Your impatience,
like his but
I love it.

How can I love him
The way I love you,
if he can't even ask for my name?



Despite the warm and familiar howls of the storm at the Haruspex's back, he was unable to block out the sound of hate that filtered out from the cave. This young stallion, whomever he was, had a venom on his tongue that sounded bitter and insatiable. Ashamin had been lucky in that in all his time in Helovia he had not been made to encounter one so unkind as this. He had been fortunate, and he had been foolish. Somehow, he had believed there were no wicked souls in the Basin bunch.

And perhaps this one was not wicked, perhaps he was just impudent. But the irritation in his voice, the need to errantly curse, were two things that Ashamin struggled to respect. Still, he was polite; still, he was the Haruspex. He would bow gracefully and approach in peace, even if it meant facing the real threat of rejection.

"I value the wisdom that can be gained from the clash in a spar, to begin with," he answered with a subtle snorted exhale, remaining where he was at the threshold and not daring to step further. "But I would not say I seek out conflict where there is none," he added, thinking it might be a useful caution. If this creature was as defensive as he seemed, perhaps it would be best to stay out unless invited. Not all opened their homes as this gold-marked paint, did.

Lochan's tiny temper, one Ashamin had never before seen, flared at the emotion present in the dark youth's tone. It was likely the young cerndyr knew nothing of the meaning of the words, of the curses, but the emotion in them was painfully present and Lochan was an attentive creature. Ashamin dipped his nose to nudge his companion's side and brush between the buds of his horns, hoping to ease his tension.

He would give this upstart an honest answer, and keep the reprimands to himself. But if his father had been alive, still, and if he had spoken such words? Well, it would not have been a day to forget.

"I am Ashamin, I was appointed the Haruspex at our herd's last meeting, but I am afraid I did not see you there," he answered cooly, the latter comment more question than criticism but perhaps easy to misinterpret. His long tail waved behind him idly, still sparking on occasion, still catching the last hints of light in dashes of blue.

Rather belatedly, he remembered how the younger buck had looked almost scared, lit up but the blue light of spark. "I apologize if I startled you," he added, his tone lacking the sort of humble apology he might have offered to one of rank or, well, decency.

But he wouldn't give up on this one, yet. And perhaps, if this stranger really was looking for a fight for the right reasons, Ashamin could help.

ASHAMIN