Not the five feet of water to your chin
At first, it’s just us two, and the steady stare of appraisal that passes between two men when they first meet. It’s not to say females don’t take the time to look one another over, but I don’t believe it is with the same light – more along the lines of who is prettier, not who will walk away wearing who’s teeth. Thankfully, his creepy eyes do their business, concluding as I have that we are simply wanderers, and that I am no threat to him.
One of my hind hooves alters its angle to one of tranquility as he speaks, though the harshness of his tone is certainly not what allows me such ease around him – rather that I’m young, and often careless. That no fight was immediately born in our meeting is good enough for me to kick back, this fellow’s bad mood having little to do with my more chipper one. Maybe he hates snow, I think as he shakes the flakes away (but they keep drifting, ever downwards)…
‘Ever heard of the Rift?’ he asks, and suddenly the interest in my gaze blazes into full fledged delight at getting to display a portion of my wealth of knowledge. Besides, thinking of the Rift brings to mind Ming Yue, and I always enjoy thinking of my friends in the North. My ears lift, my head manages to (somehow) find an extra degree of levity, and it’s all I have to not delightedly pace forward, spewing a whole lot of information way too quickly.
Take a deep breath, now…
"Yep," I say, the most roguish and youthful of grins brimming on dark lips, as I lean in a bit closer, having struck a sonorous chord already with this strange fellow, and eager to continue about how our Gods and people really gave his Gods the big stick, though I won’t get such a chance. The sound of approach draws both the stranger and I’s attention to the trees, my smile immediately falling away into the dismal line of reproach and annoyance, even before I get to see who it is that’s coming.
Like a log adrift in the sea, once you quit moving in this forest… they all start clinging to you, like wet weed or passing fish carcasses.
She is full of rainbows and sparkles, if the evidence of her arrival is enough for me to go by – a stammered “I’m sorry,” as if it would have spared her the sword were she to run into me, the sweet pitch of her voice as she smiles back and forth at the two of us. She gets no return smile from me – it’s more of an aggravated scowl. For being a full fledged woman like she is, you’d think the magpie would get some more sense about her, like, I don’t know… looking?
The stranger doesn’t seem to know her, managing a greeting while I simply stare her down like she’s some sort of buffoon. If he wonders if we know each other, I hope this answers him – hell to the flaming no.
Now, I do know the next two, golden eyes narrowing despite my attempts to contain the glare I return to Ki’irha, rather than a nod, as she offers me. I swear, some women are just so moody, and this one is definitely one of the worst. Just a few weeks ago, she was ready to rip my throat out for accidentally attacking her months ago (it’s a super long story), and here and now she’s acting almost… cordial, except that freezing cold shoulder she puts on after introductions are through.
What. Ever.
The second is Tangere, her smile kind and as I remember it from a much smaller height. Despite having been interrupted by a bird and a bitch monster, I am happy to see her, and return to the smile, even going so far as to reach out and attempt to run my lips along her near shoulder, if she’ll let me, in greeting. And so, it seems, things will return to normal, because the healer alongside me is the first to offer the very usual offering made in this wood, once they get over talking about how “lovely” snow is (I think its cold, and makes for poor footing).
That she calls them “savages” is moderately appropriate – they certainly managed to chase my whole family off well enough (speaks the bitterness of youth). Still, I can’t help but think of the mountain unicorns as being more than that beneath the veneer of smut and filth that have accumulated on their gleaming name over the years of struggle in Helovia, having been to a kingdom where things were as my mother, as the Plague, had wanted all those years ago. They could be Kings, not just Lords of a mountain valley and the idiots residing there in.
The sigh that falls from me at this thought is well timed, covered from notice (with any luck) by the entrance of yet another woman, a white wolf at her heels. My ears fall back ever so slightly, nostrils widening at the scent of the fluffy hound, so perfectly matched to the white flakes that drift from above; I don’t like this woman or her wolf even more than I don’t like the magpie, or Ki’irha, mostly because her companion makes parts of me curdle up and whimper.
Fighting against the distrust of the white wolf, I let my anger eat away the fear. Maybe it’s not smart – but this lady should meet Elsa. They both are obviously suffering from some sort of female rage problem.
‘Isn’t this lovely?’ she says with such a tone that can only mean she wants to be kicked in the jaw.
Well yes, it is, bitch. Two strapping unicorn gentlemen, two pretty unicorn women, and two ugly fucks to make them look that much better – seems pretty damn lovely to me.
I think my face says as much, the off handed angle of my relaxed hoof (which has been so even through the arrival of all the others) suddenly meeting the earth, my golden eyes pulling away from the stranger and his reactions to stare hotly at this… Essetia, imagining a thousand holes dripping all across her pretty brown skin. I can play nice, see?
The only thing that pulls my eyes away from her is the rumble of the stranger’s voice, my focus again collecting on the strangely marked features of his (to be perfectly honest) creepy face. It was mostly the eyes, all slit and orange – but I’ve also heard tell and seen enough in my two years to know that the unicorn, in particular, comes in all shapes, sizes, and shades. Raistlyn, of the Rift. I like his name as much as I am interested in the Rift, which I learned some of from Ming Yue, but certainly not enough to appease a boy’s curiosities. For instance, what sort of kingdom structure was there within this Rift? How many kingdoms, if any? And, were any of them primarily or entirely Unicorn?
Did they have tales of the True Gods?
She had known only of her own province, but had alluded that there were many more. When he explains that he passed through the Riptide portal, my wonder if he might be from the same place as Ming fades away, the likelihood of he coming through the last portal and she the first, both from the same realm, seem pretty small – not that I claim to know much about portals.
When he continues onward about being a traveler by nature, and one who is looking for something, I find that I can’t help but almost hang on his words.
While I had missed home while I wandered about as a boy too young to really be adventuring, something else had settled into my heart while I was busy worrying about its ache – a lust for adventure, for new things, to learn and to see. That this man does precisely that makes my heart beat a little bit faster in my chest, my tail swish swaying behind me in abandon to the cheerful thought of being a vagabond of purpose, such as Raistlyn is.
"I was not at the Battle for the Riptide Isles," I include with some haste, not wanting to have my moment usurped by this chattering collection of hens, "but I was at three others. Perhaps I saw your niece?"
Or maybe I didn’t, and, even if I had, who’d say I’d remember her? Still, it would help add some concrete to my next suggestion, one that, if he was serious about travelling and being alone, would probably be shut down. I am always willing to try, if nothing else – I lost count of the times mother told me to go away around four hundred, and I have absolutely no emotional connection to this guy at all. He could tell me know in eighteen languages for all I’ll care.
The notion of a missing persons search, especially one which will reunite family, is one which greatly interests me – and, if I’d known the real reason we’d be hunting her down, I don’t think my enthusiasm for the matter would deteriorate in the least. Learning is learning, and whoever his niece is, I don’t know her, and don’t really care what becomes of her.
"Either way, I know Helovia, a traveler of sorts myself. I might be helpful to you in your search for her, if nothing else."
@Raistlyn @Alysanne @Ki'irha @Tangere @Essetia
SOMANYTAGS
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but the inch above the tip of your nose. |
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