Assailant
It has been a while since he has truly left the Dale. Sure, he’s let himself wander every day, but he still hasn’t mustered the mental or physical strength to stray too far from her borders, still tethered by the desperate need to return to the lake’s edge every night. He can’t say that his hope is fading, but part of him knows that the situation looks bleaker with each rising of the sun.
So, with a sigh, he sets out in search of something once again. The skies are remarkably clear today, so he opts to spread his large dark wings and begin drifting south. At first, he has no destination in mind, letting the sharp yet gentle breezes guide him over the varied lands. He casts a sidelong glance at the Mountain as he passes, mild twinges pulling at random nerves as he once again thinks of his time there, of the changes that it had initiated. He drops some of the height he has gathered during his flight as he shakes his wings in mid-air, as though he could physically cast off his troubles by doing so.
This descent brings him over the Meadow’s border and as he quickly scans the mostly empty space, he decides this is as good a place as any to return to the ground. He skirts a few barren trees with ease, finally comfortable in navigating with the wings he had been gifted in the more recent past. There is no stealth in his movements today as the snow snaps and crunches beneath his feet, as he expels a heavy breath on impact, as his feathers rustle loudly as he tucks his wings to his sides.
Under normal circumstances, he would take the time to drink in his surroundings, to make himself aware of people in the vicinity. Today, he doesn’t care as much. So, he begins tramping through the snow aimlessly. He is lucky that the Meadow is scarcely populated today, for he might have run into any number of bodies as he wanders blindly, nearly wholly consumed by the thoughts rattling around his brain.
But one cannot be lucky forever and he comes uncomfortably close to bulldozing right over the other man. He pulls up short just in time to avoid the collision and a soft grunt of surprise cuts through the air. “Sorry about that, my mind seems to be elsewhere today.” He takes a moment to study the silver buckskin, curiosity creeping over him despite the fact that he’s not particularly interested in socializing today. Yet something compels him to stay, to learn more of this man that carries an essence about him, this man that somehow reminds him of days long since buried.
“Assailant.” He dips his head slightly as he speaks, indicating that this is his own name. “Who might you be?”
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
--Martin Buber
@cezanne @
Everclear