| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
Once more, the moon had risen in the sky, and once more Murdock had risen to meet it. He felt lost if he was not close to its light, for it was the only light save the curious ‘lanterns’ that had appeared within the trees. Taking flight from the floor of the valley in the Foothills, he had blindly set a course south, following nothing but curiosity and running only from his boredom. Too often he had gone north to explore the Heavenly Fields or the bleak expanse of the Steppe. But not tonight. Now, he would see what wonders the south of Helovia held for him.
He touched down lightly upon a bed of curled grass in the Meadow, wearily letting his weight fall onto the soles of his hooves. The earth was soft and damp beneath his feet, but it did little so soothe the ache in his legs. How long had he stood on the stone edge of his cliff? How long had he looked out into the darkness waiting for a hint of light to break the mask of black? Far too long. His vigil had gone unrewarded, save the tree-lights that haunted him with their blank stares of pale blue, and the moon that gazed down at him like a bright, pupil-less eye. And now, he was done with waiting. He was done expecting the light would come to him. He would just have to go find it.
Evidently, it was not in the Thistle Meadow. In fact, there was little in the meadow save the hollow song of the wind through the skeletal branches of trees and the silence left in the absence of songbirds. It was a change of scenery, though, and perhaps that's all he needed to smooth the folds in his sanity and set his head straight. He had spent what felt like an eternity within the shadows of the Foothills, lingering beneath the mountains and catching glimpses of the moon as he walked beneath the trees. There was little left there for him now, though. Everyone had left.
This empty field held just as much promise as the ‘home’ he had left behind. However, he was not satisfied with what he saw quite yet; there had to be more than just wilted grass and glowing fungus here. A few swaying steps forward lead him to the bubbling edge of a stream, which trailed off into the shadows beneath the glowing eyes that hung in the branches. Casually, he stepped into it, feeling the cold sting of the water as he sunk up to his fetlocks in the soft streambed.
He welcomed the numbing coolness, gritting his teeth as the water swelled up around his knees and gently lapped at his belly the further he stepped into it. He raised his wings away from the water, holding them poised at his sides as if afraid to get them wet. The fluorescent tips of his feathers reflected upon the subtle ripples in the stream’s surface as he walked, the liquid parting about his body as he pushed against the current. The pain that he felt was oddly satisfying as he gradually lost feeling in his limbs, violent shivers causing his muscles to tremble.
He was completely absorbed in his mindless task, his gaze downcast and focused on the faint light of his hooves through the darkness of the water. He did not notice, nor did he care to notice, the presence of someone else alongside the stream’s edge, until he stood before the strange creature. He caught sight of a pair of dark hooves out of the corner of his eye, and with a lopsided smile he raised his head to look at her. His smile does not last long, however, and quickly it fades from his lips.
He studied her face in silence for a moment, taking in her striking amber eyes and sharp features. For a second, he forgets the searing cold that swarms his lower body, and his manners disappear from his mind along with it. At first glance, she would appear plain and unremarkable, but his gaze is moved to the curve of her lips. The line of her mouth is not smooth nor straight, but jagged like the teeth of a monster. His mouth opens, but all that escapes from it is a trembling breath.
“Good evening,” he begins slowly, dipping his head politely and drawing his gaze away from her mouth. “Or, perhaps it is morning. One can never tell these days,” he laughs slightly, but his voice trembles as his muscles quiver. The bank of the stream to his right is steep and muddy, but where she stands it is shallow and dry. He considers remaining in the stream, not wanting to shoulder past her, but he fears if he stands in the water much longer he will turn to ice. “Excuse me,” he mutters softly, stepping forward and pulling himself into the cool air, though he can hardly feel the movement of his legs.
Unbalanced and shivering, he lowers the down of his wings against his sides and spreads his feathers out to shield his body from the gentle breeze. He turns to face her, shaking the droplets of water from the curls of his mane as liquid streams down his legs. “It was colder than I had expected,” he shrugged slightly, nodding toward the water. “Never been one for swimming, anyways”. Thankfully, most of the chill had been removed from the air with the arrival of Birdsong, but in the absence of sunlight, it still held little warmth. “What’s your name?” He asked, hoping the semblance of a normal conversation would mask his insanity.
"talk talk talk"
If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?
|
|
Image Credit
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
