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Far and Gone - Raglan - 06-21-2018 He knew better. Raglan had left his home to wander about some faraway islands. He had left even amidst conflict with another Court. The Crow knew that he shouldn’t be searching out the patron Goddess of stars and shadows - not for guidance, not for answers, and certainly not for absolution. Caligo has never been known to be a forgiving deity; even in the bedtime stories that had been whispered among orphans - eyes twinkling with wonder and innocence - their fierce, wild Goddess had been vengeful, merciless, bitter. Caligo had separated herself and her people from her god-siblings with literal mountains. Torn from the rest of the world with shockwaves of grief and pain so deep into her father’s earth that the very crust of the planet rebelled.  She was endless and eternal, both mortal and immortal, a combination of circumstances beyond her control - and she would not take any betrayal, whether intentional or not, lightly. He feared her just as much as he loved her. Gods be damned, he knew better. But that had never stopped the Silvertongue before. ... He had been trekking for what felt like an eternity all across the mountain - on paths paved and on paths discovered - searching desperately for his Goddess. He had questions that he couldn’t put into words, a sense of agony and loss that cut deep into his heart and into his gut. He was lost, so very lost, amidst the chaos of his world, and knew of nowhere else to turn. The comforting heat of the Sentinel’s bloodstone tapped against his breast with every step, a silent reassurance that the bay wasn’t worthless, that the colossal guardian had seen something in him that was enough to break its immortal slumber. It was that surety of self, derived from the acceptance of an Ancient, that lead the pegasus to a small copse of juvenile birch trees. The pale saplings were skinny and stunted, the occasional harsh storms of the mountain playing a part in their painfully slow growth. Slowing to a stop, Raglan passed pale eyes over the shadows between the ivory branches. The moon was full, dipping the world in silver and making shadows cast by physical forms deeper, sharper.   “Mother of Night, Benevolent Matron of Abandoned Children...” Raglan trailed off, the words choking him. Sucking in a slow breath, the Crow soldiered on, “I’ve been trying to find you, but I suppose it would be easier for you to find me. Tempus came, I can’t imagine his daughter is far behind. Would you offer me an audience? Please? I’ve known you my entire life.. And I’m lost and scared and my home is shut to me. I was hoping to spend time with someone who knows what that’s like even more than me.” He left a statement unspoken, though he knew that if Caligo were near, she would hear them all the same. I need your guidance. @Random Events RE: Far and Gone - Booker - 06-21-2018 OOC: Welp, here goes nothing. @Raglan Booker had no particular reason for heading into the mountains. They were there. Something to travel towards, so he did. Each day passed by the same as the one before: walking, grazing, resting. The only thing that changed was the mountains in the distance got bigger. When the ground turned stony and uncertain, Booker pawed rocks from the soil. He needed to learn how this land worked. It was very different from the desert, and still dangerous in its own way. The rocks and boulders of this place were daggers, and a horse could find its death here easily enough. The play of light on the escarpments were interesting. The trees provided soft shade and there was plenty of foraging. It was downright pleasant. Settling himself down beneath a tree, in the silence of a cool wind, he decided he could get used to this. Before the winter drove him off the slopes, anyway. He decided to try a bit of painting. He was not very good at it, but the light transformed the land into something otherworldly. He mixed his colors and set up a fresh bit of paper. Settling into it, he began to enjoy the silence and solitude. Until he heard a voice interrupting his meditations. "Mother of Night, Benevolent Matron of Abandoned Children..." Booker laced his ears back. "Tits on a stallion," he muttered, washing out his brush. He traveled out into the middle of nowhere, and there were STILL horses around here? Religious zealot, from the sound of it. Wonderful. The stranger sounded much too old to be crying about being an abandoned child. Booker caught a glimpse of him. The most bizarre, twig-legged skinflit on stilts he'd ever seen, crowned with bizarre horns as thin as his legs. He scowled through the branches of the birch tree. "Go home, boy," he said gruffly. "'Less you're some toothless foal needin' milk you don't need to be tuggin at the tits of any mare; I don't care if she's a god. If she's a righteous one she'll give you a good kick for bein' spoiled." RE: Far and Gone - Raglan - 07-08-2018 The voice he heard was far from being Caligo’s. Rather, as the winged youth turned about, pale eyes found the stout and gnarled figure of a stallion, expression twisted with distaste as he weighed in on Raglan’s plea. Quirking a brow, the Crow felt the vulnerability that he had cultured throughout his mountain trek diminish. Blinking slowly, the Silvertongue assessed the older male as he continued to speak, gaze traveling along the corded bulges of old muscle and noting the faded imprint of scars here and there. Flaring his nostrils, Raglan caught the scent of paints and felt his other brow rise to match the first as he noticed the colorful paper spread behind the elder stallion. He supposed that everyone was entitled to their hobbies; though verbally berating strangers and fine arts didn’t seem to be a predictable pair. Cocking his horned head to the side, causing the gem embedded within his forehead to glint in the moonlight, Raglan proffered an impish grin. With a swish of his ivory tail and a few steps toward the stranger, the Denoctian felt a surge of excitement at the newest development in his increasingly unpredictable journey. It had been so long since he had loosened up his metaphorical tie and swapped meaningless words with another. “You must be Solterran,” drawled the leggy stag, characteristic smirk already spreading over his features, “No one from any other court would take such pride in being an ass.” The bloody bay kept his voice light, pleasant even, as he addressed the older stallion. Making a show of sucking on his teeth and running his tongue along the insides of his mouth, the aggravating Crow gave a huh before speaking again, “Unfortunately, it seems like I have all of my teeth. Care to knock them out for me?” @Booker RE: Far and Gone - Booker - 07-16-2018 Booker barked a gruff laugh."Don't tempt me,boy." He turned away. "'M Solterran, if it please you. Whatever you are, hope you're ashamed. I can't tell if you want yer teeth knocked out to justify your whingeing, or if yer showin' 'em to me all proud-like after slobberin' and cryin' like a baby. "Why would any god want someone like you for a worshiper? All spindly-legged, can't do a damn thing for yourself, blubberin' like a lost foal wantin' his Mama to come find him." He looked back over his shoulder with a jaundiced eye. "I'm sure she's real impressed, boy. Good luck with that." He started to pack up his things. @Raglan