Ravin
07-10-2025, 09:44 PM
His roving eyes settle on a green horse, spotting her just as she comes to a stop. Had she been coming toward him, Ravin wonders?
The grey watches her with hardly a blink, as intent as a jay. Everyone outside his home is a stranger - he has never met anyone twice beyond those that dwell within the borders of the Gates. She looks in one direction and then another, confusion clear on her emerald face. Ravin tilts his head, but a bemused smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth.
Having met a Queen, a pair of eerie siblings, and what he is still quite sure was a ghost, at last this seems like an encounter that might not utterly terrify him. She says hello, and he’s about to say it back when she rushes toward him. No, past him, but he doesn’t realize that before he hops a bit backward in surprise, the movement aided by his already flared wings.
Perhaps she missed it while dunking her head, Ravin reasons, calming his racing heart, and shaking out his feathered wings and shoulders before tucking them in as she lifts her head from the water.
“The Meadow.” he replies, “This part of it used to be called the Field though, I think.” The Field had been somewhere nearby, he is sure, though whether or not it includes this particular stretch of grass and stream he’s less confident of. “In Beqanna. You know Beqanna?”
She’s looking him over, and perhaps he articulates a little more clearly than he usually might, ensuring she sees the sharp teeth that line his mouth. The teeth had come from the kelpies on his mother’s side, the ghost had told him, knowledge that had greatly reassured his Stratosian sire. His once golden coat has turned a dappled grey as he matures, accented by the colorful feathers, the bright eyes, and the wings of his Stratosian heritage. “I’m Ravin, by the way.”
The grey watches her with hardly a blink, as intent as a jay. Everyone outside his home is a stranger - he has never met anyone twice beyond those that dwell within the borders of the Gates. She looks in one direction and then another, confusion clear on her emerald face. Ravin tilts his head, but a bemused smile starts to tug at the corner of his mouth.
Having met a Queen, a pair of eerie siblings, and what he is still quite sure was a ghost, at last this seems like an encounter that might not utterly terrify him. She says hello, and he’s about to say it back when she rushes toward him. No, past him, but he doesn’t realize that before he hops a bit backward in surprise, the movement aided by his already flared wings.
Perhaps she missed it while dunking her head, Ravin reasons, calming his racing heart, and shaking out his feathered wings and shoulders before tucking them in as she lifts her head from the water.
“The Meadow.” he replies, “This part of it used to be called the Field though, I think.” The Field had been somewhere nearby, he is sure, though whether or not it includes this particular stretch of grass and stream he’s less confident of. “In Beqanna. You know Beqanna?”
She’s looking him over, and perhaps he articulates a little more clearly than he usually might, ensuring she sees the sharp teeth that line his mouth. The teeth had come from the kelpies on his mother’s side, the ghost had told him, knowledge that had greatly reassured his Stratosian sire. His once golden coat has turned a dappled grey as he matures, accented by the colorful feathers, the bright eyes, and the wings of his Stratosian heritage. “I’m Ravin, by the way.”