Post by The Summoner on Jul 22, 2011 9:37:08 GMT -10
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0px,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i62.photobucket.com/albums/h99/houndoomXdelta/de.png); width: 500px; -moz-border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border-radius: 20px 20px 20px 20px; border: 1px dashed #000000] bLEW dOWN tHE dOORS tO lET mE iN sHATTERED wINDOWS aND tHE sOUNDS oF dRUMS pEOPLE cOULDN’T bELIEVE wHAT i’D bECOME  ♙words : 1029; ♙tags: Rezi; be my mirror, my sword and shield Riding had always been therapeutic to Summoner, a notion that had been ingrained into his mind as a young wriggler by the calming gait of his lusus so far back when. Something perhaps about being one with his steed, or perhaps it was the breakneck speed that he himself could not achieve alone on foot, perhaps it was something else entirely, he wasn’t sure. Either way, he felt most at ease when upon hoofbeastback, as if nothing in the world could touch him. It probably wasn’t far from the truth, either, what with his training, but he tended to think less of those things in current times. After all, an impending apocalypse combined with a large-scale revolt tended to be rather serious distractions at times. Sometimes he missed his previous life; it had been so simple. Times like this, with the wind whipping past his face, the steady thud of hooves upon wet ground, he could close his eyes and almost remember back to before the entire world up turned inside out. Perhaps in some ways he missed his former life, certainly it had been much easier to just be a member of a collective (a leader even), just another name crossed off from the royal culling list. There had been no reason to think treasonous thoughts, for the ideas hadn’t ever occurred to him in a serious manner, life had merely been about avoiding the culling fork and staying at the top of his unit, that was all. But... He shook his head slowly, eyes opening to take in the surrounding forest. No, it was better this way, he should be thankful that his moirail had shown him that. No more living in fear of the highbloods, no more bending down to their preconceived notions of class, no more taking orders from a corrupt system of government that needed to be overthrown. He was a free troll now, that was what mattered. Well, that and finding his way to the hive he had been so graciously invited to by his auspictice. Frankly, he had no discernable idea, rather than ‘down that way, deeper into the forest’. Ah well, no matter, he would find some wildbeast around and ask it, because a troll living in such solitude would most certainly not be difficult for such a creature to notice. There had been a path at one point, but it was getting overgrown and difficult to follow, and so with great reluctance he dismounted, sending his hoofbeast back with a mental nudge and a pat to the nose. It had been fun to reminisce, but there was no need to put her though anything unnecessarily dangerous. She gave a soft nicker in return, but heeded his wish and soon she was nothing more than a small, retreating speck on the horizon. She was a good steed, brought up from a good stud and he had personally hand raised her from her youngest sweeps, she would be fine going back alone. With a small mental snap he severed their connection, letting her go about her way as he himself looked towards the ever increasing density of the brush before him. It would have been easy to fly, to just soar up through the vines and branches and scout from above, but there was a certain sense of accomplishment that always came with doing things without the aid of his wings. They were still fairly new to him, less than two sweeps pupated, and though he had gotten used to their use in everyday tasks, he still found that sometimes he rather preferred to go about life the way it had been before their arrival. Terribly inconvenient for mulling through underbrush as well, he noted with displeasure as he pushed through yet another tangle of shrubs. He was getting nowhere quickly, not for lack of trying, but for the simple fact that he still had little idea of where he was going. That was soon remedied, however, as he looked into the mind of a passing featherbeast, placing a simple inquiry that was soon answered in jumbled pictures and a rather vague description of directions. Left, okay, he would go left. Up? How was ‘up’ even feasible? No wait, down, down and left again, alright. It took time and patience to try to unravel all of the different answers, but eventually things managed to sort themselves out and he began making progress. There was an unmistakable scent in the air, of old fire and long-since passed smoke, and he thanked the featherbeast, relinquishing his bond with it in the next instant. He stopped for a moment to take in his surroundings, frowning slightly at the deep scores of charred fauna that were becoming more and more common. An errant flash of burned, mangled eyes staring at him, and he winced, understanding dawning upon him. That was...unfortunate, in the lightest of terms, and there was a tug of platonic pity at the strings of his blood pusher. As he pushed through a rather overgrown mess of grasses, a hive was suddenly revealed, singed, charred, but unmistakably still in use. It really was as isolated as he had been led to believe; he had thought the younger troll had just been exaggerating. Ah well....wait, was the lusus around? There was a certain edge of fear that ran through his veins at the though of having to face the gigantic thing again, especially after the last meeting with it. But no, he couldn’t feel any sort of consciousness that would be advanced enough to fit its mould, so that was a relief. Stepping forwards over some of the rubble, he made his way to the hive, one clawed hand rapping lightly upon the entranceway. The better question was, would he be expected at all, or was all of this just another one of the pranks that the other liked to play so very often. Certainly luring him all the way into the heart of the forest would have been a rather unorthidox (not to mention cruel) trick, but he supposed that it was all still a possibility. my missionaries in a foreign field ♙notes: Have I mentioned I'm terrible with opening posts?; credit to gREY of OTE |
