01-22-2019, 06:56 PM
The colt was slightly embarrassed at his own timidness. He glanced away when the other stallion laughed, and Nazariy let out a sigh between his teeth, closing his eyes and knowing that this was something that would be a footnote on the way he was viewed. Closing his eyes for a moment, Nazariy laid down one fact he could gather, that he could construct himself to be- a jokester, a fool who played for others. He could play that role easily, could act easily. When you had nothing, when you were nothing, that was only ever fuel for what one could be in the future. He imagined someone had told him that, once.
The stallion asked for Nazariy's name, and for a moment he was stunned into silence. Then he remembered the name that had formed on his tongue, when he had come to the awareness of himself all those miles ago. With nothing belonging to him, he had known that something would have to be constructed to fill the hole within him, and so he had started with the name. Cruising along the paths toward this land, slowly moving toward this field in a land with endless promise, he had listened and smelt and tasted. He had felt syllables beneath his tongue. Prefixes and suffixes and middles colliding beneath his teeth: Cash-, and Tar- and -Riel. Cashriel, Cashtar, Tariel. None of them had been right.
Then the slow flow of an N, dipping into the sharp shallows of an -az, dipping up over the consonant and back into the vowel. Nazariy. The name filled his mouth like a promise.
After what seemed like days but must only have been seconds, the colt clearing his throat and announcing the harsh, soft word. "Nazariy." He allowed himself to relax, letting out a long, low sigh. "May I ask of yours?" his voice was quiet and respectful.
The stallion asked for Nazariy's name, and for a moment he was stunned into silence. Then he remembered the name that had formed on his tongue, when he had come to the awareness of himself all those miles ago. With nothing belonging to him, he had known that something would have to be constructed to fill the hole within him, and so he had started with the name. Cruising along the paths toward this land, slowly moving toward this field in a land with endless promise, he had listened and smelt and tasted. He had felt syllables beneath his tongue. Prefixes and suffixes and middles colliding beneath his teeth: Cash-, and Tar- and -Riel. Cashriel, Cashtar, Tariel. None of them had been right.
Then the slow flow of an N, dipping into the sharp shallows of an -az, dipping up over the consonant and back into the vowel. Nazariy. The name filled his mouth like a promise.
After what seemed like days but must only have been seconds, the colt clearing his throat and announcing the harsh, soft word. "Nazariy." He allowed himself to relax, letting out a long, low sigh. "May I ask of yours?" his voice was quiet and respectful.