He tries not to think about what he’s doing, as he rummages through a near-empty store-room not far from the kitchens in the bowels of the castle. Of course he fails. Lysander is not yet so far from himself, so distant from the ichor in his blood and the centuries behind his eyes, that he doesn’t consider like a scholar each decision he makes.
It is not just unlike him to be helping this gods-delivered gopher. It is antithetical to the man that he had been - a cool observer, fully and cheerfully removed from the endless, futile dealings of mortals.
Florentine might laugh at him, were she not lying with bandaged body and broken memories in a water-logged tree in a flooded swamp.
This is enough to sober his errant thoughts. He sweeps from the castle again with a few bits of valerian root, a handful of precious alfalfa. All the city’s stores were low; he knows Terrastella would yield few replacements in the weeks to come, especially with winter on their heels like a hungry dog.
He finds them easily, given the crowd gathered around them, the golden shimmer of the beast, the pale pegasus. Lysander pulls the plants from a satchel at his side, mixes the sweet-smelling grass with the bitter root, and sets it before the oversized rodent. His gleaming, green-eyed gaze never leaves the bedraggled creature, and he nods for it to eat as he speaks to the group.
“This will ease him to sleep. Then we can check him for injuries and see what else needs to be done.”
He wonders what Isra might have done; better than him, he is sure. He wonders if he should ask the gopher if it could speak - stranger things were happening around them.
In the end he does none of these things, only watches the animal with an unsettling intensity, and wonders what any of them thought they were doing, playing along with the gods’ games.
you fester in the daytime hours
boy, you never sleep at night
10-16-2018, 12:53 PM
Played by
bruiser [PM] Posts: 99 — Threads: 13 Signos: 1,000
She watches the proceedings only barely, her attention on the injured creature and trying to remember the words to the lullaby. She is no healer -- she can only stand there and soothe.
At least until the mare addresses her.
"...I think so, if someone were to lift him onto my back."
she wasn't looking for a knight,
she was looking for a sword.
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
The pegasus sheltering the gopher does nothing, much to Toulouse’s discontent. They all seem to be moving so slowly, talking rather than acting, and it takes all of his self control to not push her from his path and take the gopher himself.
Instead he waits patiently, or as patiently as any wolf after blood can, until the antlered bay returns.
”This will ease him to sleep.” For a second suspicion clouds his mind - what kind of sleep? what herbs are those? - but it proves to be for nothing. Once again, he finds himself questioning why he cares so much, but he pushes the thought from his mind as quickly as it had arrived.
The only thing to do now was to wait for it to fall asleep.
“If we’re lucky, he’ll just need some rest.” As he speaks, his eyes are looking over the bedraggled gopher - or as much of him as he can see, hidden as it is under Theodosia’s wing. He couldn’t see any signs of blood, but he knew that meant nothing. There could be more damage inside than out.
The mare nods, and for a second it is Vespera’s eyes shining out at them - but she blinks and they revert, a dull brown that hides her thoughts.
As the gopher eats Lysander’s offering, his cries finally dwindle away for good. It takes only a few minutes before he curls up and lapses back into sleep. His breathing slows, and for the first time since he was dropped off, he appears to be at peace. All the while the mare is watching him.
“Well, that is that. Up he goes,” she says in a sing-song voice that might have been cheery, were it not for her slightly monotonous way of thinking. She gathers up the gopher from his nest, lifting him gingerly from the ground to Theodosia’s back.
“I’ll walk beside you, to make sure he doesn’t fall. Let’s be off?”
Step by step, they would walk back to the capitol together.
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Her attention strays first to the golden stranger, her pale eyes quietly taking stock before she motions him over with her muzzle. Surely, it would be easier for the two of them to lift the gopher up, rather than the mare straining alone?
“Help lift him, please?”
She takes the weight across her back somehow without her knees buckling, even though she can’t help but wheeze for a few moments as she tries to catch her breath. The gopher is surprisingly warm across her back, an almost comforting weight once she adjusts, and she even manages to give the grey mare the briefest of smiles.
“We’ve been low on luck, lately,” he answers the horned and handsome stranger, but there is still a smile curving across the dark of his lips, thin as a trailing vine.
Lysander has never put much stock in luck, anyway. And he has a feeling that this strange incident falls much more in the realm of fate. It is a story he never intended to be a part of; he wonders, now, whether it is too late to untangle himself.
He watches the gopher eat, watches it fall to a more peaceful slumber. It would be much simpler if this god-delivered creature could speak - alas, simple was so rarely the way of deities. They had to keep the centuries interesting somehow.
The antlered stallion meant to make no further effort to step in, happy to concede decision-making to the dark-eyed gray mare. Like the gopher, there was something about her that did not seem entirely standard, but it is not a mystery Lysander troubles himself over.
But then the pegasus, she who had sung so sweetly, so softly to the creature calls to him. Her words have the ring of command in them, and with a raised brow he approaches. He does not care for the feel of the animal’s energy and the near-invisible ring of gold against his own magic, the strange god-touch against his warm bronze skin. Lysander helps shift the weight once, as the pale mare gathers her feet; he does not look to the other mare at all, save for a heartbeat’s length beneath lowered lashes.
“Godspeed,” he says to them both, only loud enough to hear, and steps back.
Nowhere in his expression does it hint how grateful he is to do so.
you fester in the daytime hours
boy, you never sleep at night
10-25-2018, 09:03 PM
Played by
bruiser [PM] Posts: 99 — Threads: 13 Signos: 1,000
The golden, antlered stallion is the one who steps up to help lift and settle the gopher, and she gifts him a grateful -- if wane -- smile There is some shuffling of feet and maneuvering of wings around the gopher’s bulk, but eventually the strange pair are ready to set off with their prize. “Godspeed,” She answers the antlered one, before her gaze slides over to the horned stranger who has remained quiet for the last few moments.
Truthfully, she’d prefer him somewhere she could keep an eye on him -- a stranger in the courts so soon after disaster had struck left her wary.
home is behind the world ahead
there are many paths to tread
He watches the events quietly, as each stranger takes their leave or picks up their new role. Through it all he simply watches and thinks, staring off into the distance after Lysander steps back.
Her words break through his reverie, prompting the horned stallion to lift his eyes and meet her gaze. He hesitates for a second, questioning his own motives. But then he dips his head in a small nod, moving to join the small group.
“I suppose,” he tells her, taking his place next to Theodosia, on the opposite side as the grey mare. For now, he would be a good helper and keep the gopher on her back
But who was to say if he disappeared soon after reaching the Court? Perhaps Toulouse would rather be a bystander to this event after all.
walk. "talk."
@Theodosia didn’t want to leave this hanging, so have a quick closing post!
