What is HOME

[OPEN] What is HOME

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

06-08-2017, 09:19 AM

next mother fucker gonna get my metal

Duir is watching the archway from a stone overhang which overlooks the fore of the valley. The late afternoon casts the entryway into the valley in golden light, the long shadows of the falling Sun reaching in from the west, in a black, jagged line that suddenly swallows the golden radiance of that which is illuminated; the Sentinels, bronze and gleaming, casting bright beams from their rounded figures, and the deer, as much as he is keeping an eye out for arrivals, particularly strangers, watches those radiant beacons dance on the snow, where they are bold enough to reach.

The movement of a dark figure draws his eyes, though, and upon realizing he doesn’t know the mud covered stranger, he projects the image into my mind, with a rude abruptness, his voice ushering in behind it softly: wake up.

I’d been dreaming, the sun warm on my back, and the tendrils of the hot springs reach across my dark skin; with bleary blinks, I look towards the archway, and grumble, stretching each limb in turn, before arching my neck and back with rolling gestures that rouse pops and a pleasurable groan. Even as I burst forward at an easy gallop, though, the dream lingers, teasing me with the images that are there, seemingly easily grasped, but, like smoke, dance out of the way when I reach for them.

There isn’t time to wonder further, however, the well traveled paths of the Basin leading me swiftly to the fore of the land, and the stranger huddled near the pine wood. Glancing for others as I ease back to a canter, my buck joins me with bounding steps, and we both come to a bouncy stop not far from the rather dirty individual in the shade of the trees.

"Afternoon," I greet, wondering if it really is so, or if this hour is technically the evening, but not dwelling on it long; with a casual inspection of the follow, I find him hornless, and wingless, which draws, most immediately, a frown to my lips. Another? Is my immediate thought, but Duir, warily watching alongside me, quietly asserts that your feelings don’t matter. So, I do my best to see what else there is – which is mud, a lot of it – and two differently colored eyes peering out from that filth slaked skin. Blind in one, maybe? I wonder. Putting on my leadership smile, I continue on. "I am Lord Rikyn, and this is my companion, Duir."

Looking about for his escorts, and finding none, I try, instead, to place him in the history of this land; had he been here before? I wonder, but can’t recall him. With a brow rising quizzically, I add a question:

"You found your way here on your own?"