06-17-2019, 12:06 AM
Aodhán
little fire
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
He is relatively slow to catch up with what just happened, and then with what must have happened - and all this a pretty long time ago, since the last season he saw had neither been summer nor spring.
There’s voices, in the background. They sound surprised, curious and slightly scared. Having been some form of mindless not that long ago, their emotions come with names slowly, then with understanding what they are, and only after that does his brain translate the voices into words.
Blinking at the mare who seems to address him, the young adult shows her a lazy grin. ”Thanks for waking me. Being a rock is…” He doesn’t know the word for slow, dumb, and ethereal all in one, and he shakes his head realizing she would not understand his description either way. ”Let’s just say being myself again is much better. I’m Aodhán, by the way. I shifted, I think.” He says it all casually - shifting might be the best word, easy enough to understand for most who are familiar with Beqanna’s magic. In any other place he would be seen as some kind of freak, but here his ability is just very uncommon.
The knabstrup hybrid looks from one to the other, sensing the air. ”Summer?” he concludes, tilting his head at the trees a moment. But not for long he thinks; autumn is near. The air is still hot but already seems to lose it’s summery touch after the heat of midday. ”Who are you? Do you live in Taiga? Do you know an Aten? Pappa used to say he ruled it, last time...” But what is last? Has it been several months or several years? He remembers the story of his disappeared grandsire, and does not fancy the idea of having outlived his family - if that is a proper word for temporarily being a rock.
A small smirk follows; it doesn’t really matter. ”Sorry for scaring you.” It came as an afterthought, only now realizing the emotions behind the earlier words. Shock and confusion still rule them, even if he finally has a brain again.
There’s voices, in the background. They sound surprised, curious and slightly scared. Having been some form of mindless not that long ago, their emotions come with names slowly, then with understanding what they are, and only after that does his brain translate the voices into words.
Blinking at the mare who seems to address him, the young adult shows her a lazy grin. ”Thanks for waking me. Being a rock is…” He doesn’t know the word for slow, dumb, and ethereal all in one, and he shakes his head realizing she would not understand his description either way. ”Let’s just say being myself again is much better. I’m Aodhán, by the way. I shifted, I think.” He says it all casually - shifting might be the best word, easy enough to understand for most who are familiar with Beqanna’s magic. In any other place he would be seen as some kind of freak, but here his ability is just very uncommon.
The knabstrup hybrid looks from one to the other, sensing the air. ”Summer?” he concludes, tilting his head at the trees a moment. But not for long he thinks; autumn is near. The air is still hot but already seems to lose it’s summery touch after the heat of midday. ”Who are you? Do you live in Taiga? Do you know an Aten? Pappa used to say he ruled it, last time...” But what is last? Has it been several months or several years? He remembers the story of his disappeared grandsire, and does not fancy the idea of having outlived his family - if that is a proper word for temporarily being a rock.
A small smirk follows; it doesn’t really matter. ”Sorry for scaring you.” It came as an afterthought, only now realizing the emotions behind the earlier words. Shock and confusion still rule them, even if he finally has a brain again.