Ruhr
03-17-2024, 08:27 PM
Last night the moon remained behind the clouds, casting no reflection in the dark waters Ruhr stood beside. He had stayed awake throughout the night regardless, hopeful even for the briefest of visions, but dawn had come, and with it he had felt the ether of his divination begin to slip away. His power was strongest at night, he has learned, and when the moon is at its fullest.
Every vision he has seen since his arrival in this world has shown him some variant of the same future, and so he continues to remain in the wide meadow, patient and watchful.
The clouds had left with the dawn, leaving way for a brilliantly blue sky. Ruhr looks up at it now with his matching Stratosian eyes, spotting the half-moon far to the east. He watches it, just for a moment, then steps out into the sun from the protection of his woodsy copse. The stiff limp in his right foreleg does not deter him from his movement toward the river, the old injury has been with him most of his life, but he does frown at the feel of the brisk spring wind.
He glances up at the sky once more, and it is just in time to see a winged equine land just over the next hill. The pegasus does not make it far before they disappear, and if Ruhr had not been watching he’d have missed the fall entirely.
Concerned, he canters forward, his uneven gait the only sign of the pain the quick speed causes his bad leg. He’ll regret it later, but he pushes that to the back of his mind as he approaches the other horse. Could she be a Stratosian, he wonders!? He’d thought them all but gone. The coppery scent of blood and the red dripping from her nose catch his attention, and he glances up at the sky, thinking of the endless expanse of sea in the direction from which she’d flown.
Where had she come from?
Her eyes remain closed, and he is no healer. Should he wake her? The Meadow is not a dangerous place, but would it be right to leave her here alone? It would be easier if he could just ask her, Ruhr decides, and glances at the half-moon before back at the pale mare.
“You okay? I saw you land and it…looked a little rough.” The last is said hesitantly, as Ruhr lowers his feathered head to look a little more closely. Not a Strataosian, he thinks, not nearly enough feathers. Drawing back, he cocks his head and waits.
Every vision he has seen since his arrival in this world has shown him some variant of the same future, and so he continues to remain in the wide meadow, patient and watchful.
The clouds had left with the dawn, leaving way for a brilliantly blue sky. Ruhr looks up at it now with his matching Stratosian eyes, spotting the half-moon far to the east. He watches it, just for a moment, then steps out into the sun from the protection of his woodsy copse. The stiff limp in his right foreleg does not deter him from his movement toward the river, the old injury has been with him most of his life, but he does frown at the feel of the brisk spring wind.
He glances up at the sky once more, and it is just in time to see a winged equine land just over the next hill. The pegasus does not make it far before they disappear, and if Ruhr had not been watching he’d have missed the fall entirely.
Concerned, he canters forward, his uneven gait the only sign of the pain the quick speed causes his bad leg. He’ll regret it later, but he pushes that to the back of his mind as he approaches the other horse. Could she be a Stratosian, he wonders!? He’d thought them all but gone. The coppery scent of blood and the red dripping from her nose catch his attention, and he glances up at the sky, thinking of the endless expanse of sea in the direction from which she’d flown.
Where had she come from?
Her eyes remain closed, and he is no healer. Should he wake her? The Meadow is not a dangerous place, but would it be right to leave her here alone? It would be easier if he could just ask her, Ruhr decides, and glances at the half-moon before back at the pale mare.
“You okay? I saw you land and it…looked a little rough.” The last is said hesitantly, as Ruhr lowers his feathered head to look a little more closely. Not a Strataosian, he thinks, not nearly enough feathers. Drawing back, he cocks his head and waits.