the Rift

[PRIVATE] broken brights

Reichenbach Posts: 62
Dragon's Throat Guardian atk: 5 | def: 7.5 | dam: 7.0
Stallion :: Equine :: 17hh :: 8 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
[Image: n6qgeo.jpg]

The evening was cool for Tallsun, a briskness laying in the air that no doubt came from the North and the Basin. It chilled his mahogany skin silently, running fingers of cold down over the shape of him, the bulk of his shoulders and the roughness of his bones tingling with it's lingering touch. A small, slowly burning fire murmured next to him in the night, sending embers and sparks flying upward on invisible wings, winking out of sight moments after their escapades. The fire provided warmth, for he had kept it running on small twigs and the occasional large log until mostly coals remained, burning almost blue and radiating their heat outward to encompass his hefty frame. It was close to midnight, and the Guardian of the Throat lay with his legs tucked underneath him, near to the fire for he had no cloak to keep him warm. The stars were icy and distant above, watching over the kind-hearted stallion as they always had, keeping him company on the long, lonely nights.

He was venturing North again on his way to the Basin to see Tiamat and hopefully Toulouse, of whom he could not shake from his head. It wasn't often his feelings were divided, for he was a passionate man of single direction - it just so happened that the two were in the same direction. A warm, slow breath left his throat, wavering the small flames next to him briefly as he cast his silver eyes upward to the stars. A slow, mellow tune filled his mind and body as he watched them, warmed by his flames and comfortable in his loneliness within the Deep Forest. It was sweet and eerie, and it consumed him completely as he listened within his head, feeling the ebb and flow of the music through his blood and bones. First, he began to hum the tune, setting the melody within his mind. His voice was deep and baritone, something mystical and strange in the cold, bright night. Then came the words, summoned from some deep recess within him, a haunting melody roughened by the husky tones of his melodic voice;

"Is that the old man walking in the dark?

Take me home where them broken brights
Are shining down, make me feel alright
When we were young
When we were young

Is that the old man walking in the dark?
Is that the old man walking in the dark?

Shake them bones let me lost tonight
We'll grow young make me feel alright
When we were young
When we were young

Is that the old man walking in the dark?.."

... and the night continued, quiet and watchful, listening.


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