While his face may have been a mask of interest and solemn curiosity, Raglan's mind was racing within his bejeweled skull. It wasn't as if the lad had never seen injuries - he had seen things among smog choked streets that could turn a warborn veteran into a squealing filly at his dam's teat. But the solemnity with which Camdis spoke, the responsibility that he lay out before the youth took him by surprise; he had never thought about the emotional turmoil that might accompany such a position within Denocte. No, the silver haired yearling hadn't taken the time to consider the possibility that his heart could be hurt in the line of duty. He swallowed and felt his jaw tighten as worry slithered down his spine and questions battered themselves against the confines of his skull.
Am I strong enough to be their shoulder? Can I withstand the emotional drain? How can I know? Will I dash myself upon the rocks of my dreams? If I fail, will they hate me?
On and on they circled, nearly blinding him as he stared at the blank anatomy chart that Camdis had placed before him. In truth, before the lad had come to the Palace, he had been illiterate to the fullest extent - he hadn't even been able to identify his numbers. Despite that, though, Camdis had sat with the winged youth for hours on end, building memory through repetition and application. He had even trusted Raglan to read court documents aloud, stating that if he were to be a message runner for the crown, there was no reason he couldn't be privy to the knowledge that came with his station. With a glance at the feather quill that he had plucked from his own wing during his last molt, Raglan's mouth went dry.
If he wrote on that sheet, if he began his education formally as a caretaker, he wouldn't be able to look back. He would have committed himself and Camdis to this future that he wasn't even sure he could withstand. Raising his pale gaze to the similarly moonlike eyes of his teacher, Raglan heard the plea in his voice as he spoke, "Camdis Lohir, I don't --" his words were cut off, however, when he noticed his guardian's attention shift from his face, to something behind him.
Cocking his head to the side, Raglan watched the scarlet stallion transform; the muscles about his eyes and mouth softening, his small smile growing ever so slightly, nostrils flaring as if to catch a scent. Raglan noticed the sudden tension in the musculature of his tutor's chest, as if it was suddenly hard for the stallion to breathe. All of these changes were minute, nearly unnoticeable and surely unknown by Camdis himself, but the Young Crow had become accustomed to seeing that which others did not. Distantly, he wondered if Reichenbach (for who else could elicit such a response from the Regent? The heat between the pair was blistering and unrequited) ever noticed the change in his Second when he came around. After all, the King had been fostered among the orphans of Denocte as well.
Without turning, Raglan nodded to his King and felt a smile blossom over his dark lips at the sound of his hero's voice. As the orphan sovereign made himself comfortable at the page's side, his velvety voice contending with the crackling of the hearth, Raglan felt a rush of confidence; if Reichenbach could go from orphan to warrior to King, the bloody bay lad could go from Crow to page to Caretaker. Stretching a wing out to brush against the sovereign's side in greeting, Raglan concentrated on the diagram before him and began to fill in the blanks.
He would rise even if it killed him.
Am I strong enough to be their shoulder? Can I withstand the emotional drain? How can I know? Will I dash myself upon the rocks of my dreams? If I fail, will they hate me?
On and on they circled, nearly blinding him as he stared at the blank anatomy chart that Camdis had placed before him. In truth, before the lad had come to the Palace, he had been illiterate to the fullest extent - he hadn't even been able to identify his numbers. Despite that, though, Camdis had sat with the winged youth for hours on end, building memory through repetition and application. He had even trusted Raglan to read court documents aloud, stating that if he were to be a message runner for the crown, there was no reason he couldn't be privy to the knowledge that came with his station. With a glance at the feather quill that he had plucked from his own wing during his last molt, Raglan's mouth went dry.
If he wrote on that sheet, if he began his education formally as a caretaker, he wouldn't be able to look back. He would have committed himself and Camdis to this future that he wasn't even sure he could withstand. Raising his pale gaze to the similarly moonlike eyes of his teacher, Raglan heard the plea in his voice as he spoke, "Camdis Lohir, I don't --" his words were cut off, however, when he noticed his guardian's attention shift from his face, to something behind him.
Cocking his head to the side, Raglan watched the scarlet stallion transform; the muscles about his eyes and mouth softening, his small smile growing ever so slightly, nostrils flaring as if to catch a scent. Raglan noticed the sudden tension in the musculature of his tutor's chest, as if it was suddenly hard for the stallion to breathe. All of these changes were minute, nearly unnoticeable and surely unknown by Camdis himself, but the Young Crow had become accustomed to seeing that which others did not. Distantly, he wondered if Reichenbach (for who else could elicit such a response from the Regent? The heat between the pair was blistering and unrequited) ever noticed the change in his Second when he came around. After all, the King had been fostered among the orphans of Denocte as well.
Without turning, Raglan nodded to his King and felt a smile blossom over his dark lips at the sound of his hero's voice. As the orphan sovereign made himself comfortable at the page's side, his velvety voice contending with the crackling of the hearth, Raglan felt a rush of confidence; if Reichenbach could go from orphan to warrior to King, the bloody bay lad could go from Crow to page to Caretaker. Stretching a wing out to brush against the sovereign's side in greeting, Raglan concentrated on the diagram before him and began to fill in the blanks.
He would rise even if it killed him.
AAAAA IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS THREAD SORRY FOR THE MUSE EXPLOSION <3 thank you so much for Raglan my hunni he's an angel
