As the lanky pegasus had expected, the mighty trees did not reply. A silence so profound that it seemed almost unnatural permeated the Crow’s surroundings, broken only by the sighing of the wind and the deep, ancient sounds of the living wall before him. Boughs and foliage creaked softly and whispered to each other in the balmy breeze that rained down from the Gods’ Mountain - but they whispered in a language that Raglan couldn’t hope to understand. Cocking a pale hoof and leaning his weight to one side, the lad gave an affected sigh and nodded up at the massive sentinel, distantly wondering if there were any books in the vast libraries of Novus that could teach him a thing or two about the language of the trees. He doubted he would be able to mimic any of the sounds, undoubtedly he would have an atrocious accent if he could grasp the dialogue at all, but if such a tome existed, Raglan would like to see it.
Just as he parted his lips to voice his interest - even if they didn’t reply, there was something soothing about speaking to the trees, as if they really were listening to what he said - there was a mighty groaning sound. Brows shooting up, Raglan took a few steps back and craned his neck to peer skyward toward the uppermost branches of the sentinel, wondering if one of the great limbs had broken.
But then the tree moved.
Raglan blinked at the great split that appeared within the bark before him, his mind not yet caught up with the reality that he was witnessing. Cocking his head to the side, the horned stallion considered the mighty trunk as it began to shudder and...
“I don’t think you should be moving...” The Silvertongue spoke slowly, his brain continuing to struggle in piecing together the existence of a sentient tree, “No, that’s not quite right..” Came his puzzled words as he watched the mammoth plant grasp its brothers and sisters with its giant hands... hands?
Hands?
“HANDS?!” Screamed the bloody bay stag as reality finally clicked into place. Opal eyes widened and watched in horror as the creature heaved itself from the soil, it’s eyeless face seeming to be peering into his very soul, “You-shouldnt-have-hands-you-shouldn’t-be-moving-you-better-stop-that-stop-it-fella-yikes-yikes-yikes-shit—”
Raglans words poured out in a breathless string as he scrambled backward, wings hanging forgotten at his sides, their feathered tips dragging unceremoniously across the rocky earth. All the fighting spirit of the stallion fled out of him in that moment as he was filled with the absolute knowledge that regardless of how fast he ran or how strong he was, there was no escaping an ancient with a goal in mind. Attempting to swallow past the dryness in his throat, Raglan wheezed out a prayer to Tempus that he wouldn’t be smashed to a sad pulp beneath the root-hands of the sentinel.
And just as he was sure that it was all over, certain that Raglan Silvertongue, Crow thief extraordinaire, master of flight and ego, and notorious lady turner-offer, would be no more, the ancient spoke into his mind.
“In due time...” Came the timeless, depthless timbre of the towering elemental as it reached into the thick canopy near its top and offered something small and dual-hued to the leggy pegasus. “In due time, Little Denocitan.”
The words that hummed through Raglan in their immortal power held no cruel inflection. On the contrary, the voice was kind, almost benevolent in its tenor, and the Silvertongue felt a warm comfort spread through his chest as a result. With limbs shaking from the influx of unused adrenaline, Raglan moved closer to the sentinel with tentative steps. Lowering his head in a show of respect while peeking up through pale lashes, the orphaned Crow worked to catch his breath. As he peered over the oaken edge of the elemental’s palm, he stallion sucked a breath in through his nose, eyes immediately drawn to the glistening bloodstone that lay amidst the tangled vines and branches that made up the tree-man’s hand.
“For me?” Came his quiet question, incredulity written over every line in his young face, “Thank you..” Carefully, gently, Raglan used his innate telekinetic gift to lift the emerald and scarlet stone from the sentinel’s grasp and tuck it securely in the joint of a folded wing. “It’s beautiful. I will string it on a necklace and wear it always... But why wake up for me? Why the gift?”
@'Random Events' @inkbone Random events doesn’t like me to tag it so I’m tagging inkipoo
