Can’t feel anything—when will I learn?

I push it down, push it down.

His head throbs.

Were he standing closer to their mammoth of a king, the Warlander likely would make a half-playful comment about his booming voice, but from where he rests beneath the trees, Rohan stands quietly. With half-lidded eyes he watches as others come to slowly filter into their gathering, some familiar faces holding his gaze for a moment before continuing lazily on. Thinking back to the last time they had assembled as a herd, he wonders whether this meeting will be as…exciting. He’s not sure whether their patron god is supposed to arrive at every gathering, or just when things get interesting. Part of the stallion wouldn’t mind seeing her svelte figure again, but the other part—arguably a large part at this moment—just wants to retreat quietly back to his solitude.

Shifting his weight to a more comfortable position, the antlered stallion leans back, his hips dipping sharply to one side as a hind leg is relieved of his weight. While his head his lowered, green eyes remain loosely focused on Tembovu, one brown-rimmed ear slanting forward when the Elephant King begins to address those that stand before him. Rohan has the idea that he will listen to what his king has to say, perhaps nod a time or two, and then slip back in a quiet and unremarkable ease of events. All is going according to plan for about two seconds before—

“Rohan—”

The Warlander lifts his head sharply at the sound of his name, the action sending a fresh round of stabbing pain behind his eyes, and he blinks blearily while trying to grasp desperately at comprehension, Temobvu’s words filtering through the echo in his ears.

“—Will be promoted to Captain and act in her stead until she returns.”

Well shit.

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Suddenly very aware of the Elephant King’s attention, Rohan straightens his posture, gritting his jaw against his aching muscles and his pounding (throbbing, bursting, spiraling) head. For a good long second or two he probably looks like a deer caught in headlights—a very hairy, unkempt deer. Still, perhaps his inebriation has, ultimately, worked out in his favor. Usually, the Warlander’s mind would be spinning with the fresh responsibilities and weight on his shoulders, but now…well, his head is just plain spinning, and far too hazy to dwell much on it now. “I’m honored,” he rumbles, unsure if either Tembovu or Elsa will be able to hear him.

Rohan dips his head in a shallow bow, where it rests as the meeting continues. There are a few words that stand out among the rest—Aurora Basin, alliance, broken, healing—which prod at and tempt certain memories that he wishes to smother (why must it be so hard?). Pressing his lips together, the antlered stallion allows his thoughts to drift, lingering on fresh pools and ecstasy, where the cruel pain of reality can’t reach him.


notes; Thank you thank you thank you!:D
“Speech.”

rohan