02-28-2021, 07:20 PM
Lumineer
There is nothing peaceful about it, not really, and he thinks he’d give anything to feel the heat of the sun slant against his back. He aches for a mouthful of sweet meadow-grass, something to fill his belly until he’s heavy and sluggish.
He squirms beneath the unfamiliar weight of his sorrow.
(Perhaps he has not become as accustomed to as he’d thought.)
He is distracted by these thoughts when he hears the call for help. He lifts his head so abruptly that a few wilted flowers tumble out of his mane and land in the dust at his feet. He searches wildly through the dark for the source of the sound but cannot immediately find it. He moves carefully, lest he stumble over the distressed caller in the shadows. And then the call comes again, quieter this time, but he is able to discern the direction from whence it came.
He moves slow, head low, eyes narrowed until he can barely make out the crumpled figure. And then he hurries, dropping to his knees beside them. Always so eager to help. Isn’t it a wonder that the heart fits in that chest at all? He sucks in a sharp breath as he makes out the steady stream of blood as it streaks down the shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asks. Such a foolish thing to ask when the stranger is quite obviously not all right. It is only when he seeks out the face that he realizes this is not a stranger at all, but someone he had been thinking about only moments before. “Rosebay!” he gasps, reaching out to touch her neck gently. “What can I do to help?” he murmurs. He possesses no useful magic here save for perhaps the slightly antibacterial properties of the wolf’s saliva.
He squirms beneath the unfamiliar weight of his sorrow.
(Perhaps he has not become as accustomed to as he’d thought.)
He is distracted by these thoughts when he hears the call for help. He lifts his head so abruptly that a few wilted flowers tumble out of his mane and land in the dust at his feet. He searches wildly through the dark for the source of the sound but cannot immediately find it. He moves carefully, lest he stumble over the distressed caller in the shadows. And then the call comes again, quieter this time, but he is able to discern the direction from whence it came.
He moves slow, head low, eyes narrowed until he can barely make out the crumpled figure. And then he hurries, dropping to his knees beside them. Always so eager to help. Isn’t it a wonder that the heart fits in that chest at all? He sucks in a sharp breath as he makes out the steady stream of blood as it streaks down the shoulder.
“Are you all right?” he asks. Such a foolish thing to ask when the stranger is quite obviously not all right. It is only when he seeks out the face that he realizes this is not a stranger at all, but someone he had been thinking about only moments before. “Rosebay!” he gasps, reaching out to touch her neck gently. “What can I do to help?” he murmurs. He possesses no useful magic here save for perhaps the slightly antibacterial properties of the wolf’s saliva.
THROUGH THE DARKNESS TO THE DAWN
@[rosebay]