03-19-2024, 06:05 PM
OAKS
you look well suited
like you came to win
Oaks listens like an attentive child as Zain explains how he had mastered his previously unwieldy powers. Ears perked, coppery eyes bright, mouth shut – an able student. Unfortunately, the idea of ‘trial and error’ practice with his own powers is rather daunting. He already knows well enough that whatever magic runs in his blood is uncooperative, beyond his control. Too often has he actually tried to prevent the loss of life, tried to focus and wish it away, scrunched his eyes closed and delved into hearty prayers to no one in particular.
Then Zain mentions that word again – or, more correctly as Oaks now realizes, that name. “Carnage,” he repeats softly, curiously. “Who–” he begins to ask, but cuts himself short when the pale, glassy mare approaches them.
Their initial exchange is blunt, mere pleasantries. It does not appear that she is amused by Zain’s choice of address, and Oaks makes a subconscious note that perhaps this woman was not quite one to play coy with.
If he had known of her magic and how it was used, he might have wondered what she had found in his own heart. Was there any love to be discovered? Other than a mild fascination with a particular pink-and-green unicorn mare, could Margot have found something within him worth seizing upon? There has been very little worth loving in his life, other than perhaps an admiration for the lives that evade his own grim luck and which survive instead of fading away.
As it is, he is blissfully unaware that she has read anything in them. Her reaction, though, suggests that something unseen had just transpired and Oaks tilts his head just slightly in curiosity. He does not speak yet, wondering briefly what trick she had just performed.
Rather than ask, he listens to her introduction as he continues to study her in return. The reason for his gentle scrutiny is twofold: she is an intriguing creature in appearance alone and he wonders – does a body like hers fall victim to illness and death like so many others?
Then again, Beyza had not seemed affected by whatever curse he bears. Perhaps it had been broken?
Such feeble hope is embodied in his voice when he replies, deciding it might be rude not to offer his name since she has now given hers. “My name is Oaks,” he states. He wonders momentarily if he should answer her question and glances at Zain as he adds, “Zain offered to show me around this place. I had hoped maybe it could become my home too.”
He wonders though – what, if anything, had he to offer?
Then Zain mentions that word again – or, more correctly as Oaks now realizes, that name. “Carnage,” he repeats softly, curiously. “Who–” he begins to ask, but cuts himself short when the pale, glassy mare approaches them.
Their initial exchange is blunt, mere pleasantries. It does not appear that she is amused by Zain’s choice of address, and Oaks makes a subconscious note that perhaps this woman was not quite one to play coy with.
If he had known of her magic and how it was used, he might have wondered what she had found in his own heart. Was there any love to be discovered? Other than a mild fascination with a particular pink-and-green unicorn mare, could Margot have found something within him worth seizing upon? There has been very little worth loving in his life, other than perhaps an admiration for the lives that evade his own grim luck and which survive instead of fading away.
As it is, he is blissfully unaware that she has read anything in them. Her reaction, though, suggests that something unseen had just transpired and Oaks tilts his head just slightly in curiosity. He does not speak yet, wondering briefly what trick she had just performed.
Rather than ask, he listens to her introduction as he continues to study her in return. The reason for his gentle scrutiny is twofold: she is an intriguing creature in appearance alone and he wonders – does a body like hers fall victim to illness and death like so many others?
Then again, Beyza had not seemed affected by whatever curse he bears. Perhaps it had been broken?
Such feeble hope is embodied in his voice when he replies, deciding it might be rude not to offer his name since she has now given hers. “My name is Oaks,” he states. He wonders momentarily if he should answer her question and glances at Zain as he adds, “Zain offered to show me around this place. I had hoped maybe it could become my home too.”
He wonders though – what, if anything, had he to offer?
@
Zain @ margot