Mortality is a damn pain, thought Kaladin, re-arranging his body again on the stone bench. A tangled strand of his mane fell limply between his eyes, and he shook his head to toss it away. He had been bemoaning his gangly adolescent body for the past while, realizing exactly why his father had cursed him into this particular mortality as earthly purgatory. These bodies are so determined to be ideally matched to the corporeal world, and yet they lack the mechanism of actually being comfortable. He mused, intrigued yet repulsed by the mechanisms that were responsible for both his discomfort, and existence.

For a moment, his body accepted his new position and he returned to his previous task, enjoying the quiet of the afternoon and the temporary leave from his Caretaker tasks. A moment later, however, his foreleg began to throb. He cursed under his breath as he shifted again, and his back cannon bone hollered at its cramped positioning. Granted, he admitted, choosing to ignore his body's complaints this time, I have been sitting here for hours. He turned the page and set his mind back to reading, hoping that the influx of knowledge would be cathartic to at least some amount of the pain. Discomfort was a small price one paid for godhood. 

Despite Kaladin's best complaints, the day had turned out to be grudgingly enjoyable. It was warm out, the air fresh and sweet-smelling. The Delumine sun shone shyly, peeking out from behind the light rain clouds that were trying futilely to appear threatening against an otherwise azure sky. Kaladin had chosen the ornate bench beneath a leaning willow as his reading roost, counting that the ancient tree's intertwined limbs would offer shelter, should rain come. Between his hooves lay a scroll lined with scrawling text practically the size of rice-grains. He'd foraged it from Delumine's library under the pretext of medicinal purposes, and was now scouring its contents for knowledge of binding and breaking spells. Whichever ancient magic-worker had written on the dusty parchment had been frustratingly unhelpful, and with every next sentence Kaladin felt his willpower slipping.
 
Cursing yet again, he reached telepathically for the quill lying by his side and underlined a line of text. The movement sent the crystal of his collar rattling, sending a line of invigorating determination through Kaladin. Remembering the purpose of his studies, he launched himself back into the runework with renewed fervor.

Just as he entered the world of magic-casting once more, the crunch of hoof on cobblestone alerted Kaladin to a stranger's approach. He raised his head, immediately hostile for the interruption and ready to tell off whoever had disturbed his peace. He glared up, amberglass eyes both startled and annoyed, to take in the approaching equine. "You know,, it is basic etiquette not to interrupt people when they are studying." He growled.

@Nicodemus shoddy post but i'm just so hyped to get this going