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10-10-2016, 04:35 PM
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Mathèo I hear Jerusalem bells a-ringing, roman cavalry choirs are singing. Be my mirror, my sword and shield, my missionaries in a foreign field. [ONE HUNDRED YEARS LATER I REPLY. SHIT. SORRY.] Instantly Thèo spins on his cloven hooves, a look of genuine surprise in his pale eyes. The light around him intensifies with the increase of his heart beat, and for a moment, the motes of dust in the air around him are clearly visible. There is no fear there, however, for the boy's short life has given him no real reason to fear the unknown or the surprising. As his gaze finds another colt - one clearly older than he is - he visibly relaxes, a lopsided smile on his face. "Yeah." He agrees with a good-natured laugh. The light around him dims somewhat, back to the brightness that it was before he was disturbed. "I am Mathèo" He offers with an easy smile. His voice sounds as though it has a hint of an accent, but of course, the accent that it resembles is not one that he can possibly have. It sounds almost italian, and yet from the guttural sands upon which he has grown up, developing such pronunciation is absurd. Yet here he is, with a decided space between some of his syllables, and with his t's sounding like soft d's. "I have never been here before. Do you live here?" Thèo knows a little of geography. He knows that there are four main herd lands, but he also knows that there are many outcasts. Surely those outcasts have to live somewhere, and surely some of those outcasts are colts? There is nothing in all that he has learned thus far to suggest to him that his question is absurd. If anything, he wonders if he is perhaps intruding on the boy's bedroom. |
