Яikyn

I’d told him to shut up some time after he’d accused me of being heartless, and he had sarcastically obliged. Though I’ve tried to bring the conversation back into fruition, the ivy bedecked buck seems to have had enough of my attitude for the day, and has quite easily maintained utter silence towards me (both verbal and emotional) for well over ten minutes now.

The cavern into the warmth of the caverns looms ahead, a dark hole that Duir scampers ahead of me to, glancing from the depths to my golden eyes with what, I assume, anyway, is a wonder as to whether or not we are rejoining Mordecai, below. Despite having not really cared for the grouchy pegasus mare at first (mostly because she had threatened to use her magic, which sounded largely unpleasant, on him), the buck has found that he holds a certain fondness for the grumpy, quick to anger young woman. For one, she has no qualms telling me to shut the fuck up, or otherwise, and, for another, she had never actually hurt him.

No, I tell him flatly, but his forest eyes grow wide, and his looks down into the cavern become more insistent. With strides all the longer (just to be an ass), I intend to blow by him, and subsequently the entrance itself, and distracted by both my intent to piss him off, and thoughts of the malevolent magpie below, I don’t pick up on what he’s actually warning me about.

Someone is coming! he finally blurts mentally (and physically, his heinous deer-guffaw barking through the still air), breaking his silence way too late to be of any use to me. With an oomph! and an immediately cast glare at whoever the fuck has just run into me, the blue stone that had been in my mouth skitters across the red earth.

"For fucks sake, it’s you," I snap, scampering after the rock, with my muzzle low; the stone makes a sudden and unrealistic arc several feet from where it initially struck the red ground, and back across the sand it rolls, horribly, right to the old fart’s hooves. Watching the path of the object and scurrying madly, it’s perhaps too obvious that, whatever this peculiar rock is, there is more to it than just looking unusual. Why else would a grown ass warrior like me be chasing it around creation?

There isn’t enough time to use the magic on him before he can touch it. As it stutters to a halt at the elder’s knobby, arthritic ankles and hooves, I make a silent prayer to the Time God (who likely made the rock roll there in the first damn place), and stare at the blue stone as if my mind might control it, as it does flesh and bone: please, not him. Anyone but him. Just let him leave it the fuck alone, and I’ll pick it up, and I promise, I promise I will do whatever you want of me, anything…

[ OOC: MUAHAHAHA. Albrecht may fondle the rock at his leisure. ;D ]

there's no place to hide down here