Might as well do something

[OPEN] Might as well do something

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549

Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT

Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie

03-11-2017, 02:33 PM

It’s almost easier to ignore her wings than I would like it be, a reminder of why it was the world was no longer perfect, and why no one seemed to care. Though I still remembered Vaelenne’s teachings, and her kind, gentle eyes, it’s grown more and more difficult to feel the conviction that I felt then, in the reaching awes of the cavern of the Starpool. It’s easier to be like the unicorns who allowed hybrids of our great lineage to exist, to be the man who sees the soul within, and not the defilement of its very existence by the form holding it.

Looking at her through the rise and swirl of the mist, I think of how she will be denied entry into any existence greater than this, for the simple truth of her birth, if what the old Priestess, and the spirits in their pool, had told me was true. I also wonder, however, what sort of cruel God would continually punish those who could change nothing of the past or their reality, being, ultimately, mortal and incapable. I wonder, too, what will become of me, thinking of another pretty girl, who is black, and white, and wears wings.

She didn’t even have a horn, like this mare.

And just what did that mean for me, now?

I look away from this inner turmoil to listen to what the stranger says, smiling faintly when she admits to the difficulty of the slopes as well. Though she could have flown, her wings seemingly whole and useful, she hadn’t, and I notice that truth almost immediately. Was she simply of the mindset that putting one hoof before the other made one strong, and deepened their endurance? Or was there, perchance, some hope that the old laws of my land ruled on, and she was afraid?

"We are Rikyn, and Duir," I remark, my buck lifting his head to nod at the mare and her Raven as I name him; a smirk tilts my lips, one which I’m sure she gets. Surely she’s heard often enough that her name is a very real job here. From the look of her, though, she doesn’t make cloth; she makes bruises. "Our companions share a distaste for at least this pool then. He is greatly skeptical when it comes to the general safety of bubbling lakes, no matter how much I’ve assured him."

My proud companion defensibly lifts his head, before moving away from the pool all together, disliking his worries being voiced aloud so openly, and without his permission; the physical distances he has begun to allow between us is a new development, the longer we've lived in the Basin, and one that I don't mind all that much. Something about the sight of the mountains rising around us makes him feel more secure, I guess, or the fact that he already knows the land as if he has always been here, having stolen the maps from my mind. He moves out towards the wood, perhaps in search of the wild elk, again.

"You are not from Helovia?" I assume, because she is from the mountains, by her own proclamation, and I don't know her at all. I might occasionally wander off for extended periods, but I'm almost sure I would remember her living here, if she had been born beneath these peaks, as I had. I certainly had forgotten none of the others I'd been raised alongside.