| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
04-13-2013, 12:28 AM
(This post was last modified: 04-13-2013, 01:49 AM by Murdock.)
Her presence was silent, warm, and calming. Despite the chill of the bitter wind against his skin, he found the Steppe to be pleasant despite the storm that raged around them. The shelter of his wing provided a barrier between their faces and the swirling snow, his feathers brushing against her neck and withers as he ducked his head closer to hers. Her voice brought him back from the haze of his mind to reality, his eyes meeting hers with bright smile upon his lips. "A meeting? Oh, we'll see. He's awfully busy, you know," he teased with a broad grin, emerald eyes searching her face for the feelings she hid well behind the blackness of her eyes. What was this new emotion that welled up in the depths of his chest? Why did it feel so foreign, and yet at the same time so right?
Her question seemed so sudden, yet it was something he had expected to hear. Of course she would wonder, as many had, just who he had been before it all changed. His expression soured for a moment, reluctance evident in his eyes. It was hard for him to think about his past, though it had trailed him every step of the way and followed in his footsteps like a persistent shadow. He dipped his head to look at her, a hesitant smile forming on his lips.
"Who was I?" He repeated the question slowly in thought, pondering the immensity of the question. He had been someone entirely different from the Murdock who stood before her today, yet ever so similar. He had been as close to 'normal' as one could get for some time, but his fate had quickly changed its mind. "I was...an heir of sorts in my father's fleet," he began with a slight shrug. His status had technically been one of royalty, though it had never felt that way to him.
"I was trained to fight since I could walk. It was simply the way things were run at home. I didn't ever like it; hurting others, I mean. But..." he sighed slightly, his eyes tracing the outline of the mountains in the distance. "Things changed when my father was killed. I don't like to think of myself as particularly vengeful, but then I knew I had to try my hardest to protect what I had left. Then I was captured...and that's when things really changed."
His gaze became distant as he recalled his final moments of freedom before his imprisonment. Various sorts of magic had erupted from the sky around him, flashing in millions of colours throughout the dark of night until his vision was filled with smoke. He had strayed off course, the edges of the cliffs no longer visible beneath his faintly glowing hooves as he descended into darkness. The thick cloud dissipated as he dropped lower toward the trees, and just as a familiar landmark came into view and he became aware of his location, it was too late to turn back.
That's when they captured him. A great weight had slammed into his side, a flash of iridescent blue streaking across his vision as he tumbled down toward the jagged shoreline. His wings had tangled with his legs, fighting to straighten out and catch his falling body. But he was hit again, and twice more, until the land and sky blurred together and he could no longer tell up from down. His landing had been soft, surprisingly enough, though he had not been conscious when he hit the ground.
The next time he opened his eyes, he was lying on the rocks, bloody and bruised, with five stallions standing over him. They had escorted him back to the south, where he was imprisoned in a dark cell for God knows how many months. His condition, of both body and mind, had deteriorated to near death and insanity. A curious stroke of luck was all that had saved him, but though his body had healed, his mind seemed to have been less fortunate.
He blinked hard, his eyes refocusing on the plain white of the Steppe as if he had just woken from sleep. The fog of his memories had claimed his attention for an unknown span of time, and he offered an apologetic smile to Chernobyl. He took a deep breath of the cool air, feeling his lungs swell to the point of pain and the oxygen numb his body from the inside out. "I was targeted as a ranking officer and singled out to be captured. They ambushed me when I was driven off course...They kept me in the dark for so long."
A distant smile returned to his lips, and he tipped his chin back down to look at her. "They gradually let their guard down with a childish, unthreatening creature like me, and soon enough I was able to escape their grasp. I fled to the southern beaches to heal before coming to Helovia. I miss my mother, but I imagine there's a hefty price on my head and I think it's too pretty to sell, don't you?" He turned to meet her gaze, his face void of emotion save the hint of a smile in his eyes.
"And you?" He asked tentatively, his voice quiet as if he was afraid to voice the question. He touched his muzzle to her neck, his warm breath misting across her skin in a comforting gesture. He had seen the darkness in her eyes too many times, and he would understand if she didn't want to speak. He would always be there for her, though, he could promise her that. Regardless of his ties to the Foothills and her ties to the Basin and whatever other organization she was a part of, he would always find the time to visit; he wasn't sure how long he could go without her smiles, so rare upon her lips that each time is was a reward he felt undeserving of.
"talk talk talk"
Wind me up, put me down
Start me off and watch me go
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[O] Blood Stains on the Snow [Snö, Open]
