12-19-2016, 10:24 AM
Ruan
There was a heaviness about him now. He'd changed, and he wasn't sure it was for the better. He was harder, colder. And each time he held his daughter close, spoke gently, it surprised him. The grotesque scars at his shoulders marked his catalyst; where a demon had violently torn his wings from his flesh and bone. That night something had happened deep inside him, changed him. Altered his easy affection to a hovering sense of chilled caution. Some battles were meant to be lost.
The openness of the Meadow itched at him, crawled along his skin. The number of scents assaulted him, engulfed his nose in confusion. So many. His Taiga was not so packed and stifling and he already wanted to return to it. Even in the Valley before the Reckoning he'd stayed at the borders, deep in the forest running with the wolves. He'd always be a bit wild.
Faces and faces. So many strangers. How was a leader supposed to choose who to speak to, who to offer a home to? Especially when home wasn't always as welcoming as one might expect. The Taiga had it's dangers, creatures and prowlers that stalked the forest, and not everyone was fit to survive it. He and Reagan protected them, always would, but a level of self-efficiency was required in the event neither were around to assist.
So he searched the faces, the bodies, for the fittest. Bright blue eyes passed over a mare and child and moved on. When he saw the man he hesitated. Maybe. Strength, for sure. A secret sort of stealth in the grace of his movements. A hunter in some way or another. Ruan pressed forward towards him. He nodded in silent greeting to the woman and child, unsure if they belonged to the hunter, then turned a black face to the lighter man.
Are you in search of a homeland? Damn, too blunt. Too wild. He'd never catch on to the dancing phrases of diplomats, the petty niceties of society. Maybe if Reagan were here, she'd know what to say. But the poor fellow was stuck with Ruan and his awkwardly straightforward honesty.
The openness of the Meadow itched at him, crawled along his skin. The number of scents assaulted him, engulfed his nose in confusion. So many. His Taiga was not so packed and stifling and he already wanted to return to it. Even in the Valley before the Reckoning he'd stayed at the borders, deep in the forest running with the wolves. He'd always be a bit wild.
Faces and faces. So many strangers. How was a leader supposed to choose who to speak to, who to offer a home to? Especially when home wasn't always as welcoming as one might expect. The Taiga had it's dangers, creatures and prowlers that stalked the forest, and not everyone was fit to survive it. He and Reagan protected them, always would, but a level of self-efficiency was required in the event neither were around to assist.
So he searched the faces, the bodies, for the fittest. Bright blue eyes passed over a mare and child and moved on. When he saw the man he hesitated. Maybe. Strength, for sure. A secret sort of stealth in the grace of his movements. A hunter in some way or another. Ruan pressed forward towards him. He nodded in silent greeting to the woman and child, unsure if they belonged to the hunter, then turned a black face to the lighter man.
Are you in search of a homeland? Damn, too blunt. Too wild. He'd never catch on to the dancing phrases of diplomats, the petty niceties of society. Maybe if Reagan were here, she'd know what to say. But the poor fellow was stuck with Ruan and his awkwardly straightforward honesty.
