galileo kodarki
Anyone could see that Galileo had been suffering of late, but the fact he had let nobody close since he had entered these lands meant that nobody cared. He had taken to hiding himself away in what he had heard be called the Elatus Canyons on the whispers of the wind, and they had offered a private refuge for the horse who longed to be devoid of all attentions. A hermit of sorts, the stallion withered away in his palace of rock.
It had given him time (perhaps too much of it) to think, and for once he had allowed his mind's own musings. A warrior on the battlefield did not think, he felt, and he acted accordingly. He'd always left the intelligence to his younger sister, keeping occupied with honing his skills instead of flexing his brain. War waited for no one, and ran at its own pace.
Under the spell of the cliffs he had made homely, he trekked through them at his usual drifting pace. He was truly too large for some of the narrow passageways, and so struck out on the wider ones with hopes that he would not get stuck. It brought his mind to peace if he walked, and didn't stop. And so he moved onwards, round and round the canyons, finding different paths as and when he could.
Approaching a narrow passage, Galileo slowed, as he always did, and went to place his feet carefully forward. There was no daintiness about him; he was never delicate in his movements. One hoof, two hooves, and then suddenly, his body dropped forward as he missed his footing.
Leg plunging down into the rocks underneath him, he cursed as he tried to steady himself, stopping so as not to fall any lower. A sharp pain shot up his leg, and he quickly realised it was stuck, planted between the boulders. Angry at himself for being so incredibly idiotic, he attempted to pull upwards, but the pain made him wince and he gritted his teeth. Well and truly stuck, he instantly looked around for help, only to be greeted with nothing but the beauty of the canyons -- and that was not what he needed in that moment.
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@Willoughby
It had given him time (perhaps too much of it) to think, and for once he had allowed his mind's own musings. A warrior on the battlefield did not think, he felt, and he acted accordingly. He'd always left the intelligence to his younger sister, keeping occupied with honing his skills instead of flexing his brain. War waited for no one, and ran at its own pace.
Under the spell of the cliffs he had made homely, he trekked through them at his usual drifting pace. He was truly too large for some of the narrow passageways, and so struck out on the wider ones with hopes that he would not get stuck. It brought his mind to peace if he walked, and didn't stop. And so he moved onwards, round and round the canyons, finding different paths as and when he could.
Approaching a narrow passage, Galileo slowed, as he always did, and went to place his feet carefully forward. There was no daintiness about him; he was never delicate in his movements. One hoof, two hooves, and then suddenly, his body dropped forward as he missed his footing.
Leg plunging down into the rocks underneath him, he cursed as he tried to steady himself, stopping so as not to fall any lower. A sharp pain shot up his leg, and he quickly realised it was stuck, planted between the boulders. Angry at himself for being so incredibly idiotic, he attempted to pull upwards, but the pain made him wince and he gritted his teeth. Well and truly stuck, he instantly looked around for help, only to be greeted with nothing but the beauty of the canyons -- and that was not what he needed in that moment.
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EASE MY TROUBLES, THAT'S WHAT YOU DO