his nose to drop the amulet in the hollow between the girl's collar and chest. "For this trinket," he said, smiling, the words and his breath likely hitting her little body with warmth, "could you make me a cradle for him?"
And here he looked back to his 'panion, lying on the ground with its perfect greyed shell, and knew that more than anything, he needed to care for its being.
Ashamin knew, in some way, he needed to care for all.
[[@[Zahra]]]
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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