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06-09-2016, 01:10 PM
The former haruspex had left most of his belongings in the care of Rakt and some well hidden trees and walked towards the shrines, not sure of what (if anything) he might find there. He arrived and found there was little to pray for, and no clear God to pray to. He knew better than to interrupt the God of the Spark from whatever it was he did, and didn't want to see the immortal stag's face again for a little while anyway. He found himself standing silent, only brushing the moon goddess' broken idol before turning and walking quietly away.
The landbridge was long but narrower than Ashamin remembered. Mriga brushed against his side, safe in its sheath but itching for use. The haladie had seen little action since Ki'irha had gifted it to him, and served instead to be only a painful memory of their shattered friendship. Relationship. More than that, maybe less.
Whatever it was, Ashamin missed it. The remnants of it haunted him when he woke, as did other, even darker things. He had a past he couldn't leave behind, one made up of more than one body and more than one wound.
He wasn't exactly eager to up the count.
Then again... the sight of the mare in the distance, her sketch familiar even in the darkness, stirred some foolish old something in him. Lochan darted alongside and about him anxiously, somewhere between stopping him and egging him on. The small cerndyr had been quiet at the veins, not wanting to disturb the Gods, but with what they thought was a mortal standing before them he seemed more at ease. And it was true that both Ashamin and the little eye needed some exercise.
Ashamin picked up speed until he could more clearly make out the mare he'd once clashed with, if only briefly. She'd left respectfully, but their spar had been unfinished. When he tossed back his beaded head proudly, it was with a smile.
"You again! Care to pick up where we left off, mare?" His tone was congenial and his eyes were bright; though he immediately stood defensively and with his figure squared off to face her, he did not carry an air of hostility about him. The warm air had settled in his thick coat, and he was eager to shake it out. Lochan too, white eyes bright, looked forward eagerly.
""
ASHAMIN
PC: 0/3 | 0/1
WC: 400/800
Setting: Night on the landbridge leading to The Veins, closer to the veins than the shore. The sky is clear and the air is damp and warm, but a thunder and rain storm is on its way and could strike at any moment.
Notes: Go ahead and attack right away, @Aithniel!
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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