11-23-2019, 04:47 PM
Nish knows this place is Beqanna in name, but it is certainly not home. He combs the forests looking for familiar ground, searching for something--anything--that might lead him back to The Amazons or The Deserts but there's nothing to be found.
His eagerness to return home becomes panic when realization starts to set in. Dread pricks at the edges of his heart and he shifts, again and again, from the mundane to the magical. Whatever might get him home faster, whatever form might help him find a clue that would point him in the right direction at the very least.
He's an exhausted, wide-eyed little black cat when a voice whispers in... his ear? That doesn't seem right. It's too quiet. Distorted. Like someone speaking through a dense wall. But the feline manages to make out the word 'Deserts' quite plainly and it tugs him sharply in the direction of whoever sent the message as if there were an invisible hook in his chest.
From cat to sparrow, from sparrow to crow.
Nish settles in a branch above them, ruffling his feathers and tilting his head this way and that.
And then he hears Epithet speak those terrible words, confirming his suspicions.
The old queen starts in, accusing the poor mare of lying and this is when Tarnished chooses to hop down from his branch. The transformation is quick, if they blink they will miss it, and the large dark stallion stares them down coolly. "She isn't lying," he murmurs, lowering his head. His ears swivel back. He withholds the fact that his mother ruled the Deserts long after Craft's death and then his father after her, fearing he might overwhelm the poor ancient soul. "The Deserts was my home as well."
His eagerness to return home becomes panic when realization starts to set in. Dread pricks at the edges of his heart and he shifts, again and again, from the mundane to the magical. Whatever might get him home faster, whatever form might help him find a clue that would point him in the right direction at the very least.
He's an exhausted, wide-eyed little black cat when a voice whispers in... his ear? That doesn't seem right. It's too quiet. Distorted. Like someone speaking through a dense wall. But the feline manages to make out the word 'Deserts' quite plainly and it tugs him sharply in the direction of whoever sent the message as if there were an invisible hook in his chest.
From cat to sparrow, from sparrow to crow.
Nish settles in a branch above them, ruffling his feathers and tilting his head this way and that.
And then he hears Epithet speak those terrible words, confirming his suspicions.
The old queen starts in, accusing the poor mare of lying and this is when Tarnished chooses to hop down from his branch. The transformation is quick, if they blink they will miss it, and the large dark stallion stares them down coolly. "She isn't lying," he murmurs, lowering his head. His ears swivel back. He withholds the fact that his mother ruled the Deserts long after Craft's death and then his father after her, fearing he might overwhelm the poor ancient soul. "The Deserts was my home as well."
equus mutatio, immortality, disease manipulation, trait immunity