| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 8 |
| M.E. |
....Did that hurt you...?
Icy eyes watched the ghostly Haruspex with apprehension within their crystalline depths; while Myrddin’s visage held all the trappings of contemplation, Sin was still somewhat embarrassed about his inability to process these things for himself. Did he not trust his own judgment?—perhaps not. Yet Myrddin didn’t seem disappointed or exasperated at all with Sin’s plight; indeed, the Old One, something Sin was relieved and pleased to see. Nevertheless, the dappled stallion was on tenterhooks waiting for the words that finally poured from the wrinkled, bearded maw:
*"Matters of the heart….are just that; pertaining to the heart. They bear no logical or rational relation to anything else, much less the alliances of your homeland...”*
Sin closed his eyes, listening as hard as he could at his Haruspex’s words. In this, he was of much of the same opinion—the very rational had already crossed his mind several times—and yet, every time he tried to tell himself this, his heart would grow sicker and even more painful, certain that he was wrong in some way. Hearing these words from his Haruspex was not only comforting, but actually seemed to do the trick; they penetrated some invisible barrier, some thin, transparent film or perhaps a pane of brittle glass that kept him from consoling himself. Now these words made sense. It was clarified that there wasn’t anything wrong with the dappled-one’s addled brain.
Sin kept quite however, and allowed the words that continued to spew forth from the Haruspex wash over Sin, letting them settle onto the void of his gaping mind and soothing every blister that festered and grew in his psyche. Then, however, the Haruspex said something that truly salved the wounds of Sin’s twisted heart:
*“…question not your allegiances or your duties, youngling. For you belong to me, and I am pleased with the progression of your studies. You are a scholar and a disciple, and need only remind yourself of that, should you feel that you have shirked your responsibilities."*
For some time now, Sin had lived within the vortex of unspoken, precarious tension that came with the return of the Frostheart; he lived with the ache of the pleasure pain in his heart for Tolio, and the confusion that came along with it whenever he considered the chestnut’s words and alliances. It was a vortex of emotion that Sin didn’t know how to feel and pain he didn’t know how to handle. It was a typhoon—no—a cyclone in the raging ocean that threatened to eat him with her salt and strip his bones and sanity of any life he had left. With Myrddin’s words, however, he was pulled from that cyclone, as though the Old One had lended a hand to that struggling Disciple and pulled him from the turbulent abyss. Sin opened his eyes abruptly, blinking rapidly at the sensation—the sensation of liberation. The vortex of confusion and hurt was still there, yes, but now that Sin had been pulled from it, it was no more than a laughable little thunderstorm, crackling in the horizon miles away from where the Haruspex and his Disciple stood. Sin had that very desire, to laugh in the face of the storm, such was his relief—but he contented himself to the slip of a few incredulous chuckles, his chest heaving with life-giving gasps of wonder and gratitude. The world had been shifted from his shoulders, the world was as certain as it had been, and he could breathe again.
“I…yes sir,” Sin said in low, reverent tones, dipping his head low in respect for his master—for he was well and truly Sin’s master. “Thank you, sir,” he added, the sincerity in his voice pure and uncensored.
“I do believe it is time for the Goddess of the Moon to restore my sight... Walk your teacher to the veins, won't you?"
Sin raised his head, regarding his master with interest and a faint sense of confusion. “The Veins, sir?” Sin asked, racking his brain for any prior knowledge to the location. Sin hadn’t heard much about the Veins in the past, although he remembered a few snippets he had heard here and there in passing; a place where mortals walked on liquid fire, to open their hearts to the golden souls of the Immortals that breathed life into them. His Haruspex wished to hold an audience with such beings? His curiosity was roused, surely—but Sin kept his counsel to himself, knowing his master would impart such knowledge to him if he deemed it necessary. In the meantime, however, his teacher needed him.
“Of course, sir,” Sin said, stepping forward to his master’s side, so that his shoulder was touching Myrddin’s wither. “It would be an honor to escort you there.”
(OOC: Sorry for the wait! D: )
...Forgive Me...
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