New Beqanna, Old Beqanna.
New Assailant, Old Assailant.
He still can’t help but continue to draw lines of demarcation between the old and the new, especially when the new is always finding a way to force him to face it. In the old Beqanna, the old Assailant could have had his choice of women (even though he had always kept his herd fairly small), whether they wanted him or not. In the new Beqanna, the new Assailant still enjoys the pretty faces, but doesn’t feel the same carnal compulsions dictating his decisions. The old Assailant could have harvested a flower or a berry from one of old Beqanna’s shrubs.
Instead, an unfamiliar male voice disrupts the relative quiet and the new Assailant shies away from the white and gold stallion that now stands where the blossom that he’d been reaching for had just been. A groan of frustration, of longing for the simpler days escapes him as he works to slow the beats sending a flood of adrenaline churning through his system.
Thank god for his immortality. Without it, his ancient heart could never survive the constant twists and turns this new Beqanna keeps carving into his path. The fanciful colors and seemingly impossible wings, such as those possessed by his traveling companion, were one thing. A boy that can turn into plants? Wild.
Though stunned as he is, he cannot help but admire the sarcasm behind Adriana’s little quip. He tears his gaze from the stranger to look at her and feels a faint smile finding its way to his lips. “Duly noted.” He knows he should not be surprised by the composure she possesses in the face of this sorcery, but he is. Of course, this was likely a garden-variety occurrence for her.
Maybe someday he’ll reacquaint himself with such evenness, hopefully someday soon. He is more than a little tired of being so disoriented all the time.
For now, he steps closer to Adriana. It is a gesture that could be interpreted several ways and even he is unsure if it is the inherent protectiveness bred by his old life, or if the comfort of her familiarity that presses him to her again. Or both. Whatever it is, he is acutely aware of and grateful for the galvanizing undercurrent of her frosted touch.
His gaze returns to the stranger, taking in the bewildered look on Aodhán’s face that surely mirrors the one Assailant had just been (and might still be) wearing. He is glad for the knowledge of the ever-changing status of Beqanna’s lands she holds, for he could not give Aodhán the answers that he seeks.
The sound of his name on her tongue pulls his attention to her again, but he does not catch her eye before it moves away from him. It doesn’t matter. He had felt her eyes on him just now and many times throughout their traveling. His own had found her just as often, if not more so, as thoughts like her own had peppered his mind. Those thoughts come creeping back now, but he gently pushes them to the side as he looks to Aodhán again and puts on a charming smile.
“Sorry to disturb you.. I haven’t quite gotten used to things not being what they appear to be.”
His head tilts inquisitively as he continues, “We are heading into..” He pauses, just long enough to hint at his uncertainty in the name of the land before them. “..the Dale, would you care to join us?”
@Adriana @Aodhan