Of all things in his long life, it seems evident that Everclear should be glad he has largely avoided certain touches of magic. His immortality has perhaps tempered his curiosity, disinclining him from seeking much more than he’s been given. He has seen wonders of all scales, has struggled against more than enough of them, and suffered at the hands of many.
In the end, he does not think he would wish such burdens upon any other. Not anymore, at least.
To be troubled by grim memories is a struggle all its own; to be plagued by true ghosts would be quite a gruesome curse indeed. He had worried, so long ago, over watching his loved ones fade while he lingered on, but at least for him death has always been a finite end. He would not know how to cope with the spirits of the lost returning to him.
Thankfully, he need not entertain the notion now. He is unaware of Narya’s powers and sees only a mare, velvet-colored and glimmering in the pale fading-winter’s light. Despite the bright flickers of her coat, though, something seems unfortunately muted about her. Her haunted eyes and mild greeting are enough to further provoke Everclear’s own minor melancholy. She seems a near perfect accent for the loneliness of this place and it stirs a disquieted sort of sadness in his chest.
“Hello,” he echoes her, lowering his head slightly to subconsciously match the bleak aura around them both. “I wasn’t sure there would be anyone else around,” he observes plainly. “Do you live here?” He awaits her answer, almost certain that the usual pleasantries of introduction will follow – he offers his name, if it is asked – but a more pertinent question then rises to his mind.
When the proper lull arises between them, he decides to speak it: “If you don’t mind me asking…why do you seem so sad?” His eyes do not portray any intent to offensively pry nor to further the weight of whatever burden might be upon her. Rather, he studies her with a wizened gentleness borne by one who has seen vast measures of sorrow in his time.
In the end, he does not think he would wish such burdens upon any other. Not anymore, at least.
To be troubled by grim memories is a struggle all its own; to be plagued by true ghosts would be quite a gruesome curse indeed. He had worried, so long ago, over watching his loved ones fade while he lingered on, but at least for him death has always been a finite end. He would not know how to cope with the spirits of the lost returning to him.
Thankfully, he need not entertain the notion now. He is unaware of Narya’s powers and sees only a mare, velvet-colored and glimmering in the pale fading-winter’s light. Despite the bright flickers of her coat, though, something seems unfortunately muted about her. Her haunted eyes and mild greeting are enough to further provoke Everclear’s own minor melancholy. She seems a near perfect accent for the loneliness of this place and it stirs a disquieted sort of sadness in his chest.
“Hello,” he echoes her, lowering his head slightly to subconsciously match the bleak aura around them both. “I wasn’t sure there would be anyone else around,” he observes plainly. “Do you live here?” He awaits her answer, almost certain that the usual pleasantries of introduction will follow – he offers his name, if it is asked – but a more pertinent question then rises to his mind.
When the proper lull arises between them, he decides to speak it: “If you don’t mind me asking…why do you seem so sad?” His eyes do not portray any intent to offensively pry nor to further the weight of whatever burden might be upon her. Rather, he studies her with a wizened gentleness borne by one who has seen vast measures of sorrow in his time.
E V E R C L E A R
@Narya