morozko
and all our footprints in the snow.
Night had become his refuge from the heat. Morozko was not made for the thick press of a humid summer, or sunlight like a physical weight; he was born for crisp mornings and frigid dusks, for winds that moaned and bit. During the day, he sought what escape he could, familiarizing himself with the corridors and rooms of the citadel, seeking shade in the forest or wading through running water from the streams fed somewhere higher in the mountains. This, for him, was like a cool cloth on a fevered forehead; he felt half-mad and sweat-slick most of the time.
It was not a good mindset for a Warden.
Beneath tonight’s set of constellations he’d been out on a lonely patrol, walking the borders of Terrastella because it was better than doing nothing. Though a fair bit of the soldiering life was waiting, Morozko was ill-suited to idleness. He preferred giving his body something to do - preferably something strenuous - to better keep his mind from turning down dark corridors and asking questions for which he had no answers. There had been too many of those, of late.
He knew he wasn’t the only one prone to pre-dawn wandering, and his silver-eyed gaze had struck the mare a few minute before, striding through a patch of moonlight. At first his mind went to Inkheart, also black and gold - but there were no wings on this creature, no rose. He was caught between relief and disappointment, but it was curiosity that drew him near - the stranger wore a glowing necklace, just as Inkheart had.
And so he followed her, slipping through the fading darkness with the dew slick against his hocks, as she made her way back to the citadel. He made no effort to conceal himself, but none to announce his presence, either; he was in no hurry. The unicorn would catch her when he did.
But she caught someone else first.
The dappled stallion paused, dropping his head so that his near-translucent horn sent a shiver of light through the new dawn, and watched her approach the man. He’d seen him before, but never at a moment he could introduce himself; nevertheless he was interested, his soldier’s eye not blind to the stories the man’s body and scent told.
Now was as good a time as any to hear them, and he continued forward, though the way they stood - the mare, especially - made him wonder if this meeting was more than chance. There was something caught about her, the way the light of her locket illuminated the expression on her face. But it was too late to slip discreetly away; and anyway, if they were looking for privacy, there were better places for it.
Morozko stopped a comfortable distance from both of them, his gaze sliding from one face to the other with the beginnings of a smile in one corner of his dark mouth. “Not interrupting, am I?”
@Arion @Morpho
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