The soft thud of feet against the grass along with the gentle howl of the wind were the sounds that accompanied her as she continued her travels. Each thump of her heart sounded more shattered than the next. Despite the beautiful and vibrant look of her surroundings, to Aska-- the world felt as dulled as her own emotions. While it had not been years she had been traveling, the few weeks she had been were definitely not the easiest ones in her life. While summer usually brought joy, happiness and fulfillment to many, the sheer cold of her heart that numbed her entire body stopped her from truly feeling that happiness - feeling in general.
Aska was not used to court life, but the years with her parents’ tribe and later her own had at least somewhat prepared her. It would not be too difficult to get used to this place, with its multitude of surroundings, economies, groups of people. It was a welcome change from the loneliness she still felt - even if only temporary. She needed a place to heal her broken heart, to try and feel once more and put away the guilt she was still feeling aside. Neither Valor nor Daga would have wanted her to stay as broken as she was now, it was the main reason why she had left her tribe behind in the first place - they would want her to heal. To keep moving, no matter how hard it would be.
Golden eyes carefully took in her current surroundings, momentarily pausing to observe the bison’s peacefully grazing along the steppe that reached as far as she could look – the only thing visible that stood out being the giant mountain. She had been informed that ‘Veneror Peak’ was a place of worship – which made her think about her own faith. While she did believe in Gods – the Gods she had believed in were ones of Nature, Fertility even Protection. Yet after the event her faith was slowly disappearing. The Gods had taken away the two most important people around her, taken her heart – her soul. But maybe.. maybe she would go up to them soon. For what? Well, that she did not know just yet, for now it was simply calling for her in the back of her head, waiting to be addressed.
The blue shawl she was wearing did little for the heat that was sure to come during summer, yet she could not bring herself to take it off. The material was light – but heavy enough for her to feel it around her. This simple piece of fabric – a gift of her late husband – was the only thing holding her together for now while she wandered around aimlessly, without much thought.
Thinking was one of the things she had enough of – she was tired of getting stuck inside of her own head, so she had decided to simply block it out. Those who knew her would be able to see the empty shell she had become, but Aska knew she needed not to worry about this here. Nobody knew her, knew of what she did, who she was – she was fine with that. The nagging of company was there, but she knew it would take a long time for her to open up to others. Instead she tried to stay busy with cataloging the plant life, not specifically looking for things, yet making note of plants and herbs she might eventually be able to use for healing, as this had always been one of her strengths. It did have the added bonus of distracting her from herself – she supposed
Ira was barely older than a colt the first time a gentleman in Denocte came to him, saying: You’re the hunting boy, aren’t you?
To which he would say, “Yes, sir.”
And the man would add, “You learn more by hunting animals then you do hunting just about anything else. Let me make you an offer, son—“
It began, like that. His father had begun to ail, and the medications he required for his health were expensive, imported from overseas on vast sailing ships. Ira had been running out of options, and desperate, so that when the man—his name, Turk, still evokes a complicated gnarl of emotions within him—offered a hundred signs just to track a man through Ruris, Ira had agreed.
He had tracked him through Eluetherian Plain, marveling at how clumsy men were compared to beasts. He left traces through every thicket; strands of long russet hair, hoof-prints, a feather from his wing.
(One day, but not that day, the jobs would progress. “Ira, son, I need you to capture a thief” or, “Ira, son, there is a man that must be ki—“)
Ira becomes distracted by the herd of bison in the near distance. He watches them quietly, as a witness and a witness alone. Ira has not come so far from Denocte to hunt bison, but a man—a man.
A thief.
He sees a silhouette nearby, observing the herd from the opposite hillside. Ira cocks his head, but recognizes immediately they do not fit the description of the man he seeks. No, the man he seeks is a pegasus, and the woman across the small valley has no wings. He waits for the bison to continue their passage before loping down the hill and up the other side. She seems preoccupied, and Ira feels regretful to interrupt her concentration. “Excuse me—“ He offers a smile, large and shy and somewhat charming. “Have you seen a man pass about this way? Black as pitch, and winged?”
He knows, in the asking, that she has not. Ira lost the trail a ways back, and he would not be surprised if the pegasus had taken flight.
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