of recoil and grace

the Rift

[OPEN] of recoil and grace

Ru'in Posts: 39

Outcast

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.3 :: 0 - Birdsong

Odd

#10

01-02-2017, 03:21 PM

So come out of your cave walking on your hands
And see the world hanging upside down

Ru'in had no real business turning up at ... well, at whatever this was.

He was no active contributor to his homeland. In fact, it seemed that he and his twin had spent more of their lives exploring the world than they had in the Basin. His mother was the lead of these lands for Gods sake, and yet nothing seemed to tether him here.

Then again, nothing seemed to tether him anywhere. Not with Romina more often away from his side, than at it.

Still..

The boy huffed. Despite his massive size for his age, there was something entirely youthful about his expression, especially as it fell upon those who had gathered. Their solemn faces, their weepy eyes. It made Ru'in pause, and his gaze lingered a great deal longer upon Deimos' lifeless body than he might have guessed. He liked the Reaper, even though the man had turned him down in the past, when he had asked for a promotion. Though he thought being too young was a pitiful reason not to be given a job, especially when the Basin was in dire need of a weaver who knew what they were doing, he still respected him.

But now he was gone, and it was as if Ru'in was only just now learning what that sort of finality was really like.

The tusked boy exhaled, wanting to say something to impart his gratitude and appreciation for all that the Reaper had done, but found that the words felt stale and small on his tongue. It was Romina who was good with words, not he. But she was nowhere to be found. Not even his mother was here yet, though he assumed that he would be.

A small bronzey figure shimmered into life; a symphony of spinning gears and intricate pieces that slipped and slid passed and between one another. Ru'in wanted to create something to commemorate the Reaper but ... The bronze fell flatly on the ground, disappearing into a rust-coloured dust as the boy let his magic go.

He was no artist. He didn't know what he was doing. He didn't even know how to grieve properly.

"Sohree." Ru'in mumbled through tusked lips.