Had Kildare known about the magic and its intensity in this place, he probably would have kept moving.
The midnight boy had nowhere to be, not really. There was no place that he could lay claim to as home and when he had turned his emerald gaze pasts the mountains, Kildare had decided to see all of it. There was a whole, wild world out there full of stories and personalities and things to learn. His Glam had spoken of the other worlds often enough. She had told her grandchildren of the few lands that she had encountered before finally settling down in Beyond and Kildare who was coming at the age when colts leave home and try to make names for themselves, decided that he should like to see what else the world had to offer before he had to settle down. There was Tarian always bemoaning honor and duty, Liam always encouraging that life was just one, long party and between his two elder brothers, Kildare decided he should like to decide for himself if he wanted to tackle the sacrifice that came with his bloodline or if he simply wanted what Liam did, the freedom to choose.
It hadn't meant to be a forever thing. He had intended, perhaps still intends, to go back home someday. For Kildare, this is more an experiment than an adventure. He's enjoyed the company so far, clever Astana has kept him entertained enough that the journey here has been more pleasant than arduous. Astana was more like a butterfly than a horse, he had decided, the way she flew from place to place. The moment that they had encountered Beqanna, the little girl had taken off. And Kildare, a touch too proud to play babysitter, had let her go. Now though, the ebony colt feels guilty and there is a part of him that thinks that perhaps he should find her. Just to make sure that she is alright.
The problem with wanting to check up on one like Astana is finding out where a butterfly would go.
He has tried the Meadow with no luck and so he has continued to move on, pushing through the swaying grasses until lessen. He follows the edge of the river, continuing to follow it where Kildare assumes will be a beach and perhaps even the sea. The thought of seeing the ocean almost makes him want to abandon the search for Astana. After, he thinks. After he has found her flitting from place to place, when he knows that whatever she is doing is fine, he will go find the untamed ocean and marvel at its waves. Perhaps it is the wind that blows off it, that comes from other faraway places, that calls to him. It could possibly be the closest he could come to being able to weave it again, to make it beckon and bend under his command.
The summer sun is warm on his back and he thinks that a trip to find the ocean is exactly what he needs after this errand.
His tail flicks at the few insects that insist on bothering him and his ears pin, irritated that Astana couldn't find a place that isn't crawling with bloodsuckers. A snort comes from deep within Kildare and his green eyes sweep the landscape before him. The amount of coverage offered by the few trees here are minimal and he knows the minute he goes into the shade, the winged creatures will descend on him in a mass exodus. They would simply follow him from place to place, intent in their determination to eat their daily fill. He shudders and keeps walking. But then his expression changes, confusion taking control of his facial features. There is something small ahead, small enough to be a squirrel or some other tiny creature. A dead one, he assumes.
But the coloring on what he thinks is a squirrel is unusual and as he gets closer, he can see the shape is all wrong. His confusion only grows as he the wrong shape changes into one he knows, one that is exactly like himself. Another horse but she is so small. Exhaustion comes off her in droves as she lays there. He lowers his head, unsure exactly of what he should be doing (what does one do with such a small horse?). "Hey," comes the deepening tenors of Kildare. He doesn't touch her because if he is entirely honest with himself, her size is something that freaks him out. "Tiny girl," he says, hoping to wake her up, a part of him wishing that she had been a squirrel. "Wake up."
@[Morgayne]
The midnight boy had nowhere to be, not really. There was no place that he could lay claim to as home and when he had turned his emerald gaze pasts the mountains, Kildare had decided to see all of it. There was a whole, wild world out there full of stories and personalities and things to learn. His Glam had spoken of the other worlds often enough. She had told her grandchildren of the few lands that she had encountered before finally settling down in Beyond and Kildare who was coming at the age when colts leave home and try to make names for themselves, decided that he should like to see what else the world had to offer before he had to settle down. There was Tarian always bemoaning honor and duty, Liam always encouraging that life was just one, long party and between his two elder brothers, Kildare decided he should like to decide for himself if he wanted to tackle the sacrifice that came with his bloodline or if he simply wanted what Liam did, the freedom to choose.
It hadn't meant to be a forever thing. He had intended, perhaps still intends, to go back home someday. For Kildare, this is more an experiment than an adventure. He's enjoyed the company so far, clever Astana has kept him entertained enough that the journey here has been more pleasant than arduous. Astana was more like a butterfly than a horse, he had decided, the way she flew from place to place. The moment that they had encountered Beqanna, the little girl had taken off. And Kildare, a touch too proud to play babysitter, had let her go. Now though, the ebony colt feels guilty and there is a part of him that thinks that perhaps he should find her. Just to make sure that she is alright.
The problem with wanting to check up on one like Astana is finding out where a butterfly would go.
He has tried the Meadow with no luck and so he has continued to move on, pushing through the swaying grasses until lessen. He follows the edge of the river, continuing to follow it where Kildare assumes will be a beach and perhaps even the sea. The thought of seeing the ocean almost makes him want to abandon the search for Astana. After, he thinks. After he has found her flitting from place to place, when he knows that whatever she is doing is fine, he will go find the untamed ocean and marvel at its waves. Perhaps it is the wind that blows off it, that comes from other faraway places, that calls to him. It could possibly be the closest he could come to being able to weave it again, to make it beckon and bend under his command.
The summer sun is warm on his back and he thinks that a trip to find the ocean is exactly what he needs after this errand.
His tail flicks at the few insects that insist on bothering him and his ears pin, irritated that Astana couldn't find a place that isn't crawling with bloodsuckers. A snort comes from deep within Kildare and his green eyes sweep the landscape before him. The amount of coverage offered by the few trees here are minimal and he knows the minute he goes into the shade, the winged creatures will descend on him in a mass exodus. They would simply follow him from place to place, intent in their determination to eat their daily fill. He shudders and keeps walking. But then his expression changes, confusion taking control of his facial features. There is something small ahead, small enough to be a squirrel or some other tiny creature. A dead one, he assumes.
But the coloring on what he thinks is a squirrel is unusual and as he gets closer, he can see the shape is all wrong. His confusion only grows as he the wrong shape changes into one he knows, one that is exactly like himself. Another horse but she is so small. Exhaustion comes off her in droves as she lays there. He lowers his head, unsure exactly of what he should be doing (what does one do with such a small horse?). "Hey," comes the deepening tenors of Kildare. He doesn't touch her because if he is entirely honest with himself, her size is something that freaks him out. "Tiny girl," he says, hoping to wake her up, a part of him wishing that she had been a squirrel. "Wake up."
@[Morgayne]