 If Charlemagne knew the paternal feelings that flitted through Camdis’ thoughts, real as the pull toward the relic, he would have been astonished. His own father had viewed him with a persistent mixture of disappointment and exasperation, barely kept in check by his mother’s rather more blind love. The unicorn didn’t fault them for it; they weren’t the outlier, he was. They’d only wanted somebody who would fit his people’s society. Perhaps, once they recovered from the initial shame of having their heir vanish, they would be as glad as he was that he’d left. At any rate, he is unused to praise, even for something he has as little to do with as his own name. He flushed beneath the dark stallion’s words, willing them to drown out his own feelings regarding it (weighty hopes, a title too heavy for him to ever bear). In that moment, it seemed like he could live up to his moniker. Someday. All he could manage in response was a soft “Thank you,” but his shining eyes spoke more eloquently of what the words meant to him. The chestnut stepped back to give more room to the stallion as he clambered to his feet, watching with a kind of shy awe as he unfurled to his full height and breadth, his mane a waterfall of thick hair, his horns a graceful and mighty arch. Camdis Lohir, a name that sounded to him as elegant and powerful as those horns. He’s even more reverential as the stallion continues speaking, his eyes widening and ears swinging forward at the words. So casually he mentioned being king! And to think of such a man, coming here to be a healer - it made Charlemagne feel less foolish for his own decision. It also made him feel terribly unqualified, when the once-king turned a piercing gaze on him and asked what he thought. Somehow he managed not to gape or to stammer, and remembered his upbringing enough to draw himself up and dip his head with a gracefulness most rare for him. “I am glad to have met you, Camdis Lohir,” he said, and as he lifted his head again he hoped that the stallion had already forgotten their ‘meeting’ began with Charlemagne nearly falling on top of him. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask, a hundred stories to beg from the male, but Camdis had asked for his own thoughts. “Well…” he trailed off, flicking an ear and watching the wildflowers bob and nod their heads. “Maybe we should split up? We’ll cover more ground that way, anyhow.” He was reluctant to suggest they separate so soon, but there was also the fear that if Camdis Lohir spent another ten minutes with him, he would rescind his compliments. No; better not to hinder the stallion. Never mind that he didn’t know anything about the relic beyond its existence; surely he would know it once he saw it. That was always how adventures worked. “Where can I find you again?” @Camdis is a hero! I’m glad Charles ran into him. I’d love to thread again (and soon!) but thought we could wrap up for the maze/to avoid falling too far behind timeline? |
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