Sand shifts beneath his hooves as he makes his way off the island, and then the ground falls away beneath his hooves as he picks up a comfortable lope and heads for Nerine, settling in for a long run along the river and through Hyaline. It would have been easier, perhaps, for Brennen to send a winged messenger, but at this moment Brennen prefers sublety over expediency, and Cagney is the subtler option. After all, nobody but his deceased lover, his erstwhile children, and his father know what he can do; so, as he slips between the threads of time, using it to speed up his own journey, he is as good as invisible. Even if someone sees him one minute, he’ll be gone without a trace before they can even focus on him.
(Even all these years later, he still guards his secret fiercely. With Brennen ascending to a higher rank, will he be able to do that?)
About noon, he crosses from the silt and rock shores of the river to firmer ground in Hyaline, and finally late afternoon the footing gives way to sand again, and he slows to a walk and looks around, releasing time around himself and heaving a sigh for his own weariness before he begins to look for the women Brennen had described to him – Hestia and Scorch. When he spots a likely candidate, he approaches, low voice tentatively offered to confirm their identity. Once he has assurance he’s found one of his targets, he relaxes a hair.
(As much as he’s ever relaxed – since her.)
He’s shorter than Brennen, lacks his sire’s famous wings; his bay is roaned and he’s considerably stockier though his dished face still reflects their shared heritage. But what Cagney does share with Brennen is the way he goes totally still, each movement measured and intentional. He doesn’t have the same air of easy confidence, but he doesn’t do anything that could be remotely called ‘fidgeting’, or even careless movement. “My fath- er, sorry, Brennen sent me to tell you he’s going to make his move very soon.” Internally, he curses himself for forgetting he shouldn’t be that informal anymore, but externally he simply offers a quiet smile.
ooc; figured I'd throw this here for posterity in case someone wants to show up in Ischia when things go down
