and he keeps waking up
but it's not to the sound of birds
Winter’s bite is all too familiar to Grey. He wears it on his skin and in his blood like a half-dead man, frosted and blue. It brushes its fingers over his curves and nips fiercely at his heels, but it doesn’t bother him. He wanders down the quiet, early morning streets like a spectre. The few equines that pass by are cloaked in heavy fabrics to ward off the chill, but he bares the subtle sparkling crystals on his skin to the sun.
They all look at him like he is crazy.
Perhaps he is. Perhaps, whatever sanity he’d had was left on that mountain in the winter.
His hooves scrape against the stones underfoot like a waning cry, carried away by the wind. His breath does not make clouds in the hair before him, his sides rise and fall slowly. Oh, he might be alive, but some days he does not feel it.
Somewhere, he hears a coughing. Perhaps some child, come down with a cold. Grey begins to think that the only kind he could ever love is a god, because he would probably make anyone else, anyone mortal, sick. This is his curse in life, to have the capacity for love but be unable to give it away. So he shields his heart beneath layers of ice and frozen skin.
To any passerby he might just look like a spectre, but perhaps he truly is one.
is this a natural feeling or is it just me bleeding?
Maybe he should be like the others here, all decked out in fabrics and jewelry, but Lasairian wasn't. He never had a true problem with being bare of those things, but he wasn't against wearing it all, either. Back home it would have been safer to cover up and hide the rune carved into his shoulder because of it's meaning. A rune anywhere over his body was not an abnormal sight by far, having been versed as a runemage, but it was that one on his shoulder that he couldn't have deciphered by the masses for what it truly was.
Here, however, it did not matter who saw it or if they knew it's meaning. Lasairian didn't have to wear anything if he wasn't feeling it, and unlike one half of his prior people, the cold wasn't the same sort of lethal to him. He wasn't exactly a fan of the chill to any extreme, but he withstood it better than the full Brollachans did. He was covered in fur now, and therefore he would be fine in the weather as it was. Not comfortable, but certainly not— that guy. The one that looked made of ice that had just entered his sight.
Lasairian had to pause and blink, making sure of what he was seeing. Such an interesting looking equine, and it does pull him closer, that curiosity that now burns in his chest to try and find out how someone might live like this, in that manner. The medic in him was quite inquisitive over the matter, and Lasairian calls out his polite "hello!" to the stranger, and offered a friendly smile. "I've never seen you around," a pause, because there's a good reason already, "then again, I'm new here. I'm Lasairian," were his words, the greetings he goes with.
tag — @Grey
template by cas • equine lines by AriesRedLo • border image from hashtag-bg.com
and he keeps waking up
but it's not to the sound of birds
'Hello!
The all too cheerful call rings out in the cold air like bells, high and chiming. Grey ignores it at first—whether believing it's not meant for him or choosing to pretend it isn't—and continues to walk. It isn't until the other equine makes his way to Grey's side that he has to accept the truth: whoever this is wants to talk to him.
The unicorn pauses and drops cool, snow-white eyes onto the man. There is as much warmth in them as there is in the touch of his skin. "I could say the same," he says with a rolling of his shoulders. He swings his head forward and begins to walk again, leaving his unwanted companion to follow of their own accord.
Grey doesn't have a destination in mind, but that doesn't mean mean he's going to stop and chit chat with every equine in the street who thinks he's suddenly way more interesting than be is. He would never get anywhere if he paused for everyone who said 'hello'; if he had anywhere to go.
"I hope you're not looking for directions, or any information at all for that matter," the words slip past his lips and fall to the ground like icicles, sharp and pointed. "I haven't been here long enough to know it." In reality, the truth was he just hasn't cared enough to learn anything.
This is not a permanent situation, his being here, especially considering he still hasn't found the thing Amaranthus had said he would. He also hasn't found any evidence that the Somnus that Mateo mentioned is the same one who reminds him of a time he'd much rather forget. At least, he has yet to see him, and that's good enough for Grey.
is this a natural feeling or is it just me bleeding?
It doesn't take him a long time to figure out that his exuberance wasn't well received by the frosty fellow, and it wouldn't be terribly hard to drop it for a more somber vibe. Sometimes the older Brollachans had been like that, and he knows with certainty that Buchannan was that sort. She had been like an aunt to him anyway, seriousness and all. Lasairian could adapt to a different demeanor if it was needed, just as he had when starting off here. Back home -- before this was home -- he had acted much the same as that.
Sometimes only frigid was how to get the point across. Not that Lasairian desired to mention that point here if he did not have to. He had left the Bheo for a reason, and in ways it was more freeing, in others it was less so. Complicated, either way, but he felt that being here was good for him. He was curious of this seemingly frost covered guy, however, and was attentive when the other spoke to him. Could say the same. Lasairian wondered if there was humor meant within that obviousness, but he doesn't comment on it, just nods in acceptance.
When the other walks, so does he, trying to keep pace with the icy stallion and keep the conversation going. Not that it's much of one yet, but that's okay. More was said, and Lasairian huffed gently, "I am always looking for more information. It doesn't have to be about this place or directions," he responds evenly, not at all deterred by the cool words. That did not bother him at all, and had not been a point-blank telling to leave the other be. "Were you born this way, with the cold? If you don't mind my asking, of course. From a medical standpoint it is quite a curious thing to behold," he adds, wondering if it hurts, what it must be like.
tag — @Grey
template by cas • equine lines by AriesRedLo • border image from hashtag-bg.com
and he keeps waking up
but it's not to the sound of birds
The unicorn is all too aware of the equine tailing along behind him, attempting to keep up. Grey is not kind enough to slow, shouldering his way through the streets without glancing back. ”I am always looking for more information,” the other man says and he cannot help the slight roll of his snow-white eyes. Yes, always butting into other people’s business and poking one’s nose where it doesn’t belong is the best way to make friends.
Grey bites his tongue instead of speaking his mind. In truth, the unicorn is impressed that this stranger is the first to ask him about the blue tint of his skin, the crystals clinging to every curve that sparkle subtly in the sun. Surely others must have been curious about it, he imagines it’s not often someone goes wandering around looking as though they’re made of ice.
He grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw as he contemplates what to say.
Or whether to say anything at all.
“There is nothing medical about what is wrong with me,” Grey cuts out sharply, even as there is a twinge of guilt in his stomach. Amaranthus’ magic had saved his life but hadn’t been able to return him perfectly to what he was before. And it had left its mark on him too, the runs etched into his skin on the right side of his neck; often hidden beneath his mane.
The only thing that hurts about the frosted touch of his skin is the dark truth that led him to that day on the mountaintop in the snow. Grey eventually comes to a stop, his muscles taught and rigid, his eyes farther away than even than mountain, or the god he had met upon it. “Once, someone had to use magic to save my life. This is how it left me.”
