RENWICK
Sometimes there was a need to use something to cover up the cracks, to cover up the scars and to detract from the way the earth warped beneath hooves. To chase away the thoughts of dark clouds overhead, a bitter warning for worse days and terrible nights. Renwick braided flowers in his hair as a distraction, to remind himself that there were great and good things in the world worth fighting for. A handful had lovingly been braided at the eager insistence of an admirer, with a velvet muzzle pressed against his cheek. Others had been hastily braided by orphans, who looked at him as if he was the stuff of legends, and other foals who had soon joined in. The flowers covered up the grooves and cracks, brought a little bit of sunshine when the clouds got a little too heavy to stand beneath.
They also detracted from the wolf's teeth, a sharp and jagged maw foolishly overlooked in favor of believing the Knight one of Flowers and merry jousts. Rather than a Knight who had stood triumphant on a field of blood, a spear lodged in the throat of his enemy. Those moon colored eyes devoid of the life and mirth which often burned within them.
But that was such a minor part of it these days. Now that the banners had been stowed away, waiting patiently, eagerly, for the day that they might be called upon again.
Renwick responded to her chuff with a quirk of his lips, not quite a grin but more than a smile. It would be easy to assume a hundred different reasons why the red mare had come to Calligo's mirror, after all, there are stories buried here lost to time. They too, will become a story lost to time, when they're not only gone from this place — but entirely. Connected to the ones that came before by the singular knowledge that the Lake offered a sense of peace when the World became weighted with questions and difficult decisions. Ah, to hear them from the mouths of the departed, how many ghosts wandered here without their stories of woe and ruin spoken, and unanswered. How many whose visits were far happier?
There was nothing romantic about war, that was true. But then not many had seen it, they had not seen the blood and the terror in the eyes of their bannermen and their enemies.They had not set their naive eyes upon the battlefield in the aftermath. When souls raged and whirled, separated from their mortal bodies and loved ones, all for foolish and selfish reasons. Reasons they never understood. He had gone to war like that, so naive, so foolish. So gallant the bards in the inns had made it sound, even when he had squired, he could not have known the true reality until he was in the thick of it. Renwick had received glory, but it had been a shallow feeling. Ash in his mouth as Rhen congratulated them, even if his eyes never matched the smile plastered on his dark maw. The cheers did not bring the warmth he had remembered, medals did not bring the dead back. Time did not make the scars fade.
Renwick did not use his title lightly, but honor demanded he announce it, regardless of the weight it carried.
Rhoswen Levoire.
Silver pools glittered and glimmered in the light as he inked that name into his mental home, committed the image of her beside it. Halo'd by Dawn's light. "Please, the pleasure is mine, Lady Rhoswen. But, Renwick is fine. I despise titles." The knight muttered, a grimance upon his features. "Makes me seem older than I am." He added as an afterthought, a low chuckle sounding in the back of his throat.
"We never left, really." Renwick answered easily enough, his gaze flicked back over the waters momentarily, before they returned to Rhoswen's. They had faded, it was true, away from the image of Denocte's army to an image which brought joy. The feeling of protection. "The World is changing once again, and we would not sit idly by as it does, for better or worse."
TAG; @Rhoswen
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