The secrets we keep..
He did not drift in the dark sea for very long, it quickly felt cold on his face. The sensation roused him to consciousness, he gasped at the sharp pain in his left side. Each inhale brought him new waves of agony with it, and crimson flooded from his mouth. His ears twitched toward the voice, toward the one throwing snow on his face. Silas opened his eyes, he lifted his head with a great amount of protest from his body. A groan escaped his pale lips as he shifted himself onto his belly. Silas' legs were strewn out in front of him, like a colt who had fallen on ice rather than fallen from the sky. Silas found the man who threw snow on his face to rouse him, perhaps he was concerned he'd be blamed for an unusual death as the only witness. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he studied the stranger, though the pain nearly caused him to lose consciousness again. The man was made of gold, with ivory horns protruding from his crown. In his left ear was an earring connected by a chain, it impaled two different sections of the same ear. They had green eyes, but they were not kind.
Silas didn't care much for the motives of others, especially if it benefitted him. This certainly seemed to be one of those times. Silas noted the strange crest of feathers upon the withers of the man who woke the native of Muramir. He noticed the primitive markings along the other man's spine and along his hips. The old mage didn't speak at first, he was trying to gauge just how badly injured he was. How far had he fallen? The ground below the snow was not soft, though it was not made of jagged stone, thankfully. "Well... this certainly isn't Muramir..." Silas spoke to the stranger, the words came out choppily. His lungs protested each breath, and he could taste the iron in his mouth. The purple and ivory mage did not dare try to stand yet, the edges of his vision were still shrouded in shadow. His mismatched gaze did not leave the stranger, not yet. "I suppose neither of us expected that. As thrilling as it is to discover interdimensional travel, I have no magic to make it reappear. Since this isn't Muramir, you probably have no idea who I am. That's good for a change, even better you didn't just leave me here in the cold I suppose. I wouldn't blame you. Horses don't just fall from the sky any old day, do they? Where is this place?" He rambled on, his choppy speech continued on. It was a wonder that a man who had just experienced such a jarring event could have such a sense of humor and curiosity about his new situation.
Silas did not fear the unknown or the possibility of catastrophic results of magic. He had devoted his whole life to the study of it by now. His magic being absent allowed him to realize that he was probably aging at a normal pace once more, he would have to change that. Whatever world he was in had to have magic, or else this would be a very strange version of hell for him, and yet, it would be a perfect one. The pale mage finally moved to struggle to his feet, his vision grew darker for a few moments and the pain in his left side increased dramatically. Upon his feet, Silas noted he was only about a hand taller than the stranger. Who would ever believe a tale so tall? The one about the man who fell from the sky, and stood up. The one who did not die. Silas could hardly believe it himself. "I'm Silasthein. I just go by Silas though... Also... does this world have healers that you know of? I'd make it worth your while to tell me where to find them... and where you live. I can't have you running off with debt hanging over my head, and leave me with no way to pay it." He spoke, a smile upon his face despite the situation. He wondered if this man would accept his offer for payment in exchange for knowledge, as well as the help he provided in stirring Silas back to consciousness.
A sputter of air escaped Silas' lips, more crimson spilled upon the snow. "Sooner rather than later. I don't think that's a very good sign. What a strange day this is, even for a magician." The last sentence was more of a comical reflection on the whole situation than directed at his companion.
Words: 779 | Notes: I adore Lock <333 No worries about 'novels' I love to read them c: | Tags: @Silas didn't care much for the motives of others, especially if it benefitted him. This certainly seemed to be one of those times. Silas noted the strange crest of feathers upon the withers of the man who woke the native of Muramir. He noticed the primitive markings along the other man's spine and along his hips. The old mage didn't speak at first, he was trying to gauge just how badly injured he was. How far had he fallen? The ground below the snow was not soft, though it was not made of jagged stone, thankfully. "Well... this certainly isn't Muramir..." Silas spoke to the stranger, the words came out choppily. His lungs protested each breath, and he could taste the iron in his mouth. The purple and ivory mage did not dare try to stand yet, the edges of his vision were still shrouded in shadow. His mismatched gaze did not leave the stranger, not yet. "I suppose neither of us expected that. As thrilling as it is to discover interdimensional travel, I have no magic to make it reappear. Since this isn't Muramir, you probably have no idea who I am. That's good for a change, even better you didn't just leave me here in the cold I suppose. I wouldn't blame you. Horses don't just fall from the sky any old day, do they? Where is this place?" He rambled on, his choppy speech continued on. It was a wonder that a man who had just experienced such a jarring event could have such a sense of humor and curiosity about his new situation.
Silas did not fear the unknown or the possibility of catastrophic results of magic. He had devoted his whole life to the study of it by now. His magic being absent allowed him to realize that he was probably aging at a normal pace once more, he would have to change that. Whatever world he was in had to have magic, or else this would be a very strange version of hell for him, and yet, it would be a perfect one. The pale mage finally moved to struggle to his feet, his vision grew darker for a few moments and the pain in his left side increased dramatically. Upon his feet, Silas noted he was only about a hand taller than the stranger. Who would ever believe a tale so tall? The one about the man who fell from the sky, and stood up. The one who did not die. Silas could hardly believe it himself. "I'm Silasthein. I just go by Silas though... Also... does this world have healers that you know of? I'd make it worth your while to tell me where to find them... and where you live. I can't have you running off with debt hanging over my head, and leave me with no way to pay it." He spoke, a smile upon his face despite the situation. He wondered if this man would accept his offer for payment in exchange for knowledge, as well as the help he provided in stirring Silas back to consciousness.
A sputter of air escaped Silas' lips, more crimson spilled upon the snow. "Sooner rather than later. I don't think that's a very good sign. What a strange day this is, even for a magician." The last sentence was more of a comical reflection on the whole situation than directed at his companion.
... The lives we lead
