and all their words for glory
well they always sounded empty
well they always sounded empty
There is the slightest shift upon the other man’s face, and for a brief moment Ulric wonders if he hasn’t somehow upset him. One ear ticks back as he attempts to read him, to gauge what reaction he might offer be it with words or actions, but the roan finds himself to be struggling – reading anything more than an adversary’s next move is something he has never been particularly gifted in.
Seconds tick by in increasingly uncomfortable silence, though the roan offers no signs of backing away nor does he exhibit anything but concern towards the equine. Quite honestly, if anything, it’s almost disturbing how long he stands unmoving and completely quiet, as though he were waiting for something. But what? Just as the warrior begins to open his mouth and ask again if everything’s alright, the black finally speaks and the concern that tainted the stallion’s gilded eyes soon shifts to confusion.
The names that he speaks are foreign to Ulric’s ears (even if they both reside in the Dawn Court – clearly somebody needs to get out more) and he hums beneath his breath before finally giving a shake of his head. “Afraid I’ve never heard of ‘em,” he responds with a look of sympathy, “I’m sorry.” Before he can say much more, the other stallion continues, and patiently he listens.
Ulric can’t help but to think of just how strange his name is – Only – but his request is simple enough, and his plight a seemingly dismal one. From what little time the roan has spent in Delumine, he can tell that those who call it home are kind and seem to carry good intentions within their hearts. There were plenty of roles to be filled here, and even if Only wasn’t immediately sure where he would fit in, there would be plenty of opportunity for him to find his niche.
“The more the merrier, I always say,” he quips with a quirk of dark lips, and with that he nods off in the distance behind him, a vague gesture to follow. The citadel isn’t much more than a spec on the horizon, but the walk wasn’t nearly as bad as is looked. Turning, the roan assured that he was following and made certain to always keep him within view, for Ulric knew better than to let his guard down around those he didn’t know, especially when alone. “The name’s Ulric; I serve the Dawn Court as one of its warriors. We’re comprised mostly of sages, but we’ve got a few medics and commoners among us as well." On top of that were those that ruled on a higher plane, such as the Council and the Regime, but he figured that went without saying.
Then, he turns the knife on Only and inquires something for himself out of sheer curiosity. “Do you mind me asking where you came from, before you, ah… ended up here?”
Seconds tick by in increasingly uncomfortable silence, though the roan offers no signs of backing away nor does he exhibit anything but concern towards the equine. Quite honestly, if anything, it’s almost disturbing how long he stands unmoving and completely quiet, as though he were waiting for something. But what? Just as the warrior begins to open his mouth and ask again if everything’s alright, the black finally speaks and the concern that tainted the stallion’s gilded eyes soon shifts to confusion.
The names that he speaks are foreign to Ulric’s ears (even if they both reside in the Dawn Court – clearly somebody needs to get out more) and he hums beneath his breath before finally giving a shake of his head. “Afraid I’ve never heard of ‘em,” he responds with a look of sympathy, “I’m sorry.” Before he can say much more, the other stallion continues, and patiently he listens.
Ulric can’t help but to think of just how strange his name is – Only – but his request is simple enough, and his plight a seemingly dismal one. From what little time the roan has spent in Delumine, he can tell that those who call it home are kind and seem to carry good intentions within their hearts. There were plenty of roles to be filled here, and even if Only wasn’t immediately sure where he would fit in, there would be plenty of opportunity for him to find his niche.
“The more the merrier, I always say,” he quips with a quirk of dark lips, and with that he nods off in the distance behind him, a vague gesture to follow. The citadel isn’t much more than a spec on the horizon, but the walk wasn’t nearly as bad as is looked. Turning, the roan assured that he was following and made certain to always keep him within view, for Ulric knew better than to let his guard down around those he didn’t know, especially when alone. “The name’s Ulric; I serve the Dawn Court as one of its warriors. We’re comprised mostly of sages, but we’ve got a few medics and commoners among us as well." On top of that were those that ruled on a higher plane, such as the Council and the Regime, but he figured that went without saying.
Then, he turns the knife on Only and inquires something for himself out of sheer curiosity. “Do you mind me asking where you came from, before you, ah… ended up here?”
HISTORY HAS ITS EYES ON YOU
➳
all contact is permitted and encouraged
