G A R E T H
If Gareth were to be honest with himself, he had been secreting glances at the mare all the while. He didn’t allow his gaze to linger, knowing such stares would be inappropriate at the best of times. However, as they had traveled together he had started to take note of her physique, of the peculiar way her flesh rippled with an almost scale-like hide in some places. The best way he could describe it would be akin to some of the larger lizards he had heard of residing within Solterra. The was intimately familiar with the many forms a scar might take, the telltale signs of wounds that had been cared for in a crude manner. He had stopped trying to count the ones he had seen peppering her hide, though some were harder to dismiss than others; large, ugly knots of flesh peeking out from behind armor or her unruly hair. It didn’t bother him, for Gareth had made acquaintanceship with many who lead rugged lives. Scars were no stranger to his vision, in his personal life and his line of work. He believed her when she said that she was not a stranger to the pain.
Still, it did not dismiss his instincts to make things easier for her. Life had clearly dealt her a harsh hand, and she had fought with every tooth and claw to survive it’s trials. He wanted to provide her with a more gentle alternative, so she would at least carry the knowledge that the world was not always so cruel to its inhabitants, that kindness for the sake of it still existed within people.
He had been keenly aware of her presence at his side as he spoke of the nature of Bonded creatures. He had sensed the ripple of disbelief, almost disgust, at the idea of trappers. A smile tugged at his lips. She was honorable, then, noble, even. Even a predator had it’s codes, some sort of moral or ethical ties, even if they did not align with those it hunted. What was good for the spider was often chaos for the fly, as it were. He wondered only briefly what it might have been like if Noor had seen her first approach and had made the attempt to fight her off. The thought was not appealing and he dismissed it quickly.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said in response to her query. “I’ve only heard of it between a horse and other non-horse beings. Though if it’s possible for us, I imagine that it’s also possible for other beings, too.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, clearing a nasty branch from the path, watching it skitter away.
Her laugh, though unexpected, was a very pleasant sound. It tickled the inside of his audits and pulled his lips into a wide grin. He decided he would like to hear that sound more often. His intention to pull her out of her shell was working, just a bit. Pangaea was no longer acting as a starving, scared animal. She was still in desperate need of proper medical attention, but, dare he even consider it- the mare might have been starting to feel some sense of security, of comfort with him. That was very good. He would need her to trust him if he were to be able to treat her wounds properly.
The contact, through brief, sent flutters across his skin. He had known the touch of many creatures, though almost all of them had been feathered or furred in some variety. The leathery texture of her flight appendages was entirely different. He noticed how she carefully handled them, being mindful of the spined knuckle at the apex. It was fascinating, really. The closest relation he could think of was bat-like. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, he concluded. Even with the inclement weather, the heat from her body radiated to her wings, and so the touch had been almost welcome, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise chilly atmosphere. She apologized quickly, almost bashful in her response. The stallion simply shook his head. He had not been offended by the action, and the trail would only continue to narrow, at least in this section. They would either be brushing against each other or she would need to move behind him again, which would likely send them into silent contemplation. He would prefer their conversation continue, though he seemed to have been holding the bulk of it until now.
Pangaea opened up. It was a gentle thing, uncertain at first. She spoke of her brother, of their abandonment as children. His heart lurched at the words, spoken so matter of fact. Never in his life had he met a herd that would leave their young for dead. Children were the gift of the gods, to be cherished, nurtured, protected and brought to thrive at all costs. Anger flared in him briefly, thinking of two young creatures left alone to defend themselves in a world that was far more cruel than he was likely to ever know. The sign of tears at the edge of her vision did not escape his notice before she averted her gaze. The ache of loss washed over him, and he knew without having to ask what had happened.
The mare moved closer to him, and Gareth met her, lightly pressing his body to hers, though they still had room on the trail. The warmth he found there quelled the nerves he felt at the injustice done to this woman. There was supposed to be balance in all things, and for her to have suffered so much must mean that grace was coming for her. If Gareth was the one chosen by Caligo to bring peace into her life, then he was grateful to do so.
“My grandmother was the one who raised me,” he said, watching the clouds as they darkened over the ridge. “I didn’t have the chance to know my parents, and I had never felt the need to ask what had happened to them. I had speculated as a child, but it ultimately didn’t matter. They were gone, but my grandmother was there. She was all I needed.” His smile was gentle as he continued.
“To describe my grandmother is a lot like what it is to describe an immense force of nature. She was full of wisdom, knowledge that to this day I am unsure how she acquired. She taught me everything there was to know about the plants of the earth, their uses, properties, and how to care for them.” The stallion turned his gaze to Pangaea, his orbs the colour of whiskey. “How to use them to heal the sick and the wounded. She taught me the ways of the world, of this plane and the next, and all the various things between.” He chuckled. “Even in her age, I had never known her to be anything but bright and fiery. No time for nonsense dithering. She spoke plainly, and she was direct, regardless of your feelings. You’d know if she didn’t like you, but if you needed help she would help you anyways.”
Gareth grew quiet, and then motioned to the vial that hung from the chain around his neck. “I was so lost when she passed away. But I keep part of her with me, always. Whenever I am distraught, she grounds me. Whenever I am unsure, she guides me.” He glanced back to the mare, head held low, keenly aware of their shared body heat.
“I think she would have liked you, Pangaea,” he said finally, his tone husky, but gentle. “She would have tended your wounds, offered you shelter and taught you all of the things that you wanted to know if you had asked her.” He took a steadying breath and then looked forward to the trail again.
“I heal those around me because that is how I was raised and I don’t think I could live any other way if I tried. But I also do it to honour her memory, and I like to believe somewhere beyond the veil she is proud of the man I have chosen to become.”
Still, it did not dismiss his instincts to make things easier for her. Life had clearly dealt her a harsh hand, and she had fought with every tooth and claw to survive it’s trials. He wanted to provide her with a more gentle alternative, so she would at least carry the knowledge that the world was not always so cruel to its inhabitants, that kindness for the sake of it still existed within people.
He had been keenly aware of her presence at his side as he spoke of the nature of Bonded creatures. He had sensed the ripple of disbelief, almost disgust, at the idea of trappers. A smile tugged at his lips. She was honorable, then, noble, even. Even a predator had it’s codes, some sort of moral or ethical ties, even if they did not align with those it hunted. What was good for the spider was often chaos for the fly, as it were. He wondered only briefly what it might have been like if Noor had seen her first approach and had made the attempt to fight her off. The thought was not appealing and he dismissed it quickly.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he said in response to her query. “I’ve only heard of it between a horse and other non-horse beings. Though if it’s possible for us, I imagine that it’s also possible for other beings, too.” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, clearing a nasty branch from the path, watching it skitter away.
Her laugh, though unexpected, was a very pleasant sound. It tickled the inside of his audits and pulled his lips into a wide grin. He decided he would like to hear that sound more often. His intention to pull her out of her shell was working, just a bit. Pangaea was no longer acting as a starving, scared animal. She was still in desperate need of proper medical attention, but, dare he even consider it- the mare might have been starting to feel some sense of security, of comfort with him. That was very good. He would need her to trust him if he were to be able to treat her wounds properly.
The contact, through brief, sent flutters across his skin. He had known the touch of many creatures, though almost all of them had been feathered or furred in some variety. The leathery texture of her flight appendages was entirely different. He noticed how she carefully handled them, being mindful of the spined knuckle at the apex. It was fascinating, really. The closest relation he could think of was bat-like. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, he concluded. Even with the inclement weather, the heat from her body radiated to her wings, and so the touch had been almost welcome, a flicker of warmth in an otherwise chilly atmosphere. She apologized quickly, almost bashful in her response. The stallion simply shook his head. He had not been offended by the action, and the trail would only continue to narrow, at least in this section. They would either be brushing against each other or she would need to move behind him again, which would likely send them into silent contemplation. He would prefer their conversation continue, though he seemed to have been holding the bulk of it until now.
Pangaea opened up. It was a gentle thing, uncertain at first. She spoke of her brother, of their abandonment as children. His heart lurched at the words, spoken so matter of fact. Never in his life had he met a herd that would leave their young for dead. Children were the gift of the gods, to be cherished, nurtured, protected and brought to thrive at all costs. Anger flared in him briefly, thinking of two young creatures left alone to defend themselves in a world that was far more cruel than he was likely to ever know. The sign of tears at the edge of her vision did not escape his notice before she averted her gaze. The ache of loss washed over him, and he knew without having to ask what had happened.
The mare moved closer to him, and Gareth met her, lightly pressing his body to hers, though they still had room on the trail. The warmth he found there quelled the nerves he felt at the injustice done to this woman. There was supposed to be balance in all things, and for her to have suffered so much must mean that grace was coming for her. If Gareth was the one chosen by Caligo to bring peace into her life, then he was grateful to do so.
“My grandmother was the one who raised me,” he said, watching the clouds as they darkened over the ridge. “I didn’t have the chance to know my parents, and I had never felt the need to ask what had happened to them. I had speculated as a child, but it ultimately didn’t matter. They were gone, but my grandmother was there. She was all I needed.” His smile was gentle as he continued.
“To describe my grandmother is a lot like what it is to describe an immense force of nature. She was full of wisdom, knowledge that to this day I am unsure how she acquired. She taught me everything there was to know about the plants of the earth, their uses, properties, and how to care for them.” The stallion turned his gaze to Pangaea, his orbs the colour of whiskey. “How to use them to heal the sick and the wounded. She taught me the ways of the world, of this plane and the next, and all the various things between.” He chuckled. “Even in her age, I had never known her to be anything but bright and fiery. No time for nonsense dithering. She spoke plainly, and she was direct, regardless of your feelings. You’d know if she didn’t like you, but if you needed help she would help you anyways.”
Gareth grew quiet, and then motioned to the vial that hung from the chain around his neck. “I was so lost when she passed away. But I keep part of her with me, always. Whenever I am distraught, she grounds me. Whenever I am unsure, she guides me.” He glanced back to the mare, head held low, keenly aware of their shared body heat.
“I think she would have liked you, Pangaea,” he said finally, his tone husky, but gentle. “She would have tended your wounds, offered you shelter and taught you all of the things that you wanted to know if you had asked her.” He took a steadying breath and then looked forward to the trail again.
“I heal those around me because that is how I was raised and I don’t think I could live any other way if I tried. But I also do it to honour her memory, and I like to believe somewhere beyond the veil she is proud of the man I have chosen to become.”
"Speech" | | @Pangaea |
