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He stretched and looked around through his blue eyes. Blinking at the dawning sunlight, he yawned and turned to look at his coat – it was always a marvel to him, the way it changed by the minute. But to his surprise, it was locked in a single color. He moved, and realized his stars didn’t move with him. His eyes widened. Now, he wasn’t a vain man by any means, but he was used to his coat changing colors to match the sky, and the stars would move to mirror the constellations he was under. He bolted and twisted to look. Nope. Not a single change. What was wrong with him? He stopped and spun, trying to get his coat to work again. Nope. With a groan he stamped the ground and wrinkled his nose. It would seem that his coat was going to mirror the night he was born. Five years ago. His coat was a dark blue with a healthy splash of stars. With a resigned sigh, he decided he needed to find out where he was, and why the magic stopped working. He had never really thought about it before, but now, without his coat doing what it did, he felt lost. He could no longer look at the constellations on his body and find his way. Now he had to rely on…well…the sun, and others. The thought scared him. He preferred solitude, but he wouldn’t turn away company if it came to him. He moved around slowly, each step falling precisely where it was meant to. His eyes scanned the area, looking for any sign, any obvious marking to tell him where he was. Without finding any, he continued on, through the few whispering trees and into the clearing. He could smell water. Turning his blue body, he headed straight for it, and took his time. He was not a hurried creature. While he was ambling, his mind went back to the days when he had a purpose – he was one of the Seven Binders; the seven great humans who were able to bind the greatest necromancer the world had ever seen. Each one had offered something to bind the creature and bury her as deep as they possibly could. Bone, metal, wood…each layer was imbued with their voice; each voice having a different effect. His voice was one that would fill the creature with sorrow, and throw it into death. He was proud to be able to be used for such a purpose. And with that, all of their voices had been turned into bells to be used by the good necromancers – the ones who put the dead to rest and protected the world. What greater honor could you possibly ask for? As the water approached quickly, his thoughts turned to the beauty of it. Clear, cold, wet. He stepped into it, until he was up to his knees in the refreshing ebb and flow. Lowering his head, he drafted a cool drink, marveling at the thought of taste. How strange that water had no discernable taste, and still, it was the most refreshing thing you could possibly ask for. The sound of hooves nearby called to his attention, and with a languid grace, he raised his head and turned, a half smile on his face to greet whomever it was that was approaching him. |
| Astarael Dawn Court |
@Nimue - wanna play? ;)
