[AW] So gracefully they rose

[Anonymous]

A N O N Y M O U S Perhaps he thought there would only be the two horses to watch? Instead another joins, and this is one he actually knows. Finnian, the stallion he had stumbled upon out in the meadow, joined the flowery girl and mud-covered stallion. Anonymous watches with shadowed eyes as the buckskin approaches other two, smiling as he did. Owing a life? That bit of knowledge makes him curious - the tall youth seems unlikely to be a lifesaver of any sort, especially of someone like Finnian who seems like he can take care of himself without difficulty. A soft, sky-colored mate soon appears, rushing forward to join the clamor for the hero, the lifesaver. Their jubilation and rejoicing is practically overwhelming. "Oh it wasn't me it was him!" Followed by.. "Oh his path might have been so different!" What is this great attraction to those who save lives? What makes them heroes? After all, don't you call a warrior a hero when he defeats his enemy in battle? Do they not think of the cost of taking a life, of doing what must be done? But who is he to argue? Once he might have been like them, a hero in battle, defending the innocent. Now he kills for the have's, in their never-ending quest to remain the masters over the have-not's. Except, of course, when the assassin takes a pro bono case. After all, he is no heartless beast. Indeed, that powerful organ still beats hard inside his chest - it just happens to be mostly poisoned. None of them notice him. No one sees his judgmental stare, the lobes constantly swiveling as they take in his surroundings. Always aware, alert. They may sense his presence - a stranger in the darkness, a menacing figure that darkens their bright day. But how could they see him? He is a master of hiding, and in the darkness of the trees he has the advantage. He tells himself to stay put, to remain unseen but watchful, observant. The whispering voice inside insists that he appear, make himself known. Whatever motives that voice has, it offers a reason that is incentive enough to obey. How else will you get clients, if they are not aware of your existence? And you must learn to blend among them, not just in the shadows. Become the familiar face they will never see coming. Though he feels clients could seek him out without a neon sign leading the way, he cannot argue with the rest of the reasoning. Remain a stranger too long and they will pay even more attention when he does appear. With a barely concealed sigh, he leaves the shelter of the swamp trees and exposes himself to the gathering. The mud-covered youth breaks into a dance at the announcement of a festival. The assassin strides forward in obvious confidence, then dips his head in greeting, a debonair smile replacing his normally stoic expression. "A festival! I am sure the dancing will be to die for." His voice does not falter at his own joke. "Pardon my interruption, I was wandering by and heard the joy in your voices." He glances at all of them in turn and introduces himself, eyes gleaming. "I am Emrys. I'm afraid I have only had the pleasure of meeting Finnian, here." He dips his head again in the buckskin's direction. @Florentine @Damascus @Finnian @Cress

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