It was the crying, keening wail that drew Lysander.
The sound rose above the sigh of the wind and the calls of a flock of geese passing well overhead. He had the dubious luck of being nearby, once more crossing the treacherous space between the court proper and the hospital, and it did not take the stallion long to reach a most curious scene.
No part of it made sense, but these were strange times.
He looks between the eerie (and perhaps angry, though he cannot make out her expression beneath the mask) mare, the golden, curl-horned man, and the keening gopher, who bears a peculiar and almost opalescent sheen. The pillar of light bathes them all in faint gold.
When he speaks it is the man he addresses, though Lysander’s gaze does not move from the huddled brown creature until he is nearly finished speaking.
“Was it left, or drawn by the light? If the latter, it isn’t the only one.” Stranger is left off the wry words, but is implied all the same. Lysander has been around the Dusk Court long enough to recognize the majority of the faces – especially now that they are so few – and the golden man’s is not one he’s seen before.
A stranger’s arrival in the wake of destruction was an odd thing. But then again, so was an oversized rodent with a fading glow.
For the moment he keeps his distance, interested in the outcome but unwilling to interfere; but as he eyes the animal the corners of his dark mouth draw down. The memory of standing at the mouth of a narrow subterranean hallway is enough to make him shift where he stands, and cast his gaze back toward the collapsed fields. “I hope whatever made those tunnels doesn’t show up next.”
you fester in the daytime hours
boy, you never sleep at night
toot toot worst post award. also I'm away til the 23rd, so whoever responds after this feel free to imagine he's just observing and making wry remarks
