and all their words for glory
well they always sounded empty
well they always sounded empty
It had been a day like any other - spent mostly dozing and attempting to get to know those who also called Delumine home. There were still so few faces he knew by name here, and even fewer that knew by more than just their names. The familiarity he felt around Somnus was always a welcome reprieve in a sea of strangers, but the gilded man was often enthralled by the mysteries of the library, of which Ulric held very little interest.
With the sun making it's descent to soon cast the land into darkness, the roan made his way towards the Rapax for a long, cool drink before beginning his nightly patrols. They had all been uneventful thus far, as they should be, but as he emerged from the hickories that dotted the bordered the river, his eyes fell upon a curious pair as they descended from the sky.
At first, Ulric wondered if they were just newcomers to Delumine - he had welcomed a couple of them already - but something just seemed off about them. Their activity seemed suspicious, even if it was mere soil that the painted man was scooping into his bag.
Boldly he stepped forth from the trees to walk alongside the river bank, keeping a cautious air about him as golden eyes roamed over the painted stallion and his ebony compatriot. From what he could tell, they would both tower well above him, but that mattered little in the eyes of the sentinel. Even if they did choose to attack, Ulric had faced countless foes of various shapes and sizes and he bore the scars to prove it, but hopefully... it wouldn't come to that.
"Excuse me," the roan speaks up as he approaches, brows furrowed as he peers over the bank at them as he tries to see just who they are and what on the earth they are doing. Now that he's closer, he can tell that the natural aromas of Delumine fail to cling to them, and immediately his apprehension grows.
Yet Ulric holds his tongue, for now; the last thing he needs is to unjustly chase anyone away when he is still a new face himself. "May I ask what it is you are doing?"
With the sun making it's descent to soon cast the land into darkness, the roan made his way towards the Rapax for a long, cool drink before beginning his nightly patrols. They had all been uneventful thus far, as they should be, but as he emerged from the hickories that dotted the bordered the river, his eyes fell upon a curious pair as they descended from the sky.
At first, Ulric wondered if they were just newcomers to Delumine - he had welcomed a couple of them already - but something just seemed off about them. Their activity seemed suspicious, even if it was mere soil that the painted man was scooping into his bag.
Boldly he stepped forth from the trees to walk alongside the river bank, keeping a cautious air about him as golden eyes roamed over the painted stallion and his ebony compatriot. From what he could tell, they would both tower well above him, but that mattered little in the eyes of the sentinel. Even if they did choose to attack, Ulric had faced countless foes of various shapes and sizes and he bore the scars to prove it, but hopefully... it wouldn't come to that.
"Excuse me," the roan speaks up as he approaches, brows furrowed as he peers over the bank at them as he tries to see just who they are and what on the earth they are doing. Now that he's closer, he can tell that the natural aromas of Delumine fail to cling to them, and immediately his apprehension grows.
Yet Ulric holds his tongue, for now; the last thing he needs is to unjustly chase anyone away when he is still a new face himself. "May I ask what it is you are doing?"
HISTORY HAS ITS EYES ON YOU
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all contact is permitted and encouraged
