When he finally enters the court, Raam looks like some strange swamp creature. The mud mixes with the black and brown paint of his coat until it is not clear where horseflesh ends and wet earth begins. His thick mane and tail hang heavy, matted and tangled with mud and debris. He favors his left foreleg but cannot remember exactly how he hurt himself... For some time he had released himself to instinct, and in that state of mind memories have the uncertain quality of looking through an oil slick. Whatever happened, the pain had not come until later, after the fear had worn off. Later, when the haze of shock took hold.
In his many, many lifetimes, Raam had never experienced a storm like this.
This is not the appearance he had wanted to make. He had spent many months preparing for his official entrance to the court, learning about this world, planning the exact words he would say to appeal to the kings and gods of this land. Now he limps past the open gates, wide-eyed and bedraggled.
"Water," he calls weakly to a jeweled man who seems to be helping the many strangers huddled here. A bit of perspective suddenly strikes his loopy mind-- it rains for days on end and he asks for water?? He laughs then, the deep belly laugh of the exhausted and the insane (feeling a heavy mix of both) and considers a punchline, but in his deep thirst the words fall short.
"Please." He has never sounded so much like a dying man and at the sound of his own voice he starts to laugh hysterically once again.
-
@Relic and anyone else <3
