04-07-2016, 01:54 PM
He doesn’t know who he expects it to be when he turns around, but he certainly doesn’t think it will be a stranger. Not when he’s been so vigilant. Not when he’s searched every nook and cranny for signs of new life, new members to fill the kingdom that is so prone to sinking into silence. How can he have missed a crossing over their borders?
But he has.
“Oh,” he exhales his surprise when he finds the black and white face peering back at him. And while he might have missed her entrance, Ramiel is still glad she is here. She looks nothing like their enemy should, nothing like the dark, soulless creatures he imagines the Chamber churns out on the regular (but of course that is exactly who they would send in, a harmless, silent maiden who would arouse no suspicions). Fortunately for Astara, the grey stallion is not an inherently suspicious creature. Wary, sure (he has to be, his people’s lives depend on it), but he prefers to see the good in everyone. He is the son of an angel, after all.
“Me neither,” he replies, looking past the mare to the trail stretching behind her. It is not a well-worn path. The multitude of deer are the only animals that usually frequent the barely-marked trail, but he thought it was important to explore it all – scout out as many entry points and overlooks in the kingdom as possible. His metallic gaze shifts back to the woman’s, a light smile playing on his face. Company is always welcome, even if he is unsure as to its origins.
She is stiff and hesitant, though, and it arouses a thread of alarm in his gut. Why else would a stranger corner a foreign king during times of war? He tries to swallow his doubts, but the question presses on his mind. Now is not the time to let such questions linger unanswered. “Are you new here or just passing through? It’s always wonderful to see new faces around, if it is your intent.” Hopefully, he thinks to himself, not letting himself consider the alternative. “I’m Ramiel, how about you?”
But he has.
“Oh,” he exhales his surprise when he finds the black and white face peering back at him. And while he might have missed her entrance, Ramiel is still glad she is here. She looks nothing like their enemy should, nothing like the dark, soulless creatures he imagines the Chamber churns out on the regular (but of course that is exactly who they would send in, a harmless, silent maiden who would arouse no suspicions). Fortunately for Astara, the grey stallion is not an inherently suspicious creature. Wary, sure (he has to be, his people’s lives depend on it), but he prefers to see the good in everyone. He is the son of an angel, after all.
“Me neither,” he replies, looking past the mare to the trail stretching behind her. It is not a well-worn path. The multitude of deer are the only animals that usually frequent the barely-marked trail, but he thought it was important to explore it all – scout out as many entry points and overlooks in the kingdom as possible. His metallic gaze shifts back to the woman’s, a light smile playing on his face. Company is always welcome, even if he is unsure as to its origins.
She is stiff and hesitant, though, and it arouses a thread of alarm in his gut. Why else would a stranger corner a foreign king during times of war? He tries to swallow his doubts, but the question presses on his mind. Now is not the time to let such questions linger unanswered. “Are you new here or just passing through? It’s always wonderful to see new faces around, if it is your intent.” Hopefully, he thinks to himself, not letting himself consider the alternative. “I’m Ramiel, how about you?”
R A M I E L
this is a man pulling at his iron chains