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Time was passing, yet slowly. The sun lingered longer than Hasovir had calculated earlier and the humidity was still pressing on. White crystals of salt began to harden along the outlines of Hasovir’s dampened patches of sweat. The pounding in his head was muted now, if at most a dull thud every 5 minutes or so. The stallion listened to Ashamin’s story – how he pledged work to the “God of Spark” and taught himself to fight. Hasovir had mixed feelings about the “gods” but kept silent. Ashamin went on to say it was nice being in the presence of a warrior. This almost made Hasovir speak up, however he bit his tongue. ‘If only you knew what type of warrior was in your presence, Ashamin.’ Hasovir was positive that was his own, individual thought, as he could feel a small fire beginning to burn deep within him. That comment created something dark inside Hasovir, and he almost began to speak again, until Ashamin continued once more. Hasovir could feel this flame within him growing, a spark at a time. He was unsure why it was happening, but could imagine it had something to do with the fact that this stag wanted to band outcasts together. Hasovir did not expect this stranger to be the leader type. He could see that in his stature he had combatant potential, but to be a leader? Well… souls were often surprising so perhaps Hasovir should continue to keep his opinion to himself.
The light snack Hasovir devoured kept his hunger down with about 25% effectiveness. When the brute was wavering earlier and stumbled, he did not even think about what Ashamin’s thoughts were. Mainly because Hasovir did not lose sleep over others’ opinions. He knew it was all due to the voices, their now hushed tones lapping at Hasovir’s synapses desperately trying to crash through to him. Hasovir kept silent for a while, even after Ashamin offered his deal. “Train with me” – this made Hasovir want to barf. A once resilient, ruthless militant leader “training” again? Unnecessary. It was clear Hasovir was not as strong as he once was, the years alone without using his muscles for battle would obviously take a toll on his stature. Naturally thin with lean muscles, many would assume the stallion could not take a single hit on the battlefield; but this was not the case. Hasovir could move swiftly and hit harder. His sharp tongue gave him an upper hand, confusing opponents with wit and then slicing their throats directly after. Yes, it had been years since his last war so maybe he was not as quick as he once was. Perhaps training is what he needed…and yet. Hasovir compared the options in his mind, as if an actual scale was weighing the pros and cons of the decision.
He exhaled noiselessly and met his deep sapphire optics to Ashamin’s dark ones. “While your offer is generous,” he began, glancing down at Rakt, his twin pools now lost in the small deer’s scarlet coat, “I decline.” It was anti-climactic at best. He kept it short. He kept it simple, always. He felt no need to explain himself and no need to defend his answer. At this, Hasovir stepped out of the brook and up onto the land from which Ashamin came from. He kept his mouth shut tight, an expression-less face like the one he had when he entered Helovia, and his listeners slightly turned backwards. He started walking into the shorter shrubbery that was surrounding them, noticing some purple thistles which he dexterously plucked the flowers from while avoiding their sharp, prickling thorns. His lion’s tail slapped the right side of his bodice, giving a close hit to a nagging deer fly that flew up and eventually disappeared. The sweet taste of buds made Hasovir’s mouth water and he continued to snag a few more thistle blossoms before pivoting back to face the side of Ashamin. He noted the kindness that so effortlessly emitted itself from Ashamin; his presence was calming and his demeanor seemed strictly in good nature. A slight sense of guilt was kicking up dirt in Hasovir’s heart and he was not entirely sure why but he disregarded this just like he was the voices, if not more easily.
Hasovir’s ivory colored maw, now slightly stained from the vibrant purple blossoms parted once again, “I will not forget the benevolence you have expressed towards me, Ashamin.” Silence, and then, “Perhaps our paths will cross at another time.” His nape was outstretched, his pillars all showing their length. He tipped his cranium towards the sky and observed the melting sun, its course towards the earth had begun and the buzzing cicadas seemingly grew louder. The temperature may have been dropping but the humidity lingered in the air, Hasovir’s once dampened hocks and fetlocks had already dried. His optics fell back on that fascinating moonstone entwined in Ashamin’s twisted, fallen horn. Feeling that tranquil sense of assurance from it he said, “I consider you an ally. I hope you feel the same.” Hasovir thought this over after he had spoken it out loud and he decided that, yes, he did consider Ashamin as an ally. The blood chestnut stallion felt it was best for him to be unaided still. It was not the time to engage in group acts just yet, although he had been alone for many moons. Something within him was insistently pushing him towards another quest at the moment – and this was not it.
ooc: table trouble again... I'm over it >:(
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