thorrun;  Magic.
It hung in the singed air, reeking of burnt hair and grass. She could feel the ash of what was once life, now death, travel over her exposed flesh. It sent goosebumps with every tiny gust, threatening to turn her to a shivering child despite the summer heat. The heat of the fire, the heat of the summer - she panicked. Thorunn, forever level headed, forever a blank canvas, found the overwhelming scent of magic to be nauseating and toxic. She turned tail and hid.
No, she's not proud of what she did. What sort of vessel of the Valley was she? Who is put off my a little bit of magic?
(Never mind that the answer is the man she admires most - her father. She doesn't know this, much like she doesn't know anything about him - truly)
And yet - she is terrified. It takes days for the sensation of being on fire to leave her bones. It takes takes for her sleep to truly carry her to dream land. She stays in the dead center of the Valley as far from the flames as she could muster.
Damn magic. Damn flames. Damn, damn!
my shadow tilts its head at me, spirits in the dark are waiting. He doesn’t dislike magic, but in truth, he is probably not that much his father’s son. Except for the lack of diplomat skills. They share that trait, not that Rhonan would know this. He doesn’t even know that the orange ring in his eyes is a gift from his father. But of course, Rhonan never met Covet. The stallion was long dead before the twins were ever born, and honestly, Rhonan has never much cared.
Or so he says, though look at him, living in the Valley just like his dad. Go figure.
What he admits that he doesn’t like is the idea of swearing to the kingdom. He hasn’t decided if he’s willing to go that far, if he loves the Valley enough to wear a damn V on his head. Sorry, flashy just isn’t his style. Hell, he can’t even stand being gold and white, and he walks around with the shadows pulled around him completely, looking like a black horse with something just slightly off about his coat, though it’s hard to tell what. Rhonan is getting pretty good at creating out of the darkness.
So far, he’s simply refused to swear. He turns the shadows into armor and lets the wall burn some of the shadows away as he walks through the fire wall. Really, it’s not as impenetrable as they all think. Honestly, he could be armor-less and just get used to being a little singed. Maybe someday he’d stop being such a stubborn ass about it, but not today.
Today, he is actually inside the kingdom, wandering around. Noah’s ghost follows him, lurking in the corner of his eye until Rhonan spots that girl he met, when he hijacked the conversation and Rhynn to learn about his skill. Oops. Yea, Rhonan is pretty useless when it comes to social graces. He’s vaguely skilled enough in the social department though to think it might be nice of him to go say hi to the girl.
So he does. Sort of. You know, as good as Rhonan can manage in the polite small talk department. “Thorunn, right?” he says, stopping at least a polite distance away. He is reasonably good at not invading personal bubbles. rhonan.
thorrun; Thorunn has - gratefully - had enough time to come to her senses before another approaches her. She's unaware of the true intention behind the flame wall - she never got close enough to heart. There was no real justification she would accept, she's come to realize. Whoever put it up did so with the intention to create a divide, to call the Valley something it might not truly be. That's the problem with new leaders, she's come to understand, they paint promises for election and often veer down an entirely different path. She's young, but she's learning. Father only taught her how to fight - all this reasoning and diplomacy she'd hit the ground running.
She's in a far better state when the other approaches her, and she has to squint to remember who he is. He's vaguely familiar in the way most horses are that you've met at least once before, but she can't quite place him. He says her name and she's embarrassed she cannot remember his. It's only after a labored, awkward silence that she says, "Uh, yeah," her voice leaving its normal deadpan. She tries so hard to mimic her stoic father but she's forgetting the nuances at an alarming rate. Would he ever say "uh"? Had she ever heard him say it? Panic rises in her chest - she can't forget him.
"You were with that filly," she says after a sudden realization. Stupid girl.
It's then she notices the faint smell of burnt hair that sent her into a panic only a few days before and sees the singed bits of hair along his side. "Is that from the wall? Does it truly burn?" As always she's unable to hide her curiosity.
my shadow tilts its head at me, spirits in the dark are waiting. It’s probably a good thing that her social skills are about the same as Rhonan’s. She doesn’t seem to mind too terribly at his lack of polite greeting. Hello is a very hard word to grasp, sometimes. He could just get to the point, and typically, that is exactly what he does. Though he’s tried his hand at recruiting, and he’s almost not terrible at it. Almost. It was distinctly easier with Ana than with anyone else, but of course, conversing with other shadows has always been easier for him as well. It’s that strange, innate understanding that seems to have come with his gift.
“Yea,” he says, so full of words. He’s trying to figure out if he should introduce himself again, or if that would just be insulting, but then she switches topics. Thank goodness. He lets the shadows melt away from him, rather pleased that his black coat looked real enough to look like his actual coat. “I cheat,” he admits, as the shadows fall away to reveal his unscathed gold and white coat.
But he hates being gold and white. It makes him feel like a pretty pretty princess, and so he gathers the shadows back onto him like his second skin, turning himself plain and boring black again. It suits him far more.
In truth, walking through the wall didn’t hurt him at all. He’s aware of pain as the shadows are singed, but it’s like a memory of it. He knows what it would feel like, but doesn’t actually feel it. “I suppose if I had bad intentions, it might be more than a slight burn. But I don’t, so…” He trails off, not really sure where he was going with that. He just doesn’t have intentions at all. Her lingers in the Valley, helped some, just refused to swear to a kingdom. Though maybe with Demian gone, the wall would go too. He sort of hoped so. He hid behind shadows, not fire.
rhonan.
eee, sorry for the wait. totally didn't see your reply.
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