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06-21-2015, 12:02 PM
He thought about lying almost immediately. Here was a chance to hone his craft, to speculate, to dazzle, to demonstrate some innate prowess for devilry and mischief, but something inside him put it on pause. An inward trepidation, perhaps a warning from his mother threaded through the stars, or a pinnacle of his good characteristics and values, eclipsed the sinuous, unwinding asp motives. This stag had been kind, and unnecessarily so. He was naught like Essetia and her foul Romul, taking every notion and action he made to scold, to rebuke, to reprimand, and he’d been willing to assist him. What was one more being that knew him? What was one more figure to remember his calling? Wouldn’t they all, someday? The serpentine motions and movements ceased, the flutters, the flickers of his frown eroded. He felt Orsino stifle a yawn, no escalating adversities granting him action or cause for alarm, perhaps bored entirely by the proceedings, batting at a few stray leaves that had managed to survive chilling winds and frigid gales; but the scion chiseled and sculpted his doubts, his seditious clamors, to a halt. There was a glimmer of a promise, of a conviction, of an oath dangling in front of him, because his ears had pricked at the mention of Aithniel, at the potential that she still wandered over hither and non, that he hadn’t missed her in passing, that she hadn’t flown off into another warren or cave or labyrinth. Perhaps, for the mere information, for the miniscule tidbit, he could give something of himself. His excitement grew, undaunted, sparked and kindled, expressed in a momentous bout of exuberance, drawing closer to the taller stag, crouching like a small tiger cub basking in the glow of danger and deceit, at the mounting prowess of a hunt, lion-tail swishing against the snow. The little beast’s smile bloomed and blossomed: luminescent, radiant, bright, as if he were a child completely untouched by woes, by shadows and misfortunes – when they all knew no youth grew to be so innocent, not in Helovia, where murderers plotted and cretins united and daggers were tucked beneath manes. The boy launched into a series of questions, speculating endlessly, fraying at the edges, at the seams, of a ceasing conundrum, of an unraveling mystery. “You do? Could you tell me? Does she live nearby?” Would he be permitted to find her, or did she want to remain anonymous, gliding on the winds, without the past burdening her flight? Was he a burden to her, and that’s why she never told him she was leaving, going, fleeing? Only thereafter did he thread his calling into the reverie, allowing one more to know who he was, what he could become. “I’m Erebos.” He said naught of his harem, of the land stretching beyond their frames, beautiful and treacherous, deadly and overwhelming, holding a race of power and prestige, an empire surrounded by enigmas, history, legends, and mystique. In return, he beseeched the same inquiry to the other lad. “Who are you?” OOC;; TAG;; @[Cathun] |
- table by Niki -
