Unlike Weir, Ramiel is a frequent visitor to the mountain-stream.
He’s been utterly enchanted with it since the day it appeared in the kingdom. The mystery of it makes him feel like a boy again, a puzzle meant to be solved, even if he has no idea how to do so. He’s mostly charmed by the creature that seems to inhabit the waters. It has grown since he first found it, peering back at him with its beady, expressive eyes. Back then, it had been little more than a ball of fluff, indistinguishable as any sort of proper animal. He half expected it to turn into a monster like the ones at the end of the world, even, so strange was its shape.
The grey stallion doesn’t know if the others ever venture up there. They’d talked about it, of course – everyone seemed to know that all the lands were gifted in different ways – but everyone was tight-lipped about the whole affair. Ramiel wonders if, like him, they’re worried it will not last. As the years have passed, he’s grown rather fond of the animal that appears to him. If it and the waters that nurture the creature were to disappear, he thinks he’d even miss it.
He makes the trek now, on this overcast, chilly day. It’s quite a journey up to the hilltop, but he is glad for the exercise and fresh, mountain air. A sudden movement just above him puts him instantly on guard, considering his recent thoughts of losing their source of power (they’ve been instructed to care for and guard it, after all). But a familiar flash of red puts him at ease. “Weir!” His voice is hoarse and loud, echoing more than he’d intended. Somewhat sheepishly, he hurries to catch up to the other stallion.
It’s been a while since they’d had a chance to talk one on one. The last time he’d seen the quirky man, he’d been forced to flex his authority a bit, silencing Weir from further offending the Gates party. He hated having to do it, and he considers apologizing before thinking better of it. Doing so now will only undermine the fact that he’d needed to chastise the roan at all. Better to move on and put it behind them. Ramiel smiles at the professor. “I didn’t expect to see you up here. Not your usual scene.” He’s never seen Weir up here, in fact, though he must know what’s at the end of the path. “Have you come to see the pool for yourself? You won’t be disappointed.” He winks, conspiratorially. Nothing else can make him like the boy Weir first met than their telling-pool. He feels like a colt about to show off his hidden copse-fort to his best mate.
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale
ooc: feel free to join in anyone else! I just had a lot of muse...lol