i am the steel no enemy can shatter
As he had predicted, they come. It does not take long before a shadow falls upon the ground before him, followed quickly by a tri-colored mare. Regarding her in silence, he waits for her to speak. He has never been much of one for words and even less so now. Words can be so trivial, meaningless. Action speaks all. He will allow that words can be useful in their time and place, that communication is important. But so many spill words like a sieve spills water. There comes a time when the endeavor becomes pointless.
It does not take her long to speak, to tell him of how he reminds her of her son. He does not know her son and therefore cannot comment on any similarities or lack thereof. He does not even know that others had been subjected to the same torments as he had. To her second comment, he can relate. He has not even seen two summers, yet he feels ancient, worn. And very brightly colored.
Before she has finished speaking, the second mare approaches. And though she walks, she is no less gifted. His gaze shifts to her, glancing her over before landing on her feet. It is a curious thing, the way the grass seems to wither away from her. Something to remember, to stash away for consideration at a later date. She speaks too, after the first mare gives her name, a pithy reply to Straia’s comment. Inane small talk. Her lack of a boy-child affects him not at all. But then she gives her name and asks for his. This question, at least, has purpose. So he replies, I am Shannisoran.
And finally a pair approaches, a mother and child. His quiet gaze flickers over the two, inspecting them in a glance. The mare introduces the both of them, indicating the black child when she speaks her name. The mare herself is a riot of colors, much like Shan himself. Perhaps she had fought the same evils as he. But that is not what he is here for, not what he wishes to ask. He is here searching for a purpose, and so he tells them. I am looking for a home. A place to train. Can you offer that?
shannisoran