08-05-2018, 03:09 PM
Leilan
Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
She’d gone as fast as she came, and had come as fast as she left way back then - all of a sudden, without allowing him a word in.
Not this time. Not if he could help it.
He barely said goodbye to Roseen, only a promise to meet her there again later and make good on his proposition to visit the other kingdoms with her. He didn’t register if she said okay, had been distant - about as distant as the spotted Knabstub was at that point. No, he was not okay with this, and it’s about time that she understood that.
Briskly he stepped back and turned. The spotted mare no longer in sight, but her haunting scent still easy enough to track. She’s cantered out, so he set into a gallop, slightly faster, slightly adrenalin-fueled. Okay, more than slightly.
He had time to go over their meetings again and again. Nothing wrong with the first two - at the forest creek and at the Nerine-Ischian Tournament. Something definitely off with their third meeting, when he’d tried to get to know her better, be her friend and, from the one soft touch she ever gave him, perhaps something more. It could still haunt him, the way she’d reached out to brush his jawline, then retreat and give him nothing but an apologetic glance. Heck. He’d even asked her, almost begged her, not to leave him like that, but she did anyway.
Seemed a clear indication that she did not want to be around him after all.
Then this. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and, even though he knew that he himself had never gone further than the river, looking at the Nerinian border from a distance, she hadn’t seemingly set foot in the land halfway between their homes either. Or at least not that he knew of. After today, he couldn’t be sure if she had simply spotted or scented him earlier than he her and run the other way.
Her barging in on his meeting with Roseen (and Arthas, but that mand had only just barged in similar to that himself) had been the very last thing he’d ever expected. Short of maybe greeting him with a kiss - don’t go there - or you know, drop dead or something.
One would think that if someone avoided you, they would not come up and greet you like nothing ever happened.
Most of all, it had been too late. Had she done this maybe a week to a month after her departure, he might have been able to overlook her erratic behaviour. Talk it out, like normal grownups do. But she had let it fester too long. Let the vines she’d woven into the walls he’d spent so many years on building he wasn’t even aware they were there, become a poison, a mould that had spread from those walls into the heart itself, effortlessly.
Now there wasn’t any room left for love. Sure, there were flings instead of love. Was it love he had felt for her? He doesn’t even know - whatever it had been had been choked out of life a little too early to be sure.
Strokes to ease the pain, a gentle mare to soothe him now or then, just like talking to Roseen had been a distraction, a way to get out. He took it all, at every chance. Didn’t care much if he hurt the others in the process, although he didn’t think he did - most of all he didn’t think though, so who knows.
But walking up to him just like that, was like sticking salty fingers in a roughly stitched-up wound that wasn’t really healed - it hurt. And that hurt had, with the ignoring him, the normal, flat tone of both her greeting and her saying goodbye without so much as a look into his eyes... that hurt was turning him to stone maybe more than anything.
He’s not a diplomat. He’s a warrior. They fight things out and then it’s done.
Her scent trail leads to the forest, and the slightly sweaty stallion crushes through the overhanging leaves and bushes without much thought. Only after he almost busts his head into a tree he slows to a trot, still tracking her. He must be close now, so he stops and snorts, shakes his head to get his thoughts back to now.
Then his eyes refocus with a determination close to anger, ears flicking around to catch each sound. He needs to get it out of his head right now, or she will be his undoing. She already is, but maybe it will ease him to just let it out for once. Maybe he can move on after that. So maybe... if he’s close enough, she will hear. She can’t keep avoiding him forever. Maybe she’ll come out if he calls.
”BRECKIN! You don’t get to walk out on me this time!” Angry. Lost. Hurt. Most of all scared that she won’t show and that he will keep on chasing her for days to come until she gives in - but he will. He has no other options left.
Not this time. Not if he could help it.
He barely said goodbye to Roseen, only a promise to meet her there again later and make good on his proposition to visit the other kingdoms with her. He didn’t register if she said okay, had been distant - about as distant as the spotted Knabstub was at that point. No, he was not okay with this, and it’s about time that she understood that.
Briskly he stepped back and turned. The spotted mare no longer in sight, but her haunting scent still easy enough to track. She’s cantered out, so he set into a gallop, slightly faster, slightly adrenalin-fueled. Okay, more than slightly.
He had time to go over their meetings again and again. Nothing wrong with the first two - at the forest creek and at the Nerine-Ischian Tournament. Something definitely off with their third meeting, when he’d tried to get to know her better, be her friend and, from the one soft touch she ever gave him, perhaps something more. It could still haunt him, the way she’d reached out to brush his jawline, then retreat and give him nothing but an apologetic glance. Heck. He’d even asked her, almost begged her, not to leave him like that, but she did anyway.
Seemed a clear indication that she did not want to be around him after all.
Then this. He hadn’t seen her in over a year, and, even though he knew that he himself had never gone further than the river, looking at the Nerinian border from a distance, she hadn’t seemingly set foot in the land halfway between their homes either. Or at least not that he knew of. After today, he couldn’t be sure if she had simply spotted or scented him earlier than he her and run the other way.
Her barging in on his meeting with Roseen (and Arthas, but that mand had only just barged in similar to that himself) had been the very last thing he’d ever expected. Short of maybe greeting him with a kiss - don’t go there - or you know, drop dead or something.
One would think that if someone avoided you, they would not come up and greet you like nothing ever happened.
Most of all, it had been too late. Had she done this maybe a week to a month after her departure, he might have been able to overlook her erratic behaviour. Talk it out, like normal grownups do. But she had let it fester too long. Let the vines she’d woven into the walls he’d spent so many years on building he wasn’t even aware they were there, become a poison, a mould that had spread from those walls into the heart itself, effortlessly.
Now there wasn’t any room left for love. Sure, there were flings instead of love. Was it love he had felt for her? He doesn’t even know - whatever it had been had been choked out of life a little too early to be sure.
Strokes to ease the pain, a gentle mare to soothe him now or then, just like talking to Roseen had been a distraction, a way to get out. He took it all, at every chance. Didn’t care much if he hurt the others in the process, although he didn’t think he did - most of all he didn’t think though, so who knows.
But walking up to him just like that, was like sticking salty fingers in a roughly stitched-up wound that wasn’t really healed - it hurt. And that hurt had, with the ignoring him, the normal, flat tone of both her greeting and her saying goodbye without so much as a look into his eyes... that hurt was turning him to stone maybe more than anything.
He’s not a diplomat. He’s a warrior. They fight things out and then it’s done.
Her scent trail leads to the forest, and the slightly sweaty stallion crushes through the overhanging leaves and bushes without much thought. Only after he almost busts his head into a tree he slows to a trot, still tracking her. He must be close now, so he stops and snorts, shakes his head to get his thoughts back to now.
Then his eyes refocus with a determination close to anger, ears flicking around to catch each sound. He needs to get it out of his head right now, or she will be his undoing. She already is, but maybe it will ease him to just let it out for once. Maybe he can move on after that. So maybe... if he’s close enough, she will hear. She can’t keep avoiding him forever. Maybe she’ll come out if he calls.
”BRECKIN! You don’t get to walk out on me this time!” Angry. Lost. Hurt. Most of all scared that she won’t show and that he will keep on chasing her for days to come until she gives in - but he will. He has no other options left.
"dear crow, your voice is right enough;
but where are your wits?"
but where are your wits?"
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Breckin]
Wall of text! Surprised myself a little here.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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