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04-26-2013, 08:08 PM
'We will aid you in whatever way we can.' It seemed he was not wrong when he assumed that Midas would be more than happy to help the ancient stag's plight. Apollo's honeyed orbs met the General's and he smiled in return, pleased at his words. Yes, Midas was one of a kind. If more could take example of this fine steed in front of him, then there would be less bloodshed and warfare. Wouldn't there? Apollo liked to think so. Turning his head back to their visitor, Apollo waited for Fina to show. He hadn't seen her during the invasion upon the Foothills, and knew that the young fire-dancer would probably have grown immensley since the last time he laid eyes upon her. That had been during their first encounter, Apollo realized, back in the muck-infested world of the Spectral Marsh when he and Midas had first crossed paths. My, how far they've both come since that day... Strangers-turned-brothers, it seemed, and Apollo regret nothing. 'I am grateful.' The statement unfurled from the ancient one's lips, and there was no hiding the appreciative tones from his voice. The Earth Medic watched as his posture seemed to relax, as if a heavy burden was lifted from weary shoulders, and it filled the monochromatic stallion with a strange sort of pleasure that he and Midas could be of assistance. Now, hopefully they would be able to help his ailing daughter... Not long after did Fina arrive, introducing herself with a sharp cry and an entrance suitable for a queen, dancing upon the flames that burned within her tiny chest. There would never be a time where Apollo grew tired of witnessing Fina's glory, for truly, a fire-dancer like her was a true sight to behold. This world was filled with magics that were beyond Apollo's knowledge, and while he had been granted with one, there were thousands more that weren't meant for him to understand. With a smile at Fina as she came to rest upon Midas' painted hip, Apollo's expectant gaze turned back to the stag. 'Follow me, brothers.' With those words the stag moved to lead them towards their destination, brushing past Apollo and glancing his side with those strange, webbed wings. The sensation caused the Paint's hide to twitch, but not unpleasantly... It was almost soothing, the touch like water, and contrary to Apollo's fear of the liquid, this installed nothing but a strange peace of mind. No... No harm would come of him here, in the presence of Midas and this mystery stag. Here, he was safe, with equal brothers of the flesh. Dutifully Apollo followed, his steps light, certain that Midas was doing the same. They passed by the bubbling stream, hooves sinking into the softer soil of the stream bank, but not once did Apollo stray from the task at hand. He and Midas both had an important part to play in this. Soon, though, they ran out of ground to walk upon, and it was with growing curiosity that Apollo watched the ancient stag before them. Ears snapped forward at the gutteral noise, looking to Midas in confusion, but he remained quiet. No, it was best to simply let the older creature do as he was doing... Honey-brown eyes widened in surprise, however, when the strangest of things manifested before them. Where there was once air now stood a strange kind of walkway, that circled around the side of the mountain. It was... A path? But how? There were so many things that Apollo found he wanted to ask, but respectfully he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to make a fool of himself. Instead, he followed, albeit hesitantly. After all, it wasn't every day that one saw a path materialize off the ledge of a cliff. Down, down, down they traveled, and passing through a door, they reached their destination, and Apollo's eyes soaked in everything. This was... Amazing. Never, in all of his wildest dreams, would he have ever imagined such a place like this to exist. This land was darker than the life of Helovia, yes, but it was oh so beautiful. The trees, Apollo noted with unending joy, glowed silver in the darkness, and he could almost feel the whispers and life that emitted off of them. He wanted to pause, to stop and speak with these magnificent trees and hear what they had to whisper and tell, but alas... He and Midas were here for a reason. Guided as they were by the ancient stag, Apollo stepped hesitantly into the clearing, gentle eyes immediately taking form of the hunched creature that lay precariously inside the embrace of the copse of trees. Was this... The ancient one's daughter? But... This creature looked like a rabbit, with peculiar horns protruding from her tiny head and those same, webbed wings upon her tender back. She was unlike anything that Apollo had seen before, but it didn't matter. If she needed the aid, he would do his best to provide it. Confusion was short lived, and Apollo ventured closer, head lowering as he examined the young jackelope. "Poisoned...?" He whispered in surprise, his eyes flicking back upwards to meet the suddenly vivid, green gaze of the ancient stag, "Poor thing... I... I'll do what I can for her, sir, I promise." During his time with his magic, Apollo had healed a multiple of different wounds; strained muscles, broken bones, harsh gashes... But never had he healed one who was poisoned. There was no reason, however, that he would doubt his gift. Focusing once more upon the poisoned child, Apollo gently brushed his velvety muzzle against her side, feeling the jackelope's soft, downy fur tickle his nose. "Peace, child," he murmured, simply wanting the jackelope to know that he meant no harm, "Your father brought us here to help..." Whether or not she would even understand his words, Apollo wasn't sure, but he wanted to do what he could to be reassuring. Turning his head to the side, Apollo dug his horn into the dirt, twisting and turning his neck to make sure that enough soil coated the crystalline tip. He allowed his eyes to fall shut, and his breathing to steady, recalling that peaceful moment in the forest when the phantom-stag had bestowed this very magic upon him... A brief smell of rain and dirt permeated the air, and delicately, as one would touch a newborn baby, Apollo pressed the tip of his horn against the jackelope's side. To any who listen, Apollo thought to himself, sending this prayer in his thoughts, Please let this gift of mine spare this child... |
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