R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.
It hadn't occurred to the flame-kissed brute that he could give in to the temptations of curiosity. This curious nature that had approached him was too much to defy, and so he followed his instinct. The Sandman wandered far to the East of the Edge, his own territory. Now finding himself within what was scented as another homeland, he gazed round with utter interest at his surroundings. Here the wind whistled through stunted trees that scattered the landscape in scarce fashion, the grass also stunted. There was plenty of grass, and herbage, but in this almost barren landscape it did not seem enough. The rocks that had been long worn down by the winds were placed willy nilly around the terra firma; Ricciardo thought they were rather easy to catch his daggers on. Beyond in the horizon, mountains jutted out and overall gave the place a far more beautiful side to it.
Ricciardo found himself in the mist of the early morning. Having travelled through most of the night in order to not be spotted by a fellow herd member, he had surprisingly managed to retain most of his energy. The mist cast little dew droplets upon the ground, and swirled around him. It did not waver his sight, and so found it easily to inspect this land. Soon his sturdy pillars navigated him to a magnificent waterfall, deep into the lands of this new territory. With his lobes pricked forward, he gazed deeper and found himself lost in the beauty of this place. What a place it must be at night though, he mused.
Arching his neck down, he let his handsome crown take a drink from the refreshing waters of the feature. However, not much. The sorrel beast knew better than to take too much advantage, especially on foreign ground. As he lifted his burly mass back into its upright position, he shook his thin curled silks and let his sandy pools take in one last, long gaze around. It was a startlingly beautiful place to the brute that had known little than sands and forests, since he could remember. The Deep Blue was a place he sought refuge when he needed to plan or strengthen his inevitable solitude - a place where he could reflect on his lonely life without the prying eyes of the World's Edge members that judged him. With a sigh he thought dejectedly about his decisions. It felt good to be in a better rank; being an Emmissary was a grand honour for the horned brute. But without the approval and love from the others it was hard to think of anything else that was going right.
"Maybe one day I shall find this, and when I do, it'll be worth the wait," but his optimistic tone was soon deepened, as he continued to speak to nobody but himself, "But what if I don't?"
He turned back to the waterfall, leaning in to see his reflection in one of the still puddles. Looking back he hoped to see everything he was, but all that stared back into his orbs was everything he wasn't. Another sigh let slip through his soft velveteens, "I am deemed to spend my life alone..."
[OOC: Ricc does not wish to start a fight, he has become curious with his surroundings and is wondering what it is like in other herds, but at the moment has become wrapped up in his problems.]
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WILLOW & ERMINE
.arborun lignea .. .mare. ..23 years. .. .16.3 hands.
"Now surely that's untrue," a kind voice responds strongly to the stallion. It comes from a rather large and hefty mare that has been watching him from some of the ledges above. A smile graces her maw, crinkling the green markings around her eyes, as she begins to stride down the rockway towards the stranger.
That he is an intruder she does not know, or much care about, her response would be the same. Willow accepts easily the strange and the cast aside for she is often met with hostility and solitude. As bizarre a creature as she is to these outsiders, they do not understand or often take the time to learn of her and know her. They judge her at first glance and it is often a harsh ruling. She would not be so hasty to return such an unkindness. So long as he remains civil, he will be met with such manners in return.
As she moves the great tree on her backside leans and wavers. Its leafy tendrils shake and seem to whisper, but they nothing but mindless chatter if anything at all. This waterfall network has become a quick favorite of hers since finding it, however it can prove taxing to navigate being what she is.
"None of us are ever truly alone anyway," she continues to speak, softer now as she has neared and does not need to be heard over the roar of the waterfall. She comes finally to rest on the opposite side of the misting falls, hooves secure on a ledge of stone and moss. "There is always the wind, the rain, our shadows, our dreams - life keeps us company." Her features are gentle, veridian eyes watching him with a happy shine. She is delighted to find someone here, she is dying to know so much about these lands. Although she wouldn't call him the cheerful type, perhaps making him less prone to speaking of the culture here, she is drawn to his personality. Beneath this curious, excited and gentle mare runs a river of discourse, flooded with sorrow and despair. At home she had never fit properly into the designed ranks of her kind and the political turmoil left her wrenched with dissatisfaction. This immediately ostracized her from the rest of the forest, so many of whom were content to browse on the sunshine and water the elders spit out at them.
Such things she did not dwell on. Now she is here, in Helovia, where new opportunities and knowledge run rampant and strangers walk into your waterfalls talking about complex emotions and crippling loneliness. What has she to be sad about now?
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R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.
It hadn't occured to Ricciardo that such creatures such as the one that stood before him were physically real. The plant-like creature was startling, like a beauty of nature yet twisted and warped. Such a fate of being gifted with a tree out of one's back was hardly a desirable to the flame-kissed brute. He was not a supremist like the majority of the Edge, and so he bore no prejudice towards the strange femme. Her kind voice carried over some form of sympathy towards him, and as he stepped back in shock at her display, he could not deny that she did not appear to be a threat.
The noise of the waterfall shrouded much of her speech, but he became accustomed to balancing the two and filtering out what she was saying. The leaves she most curiously bore upon the trunk that appeared to be growing out of her back rustled in the light breeze, and he was captivated by it. Such an interesting creature. The entire presence of the stranger seemed to emit nature, even down to the way she pursued the fact that one could never be alone.
He dipped his head in respect to her, being sure not to cause alarm or suspicion. The last thing he wanted to do was to arouse any thought that he was an intruder. The strange vixen seemed lost in her own thoughts after that, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to bring her back to the surface.
"I am not one to feel at home with the wind, nor the rain. It feels that the only company I am deemed to spend the rest of my years with are my shadow and dreams..." Sorrow screamed through his dejected deep tones, before he shook his head and inquired, "Forgive my forwardness, for I know that I am not at liberty to be so bold in another's territory, but may I ask: What are you?"
He tilted his handsome crown towards her, giving her another once over. The mahogany pelt that she bore was dipped with alabaster, and of course the tree was a variation of mossy hues. She was indeed a magnificent duchess in her own right, the nature seeping out of her. "I am Ricciardo, by the way. A Sandman, of the Edge." The Edge. Having to admit to that wasn't something that he felt proud of, but nevertheless he knew he had to announce it.
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WILLOW & ERMINE
.arborun lignea .. .mare. ..23 years. .. .16.3 hands.
His reaction is kinder than most. It is awe trapped in his eyes rather than fear or anger. She softens. Although perhaps already seeming a pool of calm water her edges had held ice at first approach, wary of any strange and how they may respond. She has little to defend herself with and much to lose so caution trails her every step. It is why she often wanders under the gaze of the trees and the rain, holding the mane of the wind and the dust rather than those of others.
Nature has little to tell her however, at least not plainly. It is cryptic and ancient and she has needs to know of the animals more so than their land. Her life is a constant risk, but it gives her heart reason to beat, even if that pace is often quickened.
"Are shadows and dreams not real enough?" she asks softly, his mournful voice drawing a rise of pity in her chest. What ails the mind and heart of this unfortunate unicorn so?
A laugh bursts from her nose then as he poses a question so unoften heard by her, surprising as it may be. "Worry not, I would rather your forwardness than the many other options you cold have selected." A coolness enters her tone at the end, suggesting past pains and hurt. Her body and her tree are not without their own scars, though the moss seems often attracted to them and covers them with its green kiss.
"I am Willow - a Lignea." She pauses, green eyes assessing him with a steady yet welcome gaze. "Specifically, I am an Aborun Lignea, or that is to say, of a tree's soul. We are an ancient kind, long forgotten and often misunderstood. The tale of my type is long and without heroic." She would rather not speak of herself when there was much else from others to learn, but she understood the fascination with her oddity. Experience had taught her to error on lack of speaking and instead to take of it.
One time she had told another that all the grass they ate was part of a Lignea and that many of those kind did not live long. That individual had feinted. Then they drove her from the herd for spreading false religion and lies and crimed her with attempted murder at bringing anorexia to that fool.
She sighs.
"A sandman?" she queries as he opens up about himself. Her green eyes glint in the soft light of the waterfalls and the arches. "I thought you a unicorn, is this different?" Truthfully she is curious, and the name felt fun on her tongue when she said it.
"What is The Edge?" There are so many edges, how can he call one a The?
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