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As we have watched him pass these years in stoic and justified loneliness, leaving the past where most would carry as a burr on their hocks, we have come to know him. We have come to watch him fall asleep as the sun rises, for the star in the sky beguiled him with their wonder win Earth lacked such. Those eyes have seen too much and that spirit as hurt and been hurt, yet he is justified as he sets with the sunrise as though a toddler in need of rest. We seek him out to wonder how such a gloomy past can be negated by such a will to exist and thrive and understand. We watch, always wondering if there are floodgates that will break, or if he does not lock the past away as a dam to avoid the pain. Does he feel it at all, or has he come to terms with it and released like a dove with a newly mended wing?
The movements were rigid, if effortless and fluid, as his hooves rose above the tufts of grass and dragged his body forward. It was almost elegant; the way he disregarded his actions and the scene that surrounded him. The silence deafened the air and defeated all purpose and thought. It was almost as if muscle memory was they only thing that drove him. His blue eyes held no focus, aimlessly drawing over the path ahead, containing a gloss that seemed to reflect the melancholy that captured him. The rays of light that escaped the canopy above, danced across his nearly black pelt of brown and turned the white that stoles bits of his body into pearl shells. His frame dragged onward, as if there was no destination in mind. He was not mulling over the past or thinking toward the future. In fact, he could not really determine what his thoughts lingered on. They jumped in a frazzled disarray, over various shrubs as though the minutest details were suddenly sirens blasting in his mind.
His pink lips twitched at the thought, twisting into the oddest wisp of a smile, before reverting to the thin line that spoke neither amusement of disaffect. It was a rare thing to have a day like this. Where his mind was not preoccupied with what purpose he should make his own. Duty had always been something of a need in his life. From his birth he had been given a role to play; a purpose, so to speak. He had always had something that was his to see to. Now that purpose was a thing of the past, he lived his life in the odd blend of curiosity and desperation. He was curious of the land around him and the odd creatures that inhabited. Yet, he was desperate for a purpose. A cause of his own to strive toward. Somehow the trials and tribulations of his past had not deterred his will. He couldn't understand it in the least, and hoped that he would never lose it in the future. Though, as desperate as he thought himself, he lingered on the cusp of indecision. Should he simply exist in the curiosity and wonder of this new world he had discovered beyond his childhood kingdom? Or would he always return to that need that had been ingrained on him since birth. That desire to do something noteworthy with his life had always been a part of him. Could it play second fiddle to curiosity?
His body slowed until he stood just between a set of trees that rose up and loomed high above, blocking out the rays of light that had sprinkled him before. He had aimlessly drawn to a place that he had come to know as the cross-roads. Where people decided to become a part of something or to remain by themselves. It baffled him that he had unwittingly brought himself to such a place, just as he had been debating the subject in his mind. Once again, the subconscious was turning out to be quite a cunning attribute his. He drew his head up and flicked his ears to attention quite promptly. Always aware of his surroundings, this had been a place he had avoided for as long as possible. He know that some would come to sway him with their different causes and plights. He also knew that some would hope he was a fool and try to drag him into the mess of things he knew lay beyond the Threshold. His travel wary body seemed as though fresh from sleep just as suddenly as he realized what possible threats might present themselves.
In truth, he had no idea what to expect. He was no prize to be won. He had no power or connections that would make him a worthy prospect. These equine probably new nothing of his reputations and would see him as no more than a rank filler. Some to throw on the front line of battle or a worthy babysitter of sorts. As distasteful as it was, he had to prepare for the possibility that no one would come forward and that he would not be wanted at all. That might have bothered him, was he not fully capable of living a life of solitude. He had never been the chatty sort, and he would have no need of a group that had no need of him. Perhaps it would be best for him to prepare for the prospect of solitude. It was not exactly a bad idea. Settling into himself, his muscles rolled beneath the fine dark pelt that draped them, pressing upward in anticipation of what might come.
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| Outcast atk: 5.0 | def: 8 | dam: 6.0 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.3HH :: 7 HP: 64.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Romul :: Arctic Wolf :: Confusion
Linds |
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She danced as though in unison with the forest’s fragrant song, her sweet step finally making sense to the callous grounds below. She had aged, grown older and bloomed into a beautiful representation of her father’s high expectations… She was a flowering youth so full of life and reason; a real tragedy in every sense of the word.
With Romul close behind, the princess weaved her way through the trees of the claiming grounds in high hopes that the shadows would reveal some sliver of happiness, some definition of meaning that had been so unclear to her as of late. She moved with growing ease and practiced grace, though only as fast as her small companion would allow. At times she resented the wait involved in toting the small pup around at her heels, but the love they shared was evident and though such a small strain would be cured with time, there were days when the two would quarrel in high-pitched squeals and yelps.
When the pair finally paused in order to rest, Essetia bent her small nose to the pale white wolf pup- she gave a soft kiss of appreciation that appeared to soothe both parties after such a journey. However, they did not indulge in such an embrace for lnog because the little princess was suddenly intrigued by something far more prevalent to her cause.
His scent was strong and foreign which made him all the more curious to the badger-faced filly. But she’d yet to lay eyes on the beholder of such an outlandish perfume and perhaps she was hesitant to seek him out, but of course, her youth and her lack of experience pushed her onward when most would have thought to turn back. Even Romul, who nipped cautiously at the filly’s hocks when she slowed, seemed a bit weary when it came to approaching the stallion that lay just ahead now.
He was beautiful to the girl, so mysterious and unknown… If she had known any better she would have announced herself, she would have alerted him to her presence… But she did nothing of the sort and so she moved closer, her face drawn inward as though she were a shy invalid. Little did her company know that she was actually a clever youth, so bright and smart and charming (perhaps a little too charming).
As Romul began to whine in reluctance to the girl’s bold actions, she stopped to lace a hardened gaze on the pup in order to quiet him. She saw the longing and worry within his deep brown eyes and still she was not deterred, still she was persistent. “Are you lost or just confused?” Her voice was soft, a bare whisper, but still so strong that one might believe her to be twice her age. There was no hesitance in her tune, only confidence and understanding… She was wise beyond her young years.
Slowly Romul came beneath her, winding himself between her hooves to rest there until he felt safe enough to nod off while they waited. Both were uncertain and yet impervious to the consequences of approaching one so unknown to them. But that made them all the more approachable, more perceptible to the evils of an engineering mind. However, one could never assume so much when it came to the claiming grounds…
The princess only hoped that this was a kindred spirit and not something dark and evil out of the fairytales her father used to tell her. | |
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Credits!
OOC| Sorry, I haven't broken her out in a while so forgive me while I get settled into her personality again. ;P
◄ Please tag Essetia in all replies!
◄ Force permitted, but no maiming or killing
◄ Pixel @ SongsOfInfinity
Trotting at a fast pace, her strong, tall body gracefully swaying side to rhythm of each hoof beat, the white fae made her way through tall grass. It was time to enter the forest that was starting to grow on her, in a good way, alluring her to come everyday. Swishing her golden brown tail, Accalia fought to make it through the tall grass that was on the fringes of the Threshold forest. At last, she made it out of the weeds grasp, plunging into the forest she treasured so greatly now a days. Glad that the plant's grasp was no longer over her, she fluidly moved through the woods, shining bright white with the light filtering down from the canopy shielding her. Now the fae truly did look like a ghost traveling in the serene forest.
There was a point where everything seemed to quiet down. Not a single sound was heard, no chirps from the birds, not a rustle of leaves caught in the wind. It was deathly silent. Slightly unerved by this, Accalia slowed down her fast pace, watchfully looking at everything around her. It felt...different. But the silence was cut short with the birds were back to their joyful songs, though it was far from the time of Birdsong.
Flicking her ears forwards, the fae started drifting off into a dreamland where everything worked out for her. Shutting her red brown eyes, she dream about herself and the Assassins being out in fields of green, splattered with flowers here and there, surrounded by a slight breeze curling their manes and tail. In that picture, they were smiling and carefree with not a care in the world. It was beautiful. The peacefulness, no violence to be seen. It was Accalia's dream come true.
Now her thoughts focused on more important matters. What about the World's Edge? She had heard that Ignita was still held prisoner by the horses. Accalia had also met two of the members, and watched the fight unfurl between the two male stallions and the leader of their band. Though she was devoted to the group, Assassins, she felt no hatred towards the World's Edge. They had never wronged her, just the girl's herd, and the fae was not the type to start fights despite her short temper.
Approaching a place where the trees grew thicker, and their high tops covered the sky completely, the ghostly fae sensed another near. Inhaling a scent of another, the youthful girl approached them with kind, bright eyes. A voice sounded from the youthful filly, a mere whisper yet powerful and strong. With another polite glance, she softly spoke, yet with the same power that the filly possessed. "Hello, I am Accalia of the Assassins", she flicked her tail nervously, awaiting a reply from either of them. She felt it too early to invite either of them to the Assassins band.
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