03-30-2016, 01:34 PM
The stillness is home to him.
This mare will come to know the quiet of the Dale, should she choose to remain. It is pervasive and equated with the mountainous land; it is all he’s known since his childhood. But rather than scorn the silence that curls like fog through the pines, Ramiel relishes it. Other than his comfort in it, he finds it makes the noise all the more enjoyable when it fills the land. They have always been a small kingdom, after all. Nobody expects the Dale to be as bustling as the Amazons or to grow a reputation as infamous as the Chamber. This doesn’t mean they have escaped the drama, though - they’ve had their fair share of it over the decades. But their response has always been to lapse back into the quiet comfort of Dalean sanctuary at the conclusion of chaos. It’s written in their stories; it’s based in their blood.
And it suits him, more than perhaps it should.
The woman before him jumps at the rumble of his voice. Too quiet, he thinks, she’s nearly left her skin behind in her fright. “Sorry,” he says easily, dipping his head to give her time to compose herself. If a simple ‘hello’ can scare the living daylights out of the residents, what does it say about their reluctance to engage with each other? Fortunately, changes will come with the spring. It is time to build from within now that the war is behind them.
Zaravich, as he soon learns her name, is only the beginning of this rebuilding. She’s petite and pretty (not requirements to fill his new quota, but aspects the young man notices nonetheless) and quickly recovers from her scare. Her face illuminates, even under the weakened autumn sun, and he finds himself smiling in return. But when she begins to bow, he protests, shaking his head lightly. “Please, there is no need – I am happy to make your acquaintance.” And he is, more than happy. Because while he doesn’t mind the silence, it has perhaps lingered too long without pause. Faces have begun to disappear without promise of returns, taking the familiar reassurance of their voices with them into the gloom. He thinks of his parents, Exemplary, Kellyn, Elysteria.
Not Weir, thankfully. Zaravich mentions his name and Ramiel’s smile grows again. “I have no doubt his tour was both gracious and informative – perhaps even exhaustingly so?” The grey and gold stallion laughs under his breath but eyes the girl all the same. He is always curious to see how receptive others are to Weir’s odd ways. Of course, their opinions hardly matter to him - Ramiel would be the first in line to defend his strange but loyal mentor.
“They are,” he says in response to the mare’s question. “My lands and your’s, if you want them to be. We are like a family here.” He looks once over the hills rolling away from them, dipping into the low-point of the river below. Its’ surface sparkles; standing along its shore is his favorite place to be in the entire kingdom, he thinks he’ll go to it once this conversation ends. War had taken him away from too much: his hideouts, his home, his family. More than anything, though, he’s glad to have his mind returned to him. Too many nights were spent wondering, worrying. Now that it’s over, he feels free of many (but not all) of his burdens. “Are you looking to live or work here? Or both? You are welcome either way.”
This mare will come to know the quiet of the Dale, should she choose to remain. It is pervasive and equated with the mountainous land; it is all he’s known since his childhood. But rather than scorn the silence that curls like fog through the pines, Ramiel relishes it. Other than his comfort in it, he finds it makes the noise all the more enjoyable when it fills the land. They have always been a small kingdom, after all. Nobody expects the Dale to be as bustling as the Amazons or to grow a reputation as infamous as the Chamber. This doesn’t mean they have escaped the drama, though - they’ve had their fair share of it over the decades. But their response has always been to lapse back into the quiet comfort of Dalean sanctuary at the conclusion of chaos. It’s written in their stories; it’s based in their blood.
And it suits him, more than perhaps it should.
The woman before him jumps at the rumble of his voice. Too quiet, he thinks, she’s nearly left her skin behind in her fright. “Sorry,” he says easily, dipping his head to give her time to compose herself. If a simple ‘hello’ can scare the living daylights out of the residents, what does it say about their reluctance to engage with each other? Fortunately, changes will come with the spring. It is time to build from within now that the war is behind them.
Zaravich, as he soon learns her name, is only the beginning of this rebuilding. She’s petite and pretty (not requirements to fill his new quota, but aspects the young man notices nonetheless) and quickly recovers from her scare. Her face illuminates, even under the weakened autumn sun, and he finds himself smiling in return. But when she begins to bow, he protests, shaking his head lightly. “Please, there is no need – I am happy to make your acquaintance.” And he is, more than happy. Because while he doesn’t mind the silence, it has perhaps lingered too long without pause. Faces have begun to disappear without promise of returns, taking the familiar reassurance of their voices with them into the gloom. He thinks of his parents, Exemplary, Kellyn, Elysteria.
Not Weir, thankfully. Zaravich mentions his name and Ramiel’s smile grows again. “I have no doubt his tour was both gracious and informative – perhaps even exhaustingly so?” The grey and gold stallion laughs under his breath but eyes the girl all the same. He is always curious to see how receptive others are to Weir’s odd ways. Of course, their opinions hardly matter to him - Ramiel would be the first in line to defend his strange but loyal mentor.
“They are,” he says in response to the mare’s question. “My lands and your’s, if you want them to be. We are like a family here.” He looks once over the hills rolling away from them, dipping into the low-point of the river below. Its’ surface sparkles; standing along its shore is his favorite place to be in the entire kingdom, he thinks he’ll go to it once this conversation ends. War had taken him away from too much: his hideouts, his home, his family. More than anything, though, he’s glad to have his mind returned to him. Too many nights were spent wondering, worrying. Now that it’s over, he feels free of many (but not all) of his burdens. “Are you looking to live or work here? Or both? You are welcome either way.”
R A M I E L
this is a man pulling at his iron chains
ooc: just let me know if/where you want her on the board! =)