amaroq
in his own country
Death can be kind
Death can be kind
It interests him, the way this stallion is so content to watch the world bustling far below, distant and inconsequential, and not the creature who just declared himself god.
Not that he is vain - or at least, not terribly. Not any more than a lion in its prime whose mane is full and claws are sharp and eyes are terribly bright. But it is strange, for Amaroq, to be so near a man so seemingly indifferent to his sharp teeth and the way his horn points like an accusation or a question.
But his words make the keplie smile, and settle back, and soften his gaze to something more curious than hungry. “As good a guess as your one for the use of this place,” he says, and at last draws out from the shadows to stand alongside the chestnut. He, who fears nothing at all from his company (though he still wonders about that small moon that trails the stranger like a satellite) casts his gaze down, too, where the horses bustle like seagulls following sharks. They are too far to hear - the only sound is the wind and the waves that run up against the cliffs and their breathing - and for that he likes the temple even more.
The unicorn is a friendlier thing when he is not irritable, and he is always made irritable by the squabbling commotion of land-horses.
Even as he feels Metaphor’s gaze on him, he does not return it; instead he shifts to watch the waves, glittering bright as diamond dust beneath the sunlight. It is too far to leap, and ah, for a moment he wishes for wings. Amaroq is not accustomed to wishing himself anything other than what he is, and it clenches something dark below his breastbone.
“I am Amaroq,” he says, still staring out over the waters, “of the sea.” A small smile twitches at the corner of his mouth, but the kelpie offers nothing more. He has already given enough: Metaphor is the first to receive even his name.
@Metaphor | "speaks"
<3
<3
