lysander
A dark-edged ear twists at the sound of that hum, the little sound of thinking he’d heard from few others. Florentine hummed like that, when she was pleased or preoccupied, and somehow this warms him to the stranger. Still, he says nothing to fill the brief silence, and only watches as the striped man’s gaze turns up and away.
Oh, but he recognizes something of the worry that twists his mouth, then, the distance in his gaze – but what of that? Such an expression was not uncommon in Novus, especially here at the apparent end of days.
Whatever place the stranger is thinking of, Lysander had never expected the answer to be anything good.
Even so he is still surprised at the report, and feels his heart darken further toward the gods of this place. Whatever cruel games they played, he wanted no place in them – but he’d long since lost his choice in such matters.
Grimly he nods, in agreement with the clear ill feelings of the other. “I wonder if they are causing it, or allowing it to happen, or incapable of ending it.” His words are low, dark as tangled undergrowth, and he knows regardless of which truth it is the gods would find little forgiveness for their vanishing. These disasters may well be the breaking of an already beaten people.
He is surprised again when the stranger draws nearer – more bold than he had initially supposed. Lysander examines the stallion in kind, passing an equally curios gaze once more over the fox until he is caught by the vivid purple of the man’s eyes. When the other looks away, the antlered stallion does not.
“A little of both,” he says – vaguely if not untruthfully – and smiles when the little fox extends its narrow nose. “And to see what useful things might be left in the mountains. Terrastella is low on herbs and remedies – the past months have taken their toll in every conceivable way.” Of course he says nothing of mistletoe, or any other poison he sought – such intentions were something he would hardly share with friends, much less a stranger whose face he could hardly make out beneath their mask.
Almost he asks of the stallion’s business – Lysander had not missed the way he said this court, and some ways from home, and how he did not seem to count himself a member of any place yet named. Instead, he tilts his head once more toward the fox. “How long have you two traveled together?”
@Kauri random side note, I love all your art of him! I keep seeing it around DA and it's all gorgeous!
