03-21-2020, 11:50 AM
L E P I S
i hear the voice of rage and ruin
An owl calls in the darkness, and Lepis’ blue ear flicks toward the sound. She is alert, and might have quickly dismissed the bird were it not for the silence of Topsail’s voice in her mind rather than her ears. She doesn’t need to hear the smoke gray woman in front her, so some part of her attention is able to remain on the shadows around them. There could be danger, her watchfulness might suggest, though there is no trace of fear in her voice when she speaks, only amused exasperation.
“The fairies.” she says with a nearly fond roll of her eyes. Lepis knows about the Fairies. Many of the horses she has met claim to know them, yet when Lepis had journeyed to the Mountain there had been nothing there but the echo of her own voice. She knows she is important enough for the Fairies to respond, and their absence was all the proof the dun mare needed. They were either not real at all, or she was simply not yet important enough. With each conversation she has about them though, Lepis becomes more and more convinced of the latter.
Topsail shares the key to adding emotion to her mental voice, and Lepis makes another attempt.
[Like this?] She knows it wasn’t quite right as soon as it leaves it her, but she also knows there had been an uptick at the second word, that there was just a little bit of hope and curiosity in it. Or had she just projected those with her empathic magic? The arcane skills are opposites, it feels, and controlling them both at once is more difficult than she’d imagined. The more she reaches for her thought projection the looser her hold on her empathic projection becomes
“I apologize if you get more than my words,” she says aloud. “A trick I inherited from my mother” More than a trick, of course, but the dun mare is not inclined to share much more with a stranger. Not even a stranger who’s helping her get a better hold of her abilities.
[Were you born with the ability, then?] Enquiring seems easiest, and each silent syllable sounds a little more natural than the one before it. If she projects a bit more curiosity, it is less than the first time. [I can’t imagine the trouble you could have gotten up to with this ability as a child.] There’s humor in her wordless voice, and a bit of wistfulness at the memories of her own youth.
@[Topsail]
“The fairies.” she says with a nearly fond roll of her eyes. Lepis knows about the Fairies. Many of the horses she has met claim to know them, yet when Lepis had journeyed to the Mountain there had been nothing there but the echo of her own voice. She knows she is important enough for the Fairies to respond, and their absence was all the proof the dun mare needed. They were either not real at all, or she was simply not yet important enough. With each conversation she has about them though, Lepis becomes more and more convinced of the latter.
Topsail shares the key to adding emotion to her mental voice, and Lepis makes another attempt.
[Like this?] She knows it wasn’t quite right as soon as it leaves it her, but she also knows there had been an uptick at the second word, that there was just a little bit of hope and curiosity in it. Or had she just projected those with her empathic magic? The arcane skills are opposites, it feels, and controlling them both at once is more difficult than she’d imagined. The more she reaches for her thought projection the looser her hold on her empathic projection becomes
“I apologize if you get more than my words,” she says aloud. “A trick I inherited from my mother” More than a trick, of course, but the dun mare is not inclined to share much more with a stranger. Not even a stranger who’s helping her get a better hold of her abilities.
[Were you born with the ability, then?] Enquiring seems easiest, and each silent syllable sounds a little more natural than the one before it. If she projects a bit more curiosity, it is less than the first time. [I can’t imagine the trouble you could have gotten up to with this ability as a child.] There’s humor in her wordless voice, and a bit of wistfulness at the memories of her own youth.
@[Topsail]
