04-03-2023, 11:24 PM
Abrus had not meant to come here, but then so much of his life has been built around the unplanned that this was perhaps inevitable. Ideas and endeavours that inevitably go awry, best intentions becoming twisted. All he had intended was a little bit of space and time, and he had accidentally been granted plenty of each. He arrives in Beqanna with a thunderous crash, the splintering of an old cedar deep within the Forest providing the life and power needed to pull him through the portal he had created. It splits in half, almost perfectly, and each massive section collides with other trees and shrubs before landing so heavily on the ground that it trembles far off in each direction.
And then silence follows.
In the centre of where the tree had stood is now a mud splattered stallion. A raven works to detangle itself from his mane and the quiet indignant squawks that punctuate the process are the only thing that adds sound while the other animals nearby wait to see if the danger has passed. Abrus can sense their fear, and the weariness of that fear - as if too many cataclysmic events have happened to these creatures and their past generations.
He had not intended to bring chaos to their day but he is far too weary to try to send out more power to sooth them. They will in their own time get back to skittering about in their usual late-afternoon routines, filling nearly every inch of this forest with life and movement.
That has not quite happened yet when he takes a step forward, out of the small crater he had formed in the root ball of the cedar tree. What happens next feels unexpected, but if he had paid attention to just how drained he was it absolutely made sense. He stumbles and falls, crashing hard on his knees. The needles that compose the leaf litter here sting where they make contact with torn flesh and he groans in annoyance as he unsteadily gets back to his feet. His companion, the raven, flew free but chatters in annoyance nonetheless as she lands on one of the branches of the fallen tree. Abrus is far more concerned with his own annoyance over hers so he ignores her for now, choosing to spend his focus on just staying upright for a while before attempting to move.
And then silence follows.
In the centre of where the tree had stood is now a mud splattered stallion. A raven works to detangle itself from his mane and the quiet indignant squawks that punctuate the process are the only thing that adds sound while the other animals nearby wait to see if the danger has passed. Abrus can sense their fear, and the weariness of that fear - as if too many cataclysmic events have happened to these creatures and their past generations.
He had not intended to bring chaos to their day but he is far too weary to try to send out more power to sooth them. They will in their own time get back to skittering about in their usual late-afternoon routines, filling nearly every inch of this forest with life and movement.
That has not quite happened yet when he takes a step forward, out of the small crater he had formed in the root ball of the cedar tree. What happens next feels unexpected, but if he had paid attention to just how drained he was it absolutely made sense. He stumbles and falls, crashing hard on his knees. The needles that compose the leaf litter here sting where they make contact with torn flesh and he groans in annoyance as he unsteadily gets back to his feet. His companion, the raven, flew free but chatters in annoyance nonetheless as she lands on one of the branches of the fallen tree. Abrus is far more concerned with his own annoyance over hers so he ignores her for now, choosing to spend his focus on just staying upright for a while before attempting to move.