ask no questions

Weaver has never been one for sleeping much. She does sleep, of course, it’s a necessary thing for survival. But she sleeps as little as possible, preferring to prowl through the evenings, just in case something exciting happens. Most of the Basin seems to end up in some cave or another, nowhere to be found at night, but Weaver prefers to wander. To study the stars when the nights are slow, or try to find the places and the times when she can actually fly over the mountain (basically impossible, but she tries anyway). She has, on occasion, managed to slingshot herself around in the wind, which is possibly the most fun thing, but she doesn’t make a habit of it.

When she does rest, she usually stays beneath Raven’s favorite tree. He rarely likes going into caves, though on occasion he’ll follow her into the cave near his tree. But she prefers to stay with Raven, and some evenings, she simply joins him in his nest, the two snuggling in together for an uncommon evening of sleep. But tonight she is wide awake, and even Raven is restless, so they both set off, Weaver sticking to horse form for now. She’s not sure what their plan is for the night. Perhaps some more mountain flying. In the rain. She’s had stupider ideas…

But then, she catches sight of another horse by the hot springs. He’s black, and the only thing that gives her a clue is the gleam of green. Mortuus. She’d assume it’s him between the black coat and the green gem on his horn. But something seems different, she just can’t make out what from this far away. So she makes her way over, curious, wondering if someone else was here and just happened to look a hell of a lot like the Time Mender.

As she closes the distance, she quickly see’s it’s definitely Mortuus. And what’s different becomes obvious as well. He bleeds freely from cuts all along his body, and for a moment she finds herself vaguely worried, which is a strange emotion at best for her. She pauses, but Raven fills the silence, cawing in the direction of the Time Mender. He’d heal himself if he needed, wouldn’t he?

“Mortuus?” she says, her voice uncharacteristically quiet, though perhaps it’s just because she doesn’t want to disturb the peace of the evening. But it’s hardly a peaceful evening with the rain pattering against the ground, the sky threatening to open up on the only two crazies out in weather like this. “This is probably a stupid question,” she begins, sounding more like herself, “but are you okay?”

- weaver -

and you'll be told no lies