Яikyn

How much of life did Narcissus let pass unnoticed as he stared into his mirror?

And, even if I had known who Narcissus was, would the tale have made me look out from my inward cast gaze?

Doubtful; even as she warms to my presence, I have not noticed she was ever reserved or frigid at all, having leapt to the decision that she was fine with my company, as she had initiated the conversation. I take notice of the obvious, such as her nod, but am too absorbed in what I think and I feel to care much for the emotional state she finds herself in.

She smiles, and laughs, each line of her life creasing, revealing (to a skilled eye, anyway) the story of who she was. To me, it is a face that instills trust, a warm liking of her rising in my heart for the simple fact that she is a matron, a soft and gentle ambassador of life. I cannot know that in all her years she has managed to give life to none, though she has tried; I have never thought that there could be such a wound in a woman’s soul.

Surely they could all give life. It was the gift the Gods granted us all, was it not, our rightly power as beings born of their grace, their ultimate understanding?

I smile in happiness that she likes Helovia and the Basin despite its currently tumultuous setting; I’m glad I won’t have to defend it further.

"Ah, but you have to like wandering some, still," I reply with a roguish wink to accompany the cheeky words which follow, inclining with my horn towards the path she had been walking along as she’d called my attention (it leads back home, if I recall correctly), a suggestion that we walk and talk as I take a few paces forward, "or you would be alongside the lake, with the rest of the droll homebodies."

I pause to see if she’ll take my offer to walk. I find that, while I could tolerate standing and talking for at least a few minutes, the energy that ran through me this afternoon couldn’t be restrained for anything much longer than that. If she doesn’t want to wander and converse, I may have to jog in place.

"Not that they aren’t nice," I amend, an obvious after thought that lacks any sort of sincerity to the discriminating ear – I guess it is sort of rude to call your herd mates names, even if some of them never really seem to leave the Basin, but it doesn't mean I approve of hanging out in one valley forever and ever.

What sort of person enjoys that sort of confinement, such smallness? The world is vast, the least they can do is pay homage to the First Gods who built it by getting a good look on at least some part of it beyond a single herd land.

in every heart a hole