Everything seemed....still. There wasn't a sound in the air, not a rustle in the soft grass upon which he tread. Even his steps were muffled, making them seem distant and foreign. He could almost imagine that he was drifting, gliding across the darkened meadow carelessly, his mind free of mortal chains. It was a lovely night, he remarked, one that almost allowed him to gleam his past magnificence. The sky was dusted with stars, a white streak of some starway weaving across its indigo expanse. The wind carried the smell of lilac trees, the white kind he'd seen blooming near the edges of the forest that encircled the Dawn Court's pride and joy - the meadow. They even named it, he thought glumly. It's not just a meadow, it's the illuster meadow. He glanced about, amberglass eyes taking in the disconcertingly still expanse of forestry and huddled wildflowers, closed up for the night into tight buds. Kaldin shook his head, mane falling over his eyes. He did not make a move to brush it away. What good does it do to name a piece of grass?
These trivial matters were beyond him. He’d been doing his best to escape humanity since it had removed its mask of gossamer hope to glare him in the face with trials and falsehoods. Instead of facing it head-on, he’d ducked his head and immersed himself in a craft that he’d always been captivated by – that of potions and the intricacies of the equine body. They called him a Caretaker – “I prefer Bonebreaker, or perhaps Lifesaver,” he’d wanted to say. “Something more grandiose.” And yet, the name Caretaker had stuck – it made him sound like some small child who looked after smaller children, foolishly wandering after the useless youths until he’d gone hoarse with calling their names.
With a start, he realized he was unnerved. He paused in his brooding trek, lifting his drooping head to eye his silent surroundings. It took him a moment to pinpoint the source of his shaking – yes, he was quivering, it seemed his body did that now. Without the daily chirp of birds or the bustling sounds of the herd, he was reminded of his time spent in the cavern, of the reticent stone faces and endless nights, trapped in a tomb of his father’s making, deep beneath the earth. His mind wandered to the collar about his neck, and his gave it a tug. It held, stubborn as always, a patent reminder of his blunders.
”Soon,” he whispered, out loud, in hopes of breaking the silence. He’d heard the rumors, as they all had. Of a relic, some godly item strewn about the land thoughtlessly by one of their inconsiderate gods. Kaladin would never have been so careless. But I am no god, he remembered. He set back into his march, eyes set stubbornly on the horizon. Yet,he added. This was the first gleam of hope he’d received since his fall. If this godly item was as potent as they said, whatever power it contained might be enough to break the cursed collar and free him of this disgusting body once more.
His amber eyes gleamed in the darkness, lit like lanterns by the idea of gods and monsters. Leaving mortality behind. Once again, he allowed himself to feel like he was gliding, his hoofsteps becoming muffled until he thought they might be the heartbeats of the earth itself, egging him onwards for its own redemption.
The man was a familiar one, Damascus knew this even as he spied from a distance of at least half a mile. Under the cover of shrubbery and flowering grassed he stood, a mouth filled with a slobbery green chew as his silver eyes pierced the approaching witching hour. It was the tiniest whisper that had alerted the starlit stag to the other's presence, and though it was the kind he could not make out, it was a whisper, a prayer nonetheless. He had been quick to notice that it was uttered by the Caretaker met once before in the mountains the day of his crash-landing - he had the feeling they would meet again, and it seemed they would.
What was his name again? Niether the pegasus nor his big-eared companion could recall. Regardless of whether he remembered the enigmatic brute's name or not on the short trek across the meadow or not, he would still say cheerio.
It was with a grunt that the goliath strode forth, round hooves stamping over plants and shrubbery as he aimed to delve his way savely through the meadow, sights set upon the caretaker. "Hallo second time!" He came to cheer, soon wondering if he'd had any luck with that relic the trees and breeze uttered about. "Relic searching how go you? No luck in me"
As usual the child tripped once or twice on his gangly legs, and his booming voice would crack once or twice as he spoke - all signs of a blossoming adolescent. "Wonder I if us must look try up high" the colt would then ponder, turning his nose in the direction of Veneror Peak as he took his place beside the luminous stallion.
The stillness of the meadow shattered suddenly, like a an ancient porcelain vase knocked to the floor by some careless mortal. In one moment, he was enjoying the fragile construction of the natural world, and the next there was an unwelcome voice one the wind shouting greeting. He turned in an abrupt half-rear, head thrown high in alarm and crystal pendant flaring in tandem with his sudden burst of emotions. "Who-" he cut himself short, laying eyes on the shadow-cloaked young man nestled in the shrubbery near the edge of the meadow, watching him with cheerful golden eyes. "You." He managed - not exactly an ideal greeting by the customs of the Courts, but one that expressed his true emotions nontheless.
It was not that he was unhappy to see the chocolate-pelted creature from his previous escapade in the Arma Mountains. It was just that he had rather not relive the tedious clambering and shivering winds that had almost cost him his life. He'd never considered what would happen to him should he pass in this life - but during the time of his climb, that question had been raised to him bright and glaring. He had not sought to answer it.
Still, the boy piqued his curiosity. Perhaps because Kaladin saw in him something that could have come to pass within himself, should he have been born of womb and flesh, not starlight and fury. I should be glad I skipped that stage, he thought, tilting his head in the direction of his gangly acquaintance. Still, a part of him wondered what it would have been like, to have only three years of memories behind him - not eight-hundred.
And yet, there were times like tonight where he still felt youthful - where the stillness and summer air made his muscles hum with activity. These were the instincts pushing him to skip across the meadow, to greet the almost-stranger with cheer and welcoming instead of cold analysis. But he suppressed both these things. I can learn from him, Kaladin realized. Learn what I could have been, what I should have been. The thought made his stomach roil in hatred towards Father once more. He shook his head. I can also learn how not to behave. There is benefit to everything.
The kid's next explanation made Kaladin's head shoot up, and his amberglass eyes flashed. Shaking his head with brief panic, he trotted across the clearing to thrust his face up against the boy's and growl, "Yes, say that louder, boy. Let the whole world know that we are after the relic that only one will be able to use." He tipped his head back, sizing up the larger stallion with cold calculation. "And that person will be me." Grinning wickedly now, he stood back, flicking his tail in an attempt to calm his twanging nerves.
The meadow about them was no longer quiet - it now rang with hushed notes of thinly-veiled tension. Kaladin's grin faded from something rather vicious to a more convincing imitation of a smile. "But I suppose you can come along, for now." You could prove to be useful, he added in his thoughts, following the pegasus' gaze to the peaks just piercing the skyline. Once again, he gave the adolescent grudging credit - he spoke like a fool, but his ideas were far from it. "I imagine it is a good a place to look as any." Kaladin conceded finally.
Damascus awaited a greeting, a welcome, any kind of acknowledgement in return from the copper man that he'd met on the mount, his name only now springing to mind. This was Kaladin. When he saw the man's ember-like eyes flash in his direction but recieved little more that a icy "You", Damscus took a step forward to bleat the man's name. "Kaladin?" He prodded, wondering if he was always this grouchy or if he'd just come at a bad time.
All was revealed soon enough, the answer coming to him in swift steps across the meadow and a face thrust unto his own. Instinctively Damascus craned his head back, flattening his jowls against his neck as the thundery brute snapped his warning words of hush, which only confused the colt even more. Why was it a secret? Damascus was certain that they were among many on the look out for this relic, though still the sharp words of the elder one was enough to cast the lads thoughts to the belief that perhaps he spoke the truth.
The wisdom that generally came with older folk was usually enough to develop a sense of trust from Damascus - He'd not disregard what Kaladin said, though, to others it might seem the man was simply over-confident or entitled given what he had said about himself receiving the relic. Damascus though - he believed Kaladin when he said it would be him to find it, and it dissapointed the dark colt. What made this man so special? What great deed did he accomplish?
"Why get you it?" Damascus questioned, a rare frown crossing his humble face. Perhaps Tempus himself promised it to him? "Tempus say he you have and us not?" he continued to ponder, now past the point of wondering about the relic and now curious as to if this gentleman had actually meant Tempus - because THAT story might be just as valuable.
It was an honest question, come from a candid man with well-intentioned golden eyes, wide and inquisitive. Childlike. He begrudged those eyes. Kaladin glanced up, eyes tracing the stars, still grinning with the mischievous bearing he had previously worn. He did not realize, but it was perhaps the first time he had smiled at all, since his very tethering to the earth. It was not a smile of mirth, nor genuine happiness, but it had to count for something.
The boy – Kaladin could not seem to recall his name, perhaps because he had deemed it unimportant – had not asked his question with any challenge, and Kaladin did not search his face for sign of malevolence or testing. Instead, he kept his eyes to the starlit sky and wondered what it would take to dishearten his acquaintance enough to be left alone. "You think I'm going to let some obscure deity dictate to me if I am worthy?" He said with a scoff. ”If Tempus had intended to control who utilizes his relic, he would not have dropped it.” He frowned, unsatisfied with the brashness of his own reply. Why would he claim the relic as his own? he knew the answer, but how to convey it to another who sought to steal his prize?
“You speak of this deity like he has naught to say the word and all shall fall.” He remarked, more to himself then to his companion. People had spoken of him like that, once – with fear and awe. But his name had never been known, he realized. They had never cared to recall his name after he was gone. Tempus, however, remained. He shook his head. The thought tasted bitter on his tongue as he continued, ”Sometimes, you need to make your own path in life, not look to ethereal idols. Especially ones that do naught then drop their relics to the earth to throw you mortals to each other's throats.” I would have been better. I would have cleansed the world, re-formed it. he pushed the thought away, determined. My time will come again.
He lifted his chin, letting the other boy catch sight of the crystal dangling at his throat, now pale and ghostly in comparison to its earlier light. "You see this collar around my throat?" He asked, giving his head a shake to let the crystal ring in emphasis. "It's cursed. It's a punishment - a punishment for simply existing. And I am hoping that relic will help me break it and release me from my bonds.” Why speak the words? It felt as if an admission to himself, in a sense. The he was confirming that his quest would not be in vain.
Gaining some satisfaction now from his reply, he began to walk steadily, pointed in the direction of the far-off peaks as per the adolescent’s suggestion. He couldn’t help but be curious to see if he would be able to shake off the youngling, or if he would be – gods forbid – followed. As he turned, however, something caught his eye.
He paused, head tilted. The pink scars around the boy’s front left leg, staining chocolate pelt to a ravaged wasteland of skin. He had spent too many years observing the evils on mankind not to guess the source of the scars. His eyes narrowed, glimmering with systematic inquiry. "I – I believe you understand what it is like, to bear the burden of shackles." He glanced up, and allowed their eyes to meet in earnest. "But whilst you have found your freedom, I am still trapped."
After searching the river, the meadow was his next port of call. It was just adjacent and Venari intended to conduct his search in the most systematic way possible for ease of travel and so that he didn't neglect to search an area. Wildflowers tickled his knees as he made steady progress through the tall grasses of the meadow. It was a serene and tranquil place; the rain had mostly subsided by now and so he could hear with more clarity. Small songbirds chirped all around him, concealed by their camouflaged feathers amongst the pale hued meadow.
The wind stirred and Venari heard a faint whisper in the breeze. It spoke of rumours of a relic nearby and a quest he must undertake for a greater prize. Motivated by this improved knowledge, the foreign stallion pushed his limbs forward into a canter to make quicker progress in his search of the meadow. As far as his eyes could tell, the meadow was vast and so speed would be vital in this area should he want to move on to somewhere new in good time. The wet footing made him more cautious, however, as while he was athletic he knew all too well that his legs were lanky and could cause him to trip should the footing be unsteady.
Five minutes into his search and the stag spotted two horses to his left. His limbs moved down a gear as to not startle them both in his approach. One of the souls he ended up recognising from his very first visit to Novus, though Venari had shamefully forgotten his name. It was okay though, Ven didn't plan to linger for long due to the worry bubbling in his blood. He was on this relic hunt to help ease his mind, not to stir it into a deeper chaos.
He pushed himself down into a walk and observed the two horses briefly. The first stallion held a painted design and was a similar height to Venari. Contrastingly, the second male was much taller than them both and held a simple yet striking appearance. It was hard to miss him in the daylight hours. As he entered within hearing range, he heard the smaller stag dominate the dialogue. Ven barely tuned into the words for fear of eavesdropping, but he couldn't help but to hear talk of Deities and shackles. Clearing his throat, he halted and took a breath in preparation to speak. "Greetings to you both," he spoke with a feigned confidence. "I'm Venari, I won't stay long as I'm searching for something but I thought it would be rude not to say hi," Venari spoke to them both before distracting himself with the view over his right shoulder. He would resume his eye contact soon enough as to not be rude, but he felt his heart beat faster and so the distraction was very much called for.
*
TAGGED: @Kaladin @Damascus
NOTES: I hope you don't mind me jumping in here? I'm happy to adapt my post based on Kaladin's pending response <3
TIMELINE: Third relic location
Damascus stood with wide, bright eyes as the whisp before him began on his tirade, the kind that caused the onyx fellow to crinkle his nose in a shallow form of disgust. First, he watched as the rust-coloured stag bellowed and trumpeted about how he dare not condescend to allow the gods to dictate whether he was worthy of the relic, and that if Tempus had wished to control whos cultches it fell unto he would not have dropped it. Damascus was quite taken aback, though settled with the simple one word answer of "...exactly?" he muttered, brows creasing over his starry eyes. "Worthy one's destiny him take relic to. Forget must not you of power of destiny in lives of us".
Though truly, did this creature of lungs and horns before him truly believe he was so superior to the gods? How such a notion could be born in anyone was beyond Damascus, though from how Kaladin spoke it sounded as though he was stooping to the very pits simply by standing in this field. The colt might have expected an attitude like that from Tempus, though he doubted even the deity of all things past and all things to come would be quite so... precious?
With the brute's next words of 'wisdom' Damascus had once again squinted though his gaze, teeth gritting ot hold back a remark or any kind of interruption. He got the feeling that this one would pack a great punch should he not be heard. "Seen not I any throat-throwing" Damascus argued "Only you be one of anger."
It was quite true really. So far Damascus had met a whole array of individuals all happy to work as a team to seek out the relic or accompany one another - it seemed only Kaladin had a problem at the prospect someone other than him could find it. Another approached and Damascus made an unusual attempt at a smile and a nod, his pale eyes glancing over the one he recognised though couldn't quite fit a name to.
Damascus made a move to step past the grump, his nose pointed in the direction of the peak and his wings opening in a flare to prepare for flight when once again the intolerable brute bellowed, this time lifting his nose to reveal a bauble on his neck. What he said filled the child with curiosity but also a strange anguish; the kind he'd not felt for a long time. As the man continued to talk and talk, Damascus' wings slowly lowered, the anger bioling up through his ribs as the flea-like stag turned away. Dohv hid under the boy's feathers, holding tightly to their barbs as the whisp spoke his final words, and in doing so, essentially pulling the trigger on Damascus' building frustration. "Nothing knows you of bound being!" the stag came to shout, wings erupting in a flurry of feathers. "Come and go you do as pleases you, food you have, comfort, home have also! Looking you not for freedom - has you it same like me!"
He would never decide if he despised mankind...or loved it. For ages, equines had just been distant specks - things he could observe, but never related to. To Kaladin, they had been objects of intrigue, entertainment, and yet envy, as he'd wished upon himself their experiences. He'd watched them build empires powerful as mountains, then tear them apart brick by brick. They were stars, winking in and out of existence while he observed, ever eternal. Over the years, they had become a source of frustration. Adhering to the same cycles, errors repeated like mantras. He'd wanted to change their world, break the endless circles in which they walked and set them on new paths. In a way, he'd felt them his own - like unruly children who did not respond to authoritarian hand.
He'd been foolish. A newborn with grandiose plots but no understanding of their execution. He had wanted to feel the way they did, to love and to touch and to build and ruin. Cold to the emotions that drove that infected mortals, he had thought himself above them. And yet here he was, tracing circles in the sand, burying himself in deep with the creatures he did not understand. Trapped as one of them. A weak body, a mind that barely recalled his past. His days in the cavern were but flickers of looming stones and building fury. And yet, he'd endured then. He would endure now. But he did not want to endure. He wanted to live. Make his own destiny, follow a path as the boy had said. He was simply unsure of how to achieve that.
Another voice sounded out behind them. Greetings to you both! the pleasant tone grated against his ears, and he was reminded of exactly why he avoided mortal contact. Without thinking, he turned and snapped, "You know what is considerably more rude?" he growled. "Interrupting conversations." Not even glancing at the stallion to see his reaction, he turned his eyes and attention back to the kid, expression as if set in stone.
It took the adolescent's surprising burst of emotions to stun Kaladin out of his dismissive demeanor and send him headlong into realization. As unarticulate as the boy was, he was right. The idea frightened him. To these mortals, who had never known what he had, he was as free as any soul. They did not know the joy of thrumming power, of shaping and destruction. It was all he remembered. A short burst of exhilaration as his plans came to life, short lived before crushing failure and metal about his neck. It seemed like another life. This is your life now, he realized, the idea haunting him like a man's dying words, creeping their way up his spine. A free man, but a trapped one. Ironic.
He glanced at the aliferous boy, formulating a rather shellshocked reply. His spark-like eyes were glimmering now with a mixture of both fury and genuine discovery. "I suppose it would be lost on you, explaining what it is like to be trapped the way I am. However...." he lowered his chin, covering the twinkling diamond once more, his hair falling unruly over his face with the motion, "You are right. I should not compare my pains to yours. You did not deserve your shackles. I... his voice crackled, like a dying fire. "I deserved mine."
He turned, eyes glancing towards the mountains ahead of them, then glanced over his shoulder towards the kid. "If you ever repeat that to anyone, I will unleash the apocalypse." The words of small truth and less threat made him grin, somehow only amused by the youth's fury. It was with that smile that he realized that a weight had lifted off his chest. Had he spoken truly? Had this lowly mortal forced him to admit something he had locked away? Perhaps he was giving the boy too much credit. Still, his heart beat steadier, and he once again felt the evening's joy brush upon him like the night's cool breeze. A smile touched his lips, genuine this time. "Let us try to work together, then. You suggested the mountains - let us search there. And if we do not end up at each other's throats over a relic, I will owe you a drink."
@Damascus also my apologies to @Venari Kaladin is pure trash
As the two's anger simmers, a group of fireflies seem to surround them, humming softly as they alight gently on the horses for a few moments. As they prepare to leave, the light they give off seems to intensifies, forming a pathway into the dark. Will the two horses follow?
@Kaladin and @Damascus seem to have made some new friends! It is up to you to follow the fireflies or not. Tag the Random Events account in your next post to interact with the fireflies! Each of you may redeem 250 signos or 2 common shop items in the Signos Redemption Thread, simply link to this post as proof!
Happy writing!
To tag this account: @*'Random Events' without the asterisk.
Please be advised, tagging the Random Event account does not guarantee a response!
The boy continued to stand with a contrite snarl plastered upon his face, starry eyes burning colder with each passing second as he watched the whisp mumble over an explanation for such hollow and shapeless words. At the suggestion they work together his snarl only turned to a growl, his pearly teeth glinting ever-so-slightly as they made a brief appearance from under his wrinkling lips. Head held high and aloft, wings lowering to his flanks, Damascus remained contifend that the man before him was naught but a leach and he a simple creature of a different coat - simple nonetheless, but not tinted with grime like the whisp.
First came the torchlight of a different kind of bug, this one illuminating his face as it buzzed and clicked. All too soon they were surrounded by the lights and damascus' attention was completely redirected to the path their light created, putting the stars to death with their blinding glow. The relic - were they leading them to it?
Damascus was certain of only one thing; that if the relic was down there where the moon-bugs wait and the path of stars waned, Kaladin should not be the one to get it.
Sheepishly glancing to the whisp and his silky locks, Damascus wished for an easy escape forward - he knew that was the opposite of possible, and Kaladin was without a doubt thinking the same as he. The relic must be down there.
So it was with a vibrant grunt and a kick of his hooves that the boy plunged forward, shifting his shoulder in the direction of Kaladin's ribcage having plotted to send the man toppling over. In truth, Damascus hoped never to bump into this baboon ever again, but at least it was goodbye for now.
From there the boy need only race down the path and find what lay in wait at the end without Narcissus himself breathing upon his neck...
