D A M A S C U S
Introductions were soon made, and immediately Damascus felt far better acquainted with the strangers he had fallen before and hwile they both seemed full of wise words, remarks and their own opinions, Damascus was happy to take after their comments and direction (because truthfully, he had no clue what he was doing). The woman was a warrior - a fierce and nimble kind, or so she looked. Seraphina. Damascus wasted little time practising her name like he normally might, so instead rehearsed it in his airy head as he traced his eyes over the mountainside in search of shelter, his wings remaining open and wide with the offer of a makeshift umbrella. Obviously this was a man who had little experience in traversing mountains - in fact, this was his first time ever stood upon a mountain's top and while normally he would be quite in his element up so high, right now he was very unnerved by the oncoming tempest. The other was Kaladin, a brutish man who despite being at least six inches shorter than the colt seemed so much bigger. Perhaps it was the strength that resided under his skin or the calloused, hardy frown he seemed to wear relentlessly upon his countenance; intimidating to say the least. Damascus who while frightened of the man had not allowed his fear to grip him and, after the brute bellowed something about lightning in his direction the gangly stag simply turned tail and took his place beside him, ready to follow. The lad's tail which by now was becoming overwhelmingly heavy from the rain would be the next obstacle - raking it in once they had found a hiding place would make for one hideous task. Kaladin spoke, soon followed by a sharp compliment from Seraphina. As the woman of glass skin and eyes of swords and fists spoke, Damascus found himself wishing to retreat ever-so-slightly, fearing the wisdom of both those in his company. This woman, though; she did seem gentler - as gentle as any warrioress could be. Or perhaps she appeared to him like the fox to a gaggle of geese. A mirage. To the cave Daascus would attempt to flee, pinned almost in place by the weight of his tail. Dragging the lofty banner along the ground begin him, Damascus set out to pull the appendage like he might a sled - only this was a great deal more painful. Gritting his teeth, grunting and pulling, the young fellow soon managed to heave his masses of hair up and over the last of the ascending terrain until he could step inwards toward the caves mouth, not thinking nor fearing what could possibly be inside. "!!!” |
