[AW] Live and learn

[Eik]

Never trust the story teller.

Lost in thought as he leaves the court, noticeably relieved as he transitions from stone to sand, Eik almost runs into the little idol in the sand. His ears flatten in surprise as he jerks to a halt, dust rising from his shoulders like a rug beaten clean.  His eyes narrow as he examines the tiny stranger.

They could not be more different.

The lines of his face are serious and stoic, although not cold-- he is prone to small, private smiles and (more often) not even smiles but the crinkle of eye or nose in reserved amusement. The scars, though, are what might worry an unknowing stranger. About as many scars as dapples, although the dapples only color his shoulders, hindquarters, and parts of his neck. The scars are head to hock, in all manner of sizes. Some are just weeks old and still have that raw flesh color to them.

After a moment's examination, Eik's surprise has faded but his caution lingers. A single ear flicks back in hesitation as the other pins itself on her. All he hears is the murmur of the court behind him and the heartbeat of the desert ahead.

(Or is that your own heart you hear singing, sighing, swinging like a pendulum from dune to dune)

Having seen and heard her, he takes a step forward, nose extended-- but all he smells is sand and sand. For all he knows she is made of the stuff, and would collapse at a touch. He breathes out in a sudden, derisive snort, both to test this theory and in amusement at the thought. As wild as it is, he is no longer very surprised by the magical oddities of this world.

However, she does not blow away like so many grains of sand. He is left, then, with all appearances of a child before him and night still hours away, but drawing closer. (He would know this even with eyes closed- the desert is taught with anticipation of some reprieve from the summer heat.) Eik is want to ignore the child-thing and keep walking, but some part of him hesitates, keeps his legs planted. He even relaxes a bit, and almost smiles in the sudden awareness of how laughable his spooked reaction must have been.

"Where is your mother?" He asks quietly, somehow impassive and concerned at once, gruff and gentle. But it is not so unusual for him to seem at odds with himself- for every thought that runs through his mind, another, contradictory one 

runs the other way.

Only trust the story.
- E I K

@Alayaya ahhhh she is too cute <3