05-21-2020, 10:00 AM
Hey all you cool cats and kittens
When Neverwhere finally plants her hooves in the thin, rocky, soil of Nerine again, dawn is cresting over the eastern edge of the grey northern sea, throwing blue light across the kingdom. In this darkness, the colt beside her is nearly invisible – and never mind that little attribute – a dark smudge at her shadowy side. Even the flickering gold of his dapples is dim and dull, still hidden under layers of soft curls. His face is a reasonable mimic of her own, small ears pinned and a scowl on his face, but the child only copies his dam in jest and cannot hold the expression long before losing it to look in wonder around him.
It’s easy to find wonder in everything around you when it’s always the first time you’ve seen something, the first time you see the red-rock arches of Loess, the first time you see the impossibly high kings of the redwood forest, the first time you see that great expanse of the roiling sea and Nerine’s crags, as formidable and frowning as your mother’s face. The boy’s blue-green eyes widen and sparkle, catching the first rays of sunlight and he stops, the small, barely-concealed bones of his wings lifted oh-so-slightly from his sides as though ready for flight.
Neverwhere slows for a moment and turns to look back at him where he’s stopped, but says nothing, only waits. He is young and has slowed her return even further with the need to stop and let him rest, but the colt is built for travel, long-legged and deep-chested, and he has kept up with the brisk pace she has set without complaint, and for that she is thankful.
At least as much as she expects is possible, given the circumstances.
Returning home does not give her a sense of peace or calm, however, nor does she allow the child to linger very long in his survey of the southern edge of Nerine. She calls gruffly to him – her voice by design and by habit incapable of finding a tone that might be called soft or sweet – and continues forward for the kingdom’s heart, wondering softly how it is one goes about summoning its Champion.
@[Brennen]. She wonder's if she has to actually shout his name, or if just wanting him to appear is enough to trigger whatever magic tripwire he has strung up across the land. Their meetings have never been cordial, and she thinks he may not even wish to respond - or perhaps he will respond, but refuse her request. The white-faced mare shakes her head with a heavy exhalation. That will be her fault - much of what has happened has been her fault, to some extent - but that's a bridge she will wait to cross until it is necessary to do so.
That bitch, Neverwhere
