06-27-2015, 10:26 PM
We are at war. There will be scars.
There is nothing awkward about Erebor. There is nothing ungainly about Erebor. There is indeed nothing at all that one would expect from a horse who, at almost three years, is just now on the cusp of manhood.There is nothing childlike about Erebor. And there never has been.
It is almost as though he'd sprung more from what Straia would wish a child to be, than what a child actually should be. As though he'd been conceived in her mind, and sprung forth, fully-formed and Athena-esque right from the shadows of Straia's consciousness. How many lifetimes has he lived? Who can say. Perhaps too many, perhaps only one. He is nothing like a child should be, but everything like a prince should be. He is a walking contradiction, he is everything and nothing.
In short, he is Erebor, and he will grow up to be everything his mother had hoped for.
Perhaps he already is.
Killdare gives his name, and Erebor's nod is gentle, acknowledging and respecting, but not quite deferential. When the stallion asks his question, Erebor answers him first with a charming smile. His mother speaks up then, and the colt's gaze shifts to her. His chuckle is genuine, if small. "As far as I know, only one." His rich voice is heavy with wry humor. "For most of us here in the Chamber, that's about all we've got." Leave it to the others, with their magics and their magicians. Leave it to them to live life after life, to buck the threads of time and turn the normal cycle of life on its head. There are no immortals here, only old souls.
"I'd bet you've seen your fair share of the world." he nods gently, conversationally to Killdare. "Tell me, how did you find your way to Beqanna?" he pauses for just a breath, before adding – with a smile - "And I apologize if I'm making you repeat what you've already told my mother. I can't help but ask. New perspectives and new experiences fascinate me."
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia