 | Hariel was a pseudo-parent. And not a very effective one. In the role of disciplinarian, especially, he was greatly flawed. While he slept, refusing to let the desert’s irritating heat rob him of a few more hours of rest, she had struck off again into the unknown. Now, sweat-glossed and more exhausted than before his nap, he was threading his way anxiously and meticulously across this new landscape in vain search of her impish figure. She had lulled him into a false sense of security, he decided. Clearly, she knew what she was doing and she had deliberately tricked him by behaving like a normal, appropriately attached child and hanging close to him for weeks - weeks - so that he would sleep soundly for once and she could escape. Of course, that wasn’t exactly true… she had never been particularly concerned with following the rules he tried to establish. It was definitely not the first time he had woken up to find her footsteps leading him onward, the faint scent of primrose in her wake. Hariel was large enough to deter most predators, and reasonably confident he could handle one that was desperate enough to pursue the tiny golden snack. These advantages, however, really only applied when she was within earshot. And now… now there were greater dangers. Horses, groups of horses, usually meant trouble. He had noticed the difference a few days ago; the unmistakable signs of other horses, of trodden paths, of engaged borders. He had said nothing to her, but she would have smelled them, as he did, last night as they drew nearer. Hariel had been planning to skirt around the whole place. He wasn’t sure what his reluctance was, exactly, but he had not intended to make himself – or the filly – known here. Obviously, she had had other plans. He broke into an easy trot, scanning the sand with narrowed eyes. He didn’t really expect to spot her, and his gaze kept catching on figments rising from the heated dunes, but the adrenaline kept his sharp gaze on alert. Taking no more than a minute to catch his breath, restraining his eager feet with difficulty to give his eyes ample time to turn over each mirage that he spotted. What was that? He paused, hungry for any morsel, any break in the monotony of his search. Voices. He pushed onward. Quite suddenly the Oasis opened up ahead of him. He halted abruptly, his feet sliding a little on the soft sand. Panting, Hariel turned to take in the full scope of his surroundings; the strangers, the (relatively) lush space, the decidedly unrelaxed atmosphere, for such a picturesque space. The day was waning, the light was soft, but still the sun made itself felt. He stood before the Oasis in his silence and his glory, his unspoken dedication, his hidden motive. His stance was that of a man braced against the calamity of the next horizon; the tension in his body superseded only by the calm austerity of his features. His face betrayed skepticism (somewhere at the corners of the eyes), but otherwise was consumed with the grim sobriety of a newfound insight. The heavy, rapid beating of his heart was muffled by the forced stillness of his body. He watched them, unwilling as yet to commit himself to their company. Reluctance was in every line of his burnished body; and he felt keenly the weight of his skin. He took a deep breath, and, struck out toward the nearest body on the Oasis. There was an imperceptible relaxation in the marble mask he was trying to hold up, and he grunted a greeting as he drew up to the other, just in case he hadn’t been noticed. “Excuse me,” he started, “I’m sorry to bother you, but, by any chance have you seen a little girl?” as he spoke the words he realized they might sound extremely strange. He tried to cover the weirdness by hurrying on “she’s somewhere around 6 months, shiny gold color. Looks nothing like me.” he added. Nice. Well done. That makes you look much less creepy. The sarcastic tone in the back of his head was irritatingly familiar. |
| Notes: speech OOC: Happy to talk to whoever might be around! | |
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