His voice was the lash of a whip echoing down the passageways and cliffs that made up Solterra's Elatus Canyon. The sun was sitting low in the sky, fat and golden and so unbearably hot that the bloodied bay had sought the deep shadows of the canyon in order to cool off. Now, as the magic of the Relic Hunt tugged him ever forward, Camdis Lohir found himself glaring up the sheer rock face of one of the canyon's many walls. The Exile King looked around, half delirious with exhaustion and half mad with frustration, searching for something, anything to lash out at.
Bad luck, his was just bad luck. Forever and ever, an endless maze of poor choices one after the other.
"Stop feeling so bad for yourself, fat twit," he grumbled to himself, using himself as a target for his anger due to the lack of victims at his disposal. Peering up at the stone with eyes narrowed against the brightness - at least, that's what he told himself, he knew well enough that he was tired and that it would be unhealthy to go on, but he couldn't sleep in a land that wasn't his. He had to make it home, had to make it back to the arms of his demi-goddess and her beautiful, imposing, dark fortress.
At long last, the stallion came to the end of his patience, pacing back and forth at the bottom of the canyon, muttering angrily to himself and punctuating his rage with squeals and kicks at nothing. Snapping his teeth, Camdis growled at the insistent tug of the relic magic, the string wrapped around his heart tugging at him to go up up up the wall, onward to the relic! Onward to victory!
"I'm not a billy goat, how am I supposed to get up there?!"
He strode carefully across the canyon path, stones tumbling away from his hooves. Every one of his movements was amplified here - the quiet rolling of pebbles became a rockslide, and the skulking slow steps became ringing gongs. He had abandoned any attempt at secrecy long ago, and now simply walked ahead - sun beating heavily across his back, neck lathered in sweat. Mortal bodies were not very good at enduring, he'd noticed. A slight tip in the scale of heat or cold, and they would abandon ship, leaving the occupier to struggle for every little movement.
He glanced to the sky, squinting against the sun's bright glare. It seemed almost amused at his trials, glowing ever the brighter as the day moved on. He was already halfway through the pass when he at last caved and tuned back the way he'd come. But there was no longer a point in escape - he would suffer on, because there was a sliver of chance that he was on the right trail. At times, he felt that he would abandon hope, return to the Dawn court and lock himself within their expansive library, to breathe scroll dust and binding glue until he found a cure to his ailments. But then his collar would rattle, or blue gem would flicker to life, and he would be reminded that he would have to take the smallest chance as an absolute certainty. This world would need him free soon enough.
"Really?" the voice echoed down the cliff faces, bouncing cheerfully about the stonework. Kaladin turned in the voice's general direction - it seemed to be coming from further into the mountain pass. He tipped his head, eyes glimmering with calculation. Would it be worth risking company for the relic? He had made this miscalculation before and paid dearly for it. Still, his lonely wanderings had left his body starved for attention. It would bring some relief, at least, to have someone by his side. At least for a time.
He found the owner of the frustrated tones further down the canyon, glaring so reproachfully at the towering rocks that Kaladin would have thought they had insulted him. He was impressive, as mortals went - thought shorter in stature then Kaladin, his girth was twice that, powerful body accentuated by red tones and a pair of spiralling horns that reminded Kaladin of dragons he had seen in one of the library's scrolls. The man had enough allure that Kaladin approached, mortal body drawn to a fellow soul, especially one that promised protection. Kaladin felt that he could, for a time, endure this determined creature's company.
He walked up to the man and placed himself alongside, following his gaze up the clifface. "You know, glaring at the mountains is not going to make them move." he pointed out bitingly. The man was determined but foolish. It was a common quality amongst mortals, he'd noticed. Still, Kaladin was glad enough for company that his mood and speech remained rather upbeat."I would suggest simply searching for a proper path upwards. Unless you have magic - say, levitation?"
The stranger caught him off guard, so caught up in his own frustrations that he hadn't heard the echo of hoof steps or the shifting of hair over flesh.
You know, glaring at the mountains is not going to make them move.
Despite his wretched mood, the Camdis couldn't help the grin that curled at his lips, though he managed to hold back the snort of laughter that stirred within his broad chest. Staring sidelong at his company, the scarlet stained male took in the stranger at his side, noting the ram's horns and the dappled gradient of his skin. Striking amber eyes told of something far greater than the body the unnamed stallion occupied and Camdis wondered at sorcery and godsplay. There were enough tales in his previous kingdom to fill a library - of deities made flesh, imprisoned until their mortal cages rotted away beneath the weight of too few years.
Yet, he had never heard tell of a god-made-mortal offering rough advice and witty quips to enraged stallions smeared with the shade of their own sister's blood.
Opening his mouth to reply with an equally biting remark, Camdis Lohir thought better of it and instead turned his heavy skull to look at his anonymous comrade in full. He was simply made, but the elegance of his design was not lost on the Wretched King; smooth, carefully wrought lines followed a thin frame, lithe musculature that hinted toward a life yet untouched by strife or war, and a shining coat of burnished bronze and golden honey wrapping the stallion up into a rather pleasing image despite his spartan composition. Camdis gave a nod to the male, wry grin still twisting his lips but doing nothing to calm the tempest within his gaze - while company was well and good, he still had a damn cliff face to conquer.
A tiny voice piped up as he tilted his chin up to meet the horned stallion's gaze, his envy tugging upon the coattails of his pride, harrumphing at the stranger's slight advantage in the height department. Now the bloodied bay did snort a laugh, though it was more of a derisive stab at his own deep seated insecurities than contempt toward his newest acquaintance. Turning his attention back to the massive wall of stone and impossibility before them, Camdis allowed his voice to fall from full lips, tone dripping with a sort of sarcasm that encouraged camaraderie, "You can never be too sure, really," he arched a brow, glaring in full force at the obstacle towering over his path, "Maybe the mountain has had a bad day and a little verbal abuse is all the encouragement it needs to crumble."
He peered at the precipice, feeling again the yank of the relic's magic, "Besides," Camdis' voice was a bit lighter as he continued, "It's cathartic to rage at objects that won't hold a grudge."
Looking back toward the stallion at his shoulder, the bay stag offered a shrug and four syllables as introduction, "Camdis Lohir."
Of course, his own body was a rebel to his mind, and refused to acknowledge his previous divinity. It, as any of nature's creatures, desired companionship, and drew him towards other mortals in encouragement of socialization. It was odd, Kaladin thought, to think they might all die one day - even he would not be immune to such an unceremonious ending, should he remain unsuccessful in his searches. It was the thought that scared him most, and he quickly swallowed it down, guarding it carefully from the outside world.
Still, he was surprised to feel pleasure when the other man smiled, then laughed after sizing them up. Kaladin was not sure whether it was his mortal body tricking him into acknowledging his lonesome wanderings, or if he had truly been lonely. After Damascus' betrayal, he had vowed not to give his trust to anyone again - but friendship and trust did not go hand in hand. So he tentatively labelled his new acquaintance as a desired - if not sought out - companion, and allowed himself to participate in the motions as a mortal, dropping for a moment the thought that he was centuries older then the man, and an amorphous cloud of raw power at that.
"I do believe there are better ways to find reprieve," he pointed out, voice sarcastic. It felt good to encounter someone to match his wit and to battle words. Kaladin's body was weak in a physical fight, but his mind remained that of an eight-hundred-year old being with quips to match. "For example, I myself enjoy a good stroll." he cocked his head at the man and grinned. "I suppose we all have our ways. Some take walks, some play music, and some scream their lungs off at mountains." he shrugged, but his eyes glimmered with mirth. It was something he had never truly felt as a mortal. Or as a god. Or ever. He had simply never allowed himself to open up to this point. But if he were to be mortal, he would have to act it. At least for a time.
He turned away and paced his way down the base of the stonework, searching for a path to lead them upwards. His search being unsuccessful, he stomped his way back to Camdis (a name he intended to remember) and huffed out a breath of frustration, wondering if he would not begin to shout in at the cliffs as well. That would be ungodlike. Glancing at Camdis, he recalled a linchpin in mortal behaviors - when a name was given, it would be courtesy to give it back. "Kaladin," he said simply. Then, "Is it me, or does this relic get further away the closer you think you have gotten?"
@Camdis eek trying to get these done quick, hope it's okay uwu
The sun continued to sink as the pair considered the wall of stone and impossibility that stood before them, mocking them with it's solid silence and unmovable mass. Shadows stretched longer, as if they, too, sought some way out of the gods-forsaken canyon that had trapped them with such ease. Camdis looked about, eyes snagging on dry brush and a series of fleshy cacti - a rather unappealing fare for any creature save for the starving; yet, the crowned stallion and his companion may very well join the ranks of the desperate and hungry soon if they could not find their way out of the maze.
It was a desolate, depressing train of thought, but it seemed that the longer Camdis Lohir was upon the earth, the better he was at pessimism.
Everyone needed to excel at something, he guessed.
Briefly, he wondered at his new comrade and what skill set the stallion possessed, other than providing grouchy ex-sovereigns with a surprisingly pleasant reprieve from seemingly overwhelming frustration and looking markedly pretty. He was spared the task of asking as the stag's eerily detached voice sounded beside him, dripping with a sarcasm that Camdis found that he was beginning to greatly appreciate; there was a surprising lack of dry humored wretches in the lands of Novus, and it was a beloved symphony of bitter music to his cynical ears. Lips tilted upward as his audits swiveled their way toward the man at his side, a gravelly chuckle grinding it's way up from his scarlet and bay chest.
"Well, when you put it like that..." Came his murmured reply, moonlit eyes flashing with a cruel mirth as he left the rest of his sentence to the dust-riddled wind that snaked through the canyon, gaze following his companion as the bronze man made his way along the cliff face, those ancient eyes dissecting the rock for purchase. It was an effort not to grin outright as the stallion huffed in shared frustration, those amber eyes flashing with what seemed like centuries worth of rage. Flicking his tail, Camdis heard the massive gathering of locks thump to the ground in a less-than-ceremonial heap.
Then, as his comrade - Kaladin - offered his name, Camdis felt the distinctive tug of the relic's magic in his chest as he gave the stallion at his side a nod, voice rolling from his tongue and reverberating off of the serpentine passages in a cacophony of Camdis, "It does give the distinct feeling of an uphill battle that only gets steeper," He grimaced as the thread about his heart yanked harder, beckoning him up up up. "Currently, it is suggesting that I sprout wings like a damned harpy, but I'd rather find a meal."
Turning his head to face fully the stallion at his side, the bay caretaker motioned with his great skull toward the passage that Kaladin had emerged from, "Shall we begin the hunt for an exit, or does starving to death while staring at a mountain suit your tastes better?"
