forget all the names we used to know
“He understands?” The colt ponders curiously, at first. Everything else: that the chestnut was a shifter, that he was from Tephra, that the two were oddly at ease with one another - flies right out the door. Crevan stares at him for a moment, just plain stares and then, when it seems that the moment has gone on for a bit longer than it should, he nods.
“Good, good.” He says in reply to his previous questions. The shaking, foreboding sort of mood that had shrouded him since he awoke begins to rise and finally, his reality settles firmly into place. With Ledger’s closing, hesitant question the colt’s ears shoot forward and his head perks subtly. “I was… god I’ve no idea what to call that place.” Crevan shudders, extending his own rounded nose so that the two might exchange scents. A kin move, perhaps - something long forgotten by the regular palfreys of Beqanna but kept alive by those who trade their skins. With that soft greeting Crevan has it; Ledger’s calling card, his unique scent - and he tucks it away for later recall, should he need it.
“Creatures that you couldn’t dream of, battles I never expected to win. I thought,” He pauses, head rocking slowly side-to-side as his neck curves inward once more “that I would surely die there.” The boy finishes, allowing the words to drift seamlessly into the breeze. “Perhaps you did.” His conscious supplies. He doesn’t debate it. “But here I am, healthier than ever, actually.” The boy finishes with an upturned glance at the hidden bear.
“I’m Crevan.” He remembers suddenly, and the name slips free almost as a bark. “And you’ve been there before - the Underneath place?”
revan