E I K
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The tent stands leaning slightly to the West as though already cringing from the inevitable sunrise. A warm light seeps invitingly through the cracked entrance, and from outside the muffled sounds of gentle music can be heard- a harp, played rather primitively but somehow more charming for it, and husky singing in a foreign tongue. Despite the closed doors (not really doors but entryway, as the structure is a few massive cloths draped over a wooden skeleton) the tent is remarkably inviting. Horses seem at ease entering and leaving, and even the night itself has a different feel here. There is a drowsy peace settled over the entire area, and the stars seem close to the earth despite the orange glow and smoke of the bonfires.
After a few moments of uncertain observation, the scarred grey man's curiosity gets the better of him and he steps forward to nose the entry curtain aside. Within the tent, oil lanterns cast a heavy warm glow over everything. Incense of some sort (sage?) mingles with horseflesh and oily smoke. A hole is cut in the middle of the ceiling so that the heat and smell and smoke and sounds do not become unbearable- and also for what comfort the moon pay provide as she struggles to pierce the orange haze of the tent.
The floor is covered with thick pillows and horses lay sprawled about, some engaged in slow conversation, others passed out in a comical splaying of limbs. In the center of the room, tea is poured into small bonze cups and swallowed in quick, wincing gulps. A slender mare wearing a golden mask beckons him in and lifts a small cup to his lips.
His heart races uncertainly against the calm pluck of the harp, but the mare has a kind look in her eye and the whole room exudes a sense of peaceful calm. So he downs the cup, refusing his body's urge to spit the bitter liquid out. The matron gestures for him to make himself comfortable.
The tea's effects begin to wash over him in about fifteen minutes. The first wave rolls over his body, easing out the aches in his muscles so completely that he begins to forget what pain ever felt like. Or rather- it is not a forgetfulness but a complete indifference. Next his mind begins to slowly, slowly peel away from his tattered horse form, and a faraway smile stretches across his lips.
Here, in the heavy-lidded state between sleep and consciousness, a place that once seemed a dotted line on the map now becomes the map itself. It seems to him the secret of happiness is upon him, but it doesn't matter anyway. Eik giggles softly at the thought, but the sound of it makes him abruptly stop. He reaches out and places his head on the rump of the horse next to him, meeting their sleepy gaze with his gleaming black eyes.
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Tagging @Soleil, @Florentine, @Sid, @Lysander
but any and all are welcome and encouraged to join the opium den <3
Time makes fools of us all
