He was getting tired of mountains.
It felt good to have finally found a place so close to the stars.
After days of aimless wanderings, unforgiving stonework and berating sunlight, the plain's meek, calm breeze came as a gift. The meadow was truly something to behold - lined with bristling golden grass and ringed by lush forestry, with the Veneror Peak now far on the horizonline, no more then a merciless memory. He wondered if a mortal youngster might see this open field and run, run carelessly, with the wind in its mane and eyes alight with exhilaration. He wished he could. But one day, he would do more - he would soar the skies above, no more then a whisper between blades of grass or a shaking in the trees. He would put stars in the sky, let them shower the earth and watch their reflections bounce off the grass's golden surface. He could see it n- but he should not. What are you doing, idiot. he growled at himself. Do not give yourself false hopes.
For a moment, he'd allowed himself a freedom he did not have. Could have again, but it seemed to be dancing further and further out of his reach, no matter how many steps he made towards it. The diamond of his collar bounced against his jugular, mocking him. You think you can be a god again?
He shook his head, long mane tossed and unruly about his neck. The wind picked up, whistling as it charged between the pines, then coming to a soft whisper once it touched against the grassland. Far above him, an eagle painted the skies with feathered wingtips, a dark form heralding the coming dusk.
Kaladin picked up his pace, hoping the quick strides would shake off self-loathing memories that dragged his every step. Soon, he had moved into a lope, watching the golden earth below him whip past. Neck curved, amberglass eyes sharp and alert. With his bronze coat and simple build, movements lax and unhurried, he thought he might look like a creature conjured of the prairie itself.
With the long, stretching expanse ahead, it was not long before he recognized a shape in the distance. He cursed in his mind at the sight, hooves slamming to a halt in a shower of yellow grass and upturned turf. Not him. Not again. he glanced to the heavens, reproachful to whatever deity laughed at him now. You think this funny? he growled. He glanced back, body shivering with sudden anxiety. The last time he had seen the youth's hide, they had been plastered against each other in a mountain cavern, shivering and frigid as their manes iced over in the pouring gale. Still, there would be no avoiding him now - Damascus would have clearly noticed Kaladin by now.
He approached wearily, eyes glimmering coldly. He noted a second stag standing off to the side, and nodded his greeting in disinterested fashion before turning back to the younger boy. "Still seeking out the relic?" he asked. "You're a determined one, aren't you?"
@Damascus i'm placing this between the mountains and the meadow timeline wise, since it makes the most sense??
It felt good to have finally found a place so close to the stars.
After days of aimless wanderings, unforgiving stonework and berating sunlight, the plain's meek, calm breeze came as a gift. The meadow was truly something to behold - lined with bristling golden grass and ringed by lush forestry, with the Veneror Peak now far on the horizonline, no more then a merciless memory. He wondered if a mortal youngster might see this open field and run, run carelessly, with the wind in its mane and eyes alight with exhilaration. He wished he could. But one day, he would do more - he would soar the skies above, no more then a whisper between blades of grass or a shaking in the trees. He would put stars in the sky, let them shower the earth and watch their reflections bounce off the grass's golden surface. He could see it n- but he should not. What are you doing, idiot. he growled at himself. Do not give yourself false hopes.
For a moment, he'd allowed himself a freedom he did not have. Could have again, but it seemed to be dancing further and further out of his reach, no matter how many steps he made towards it. The diamond of his collar bounced against his jugular, mocking him. You think you can be a god again?
He shook his head, long mane tossed and unruly about his neck. The wind picked up, whistling as it charged between the pines, then coming to a soft whisper once it touched against the grassland. Far above him, an eagle painted the skies with feathered wingtips, a dark form heralding the coming dusk.
Kaladin picked up his pace, hoping the quick strides would shake off self-loathing memories that dragged his every step. Soon, he had moved into a lope, watching the golden earth below him whip past. Neck curved, amberglass eyes sharp and alert. With his bronze coat and simple build, movements lax and unhurried, he thought he might look like a creature conjured of the prairie itself.
With the long, stretching expanse ahead, it was not long before he recognized a shape in the distance. He cursed in his mind at the sight, hooves slamming to a halt in a shower of yellow grass and upturned turf. Not him. Not again. he glanced to the heavens, reproachful to whatever deity laughed at him now. You think this funny? he growled. He glanced back, body shivering with sudden anxiety. The last time he had seen the youth's hide, they had been plastered against each other in a mountain cavern, shivering and frigid as their manes iced over in the pouring gale. Still, there would be no avoiding him now - Damascus would have clearly noticed Kaladin by now.
He approached wearily, eyes glimmering coldly. He noted a second stag standing off to the side, and nodded his greeting in disinterested fashion before turning back to the younger boy. "Still seeking out the relic?" he asked. "You're a determined one, aren't you?"
@Damascus i'm placing this between the mountains and the meadow timeline wise, since it makes the most sense??
