Something about the quest reminds Litotes of the burning of his home. The way his father ran into the fire but lost his hope: the cremello will not to do the same today. He thinks, as he stands shivering and alone on the shoreline, that he may be walking in the steps of his father. Running headlong into a freezing channel while feverous, no aid or hope in sight, is eerily similar to the way his father tried to save his mother - except, this time, there is hope (just hope he has forgotten). i don't want your pity, i just want somebody near me
Exhausted, forlorn, and (admittedly) depressed, Lie hangs his head to stare blankly at the ground. He cannot stop the shivering as it passes and passes over his body. How foolish he was, to take on this trek in such a state. Guarding the land of Hyaline as his sickness comes and goes is one thing - travelling miles upon miles in the cruel cold is entirely another.
Just as he thinks he may stop here, wait out the cold, or maybe die - a warm wind passes. Lie lifts his head, something resembling excitement passes over his face. The air seems to twist around his stomach, coddle and soothe him, whisper over and over again that it will be okay. His matted mane and tail drape and drip against his skin, but the wind persists in drying him. Though the spots his hair clings to continue to dampen, his body regains strength, and so his mind follows.
Lie straightens - warm, dry, and renewed.
Taking this moment of clarity to study his surroundings, the shifter notes the two paths ahead. One to the left, one to the right: both obviously meant for the participants to choose. He breathes in deep and closes his eyes to center himself. When he reopens them, there is snow falling. Lie turns his head sharply at Kagerus’ familiar call. He sees her staring at him (Solace at her side), but the storm assaults them with ice and snow (his vision blurs; he longs to travel with them).
Following his gut - that Kagerus and Solace will press forward and he can meet them halfway - the General of Hyaline walks precariously through the quickly building snow. The ice pelts him, cuts up his coat and instantly freezes the blood that ensues; the snow blinds him, pains his eyes and shortens his breathing. He has nothing other than an instinct and a hope that his leaders will do as they always have done: guide him.
Whatever it was - a thousand year old instinct or a stroke of luck - Litotes finds the side of Solace. He shouts her name, but knows his voice is lost to the storm, so he drops his head and tucks himself to her side. The snow is so thick and aggressive that he can hardly see Kagerus on the other side of Solace. All three of them push through the snow, bound by Hyaline and survival. When they come to a stop, Lie lifts his head to attempt to see what is ahead, then turns to find Kagerus when the storm is too powerful.
Through squinted eyes and pinned ears he can barely make out his leader’s question. He knew from the first time he saw the paths that right will be the way he goes; so he shouts, “Right!” as loud as he can then throws his head in that direction for good measure. Kagerus nods and moves to the left. Lie swallows his fear, gives Solace a friendly nudge as if to say good luck, and presses onward.
The snow makes their parting ever harder. Within one measly second, the General can no longer see the couple. He drops his head, slits his eyes, and trails his muzzle against the first layer of snow. Lie’s nose against the snow coupled with the terrain changing beneath his hooves keeps him on his path. He continues on like that: head down, ears pinned, trudging through the ever-deepening snow. The way it falls - it seems as if the storm is doing everything in its power to keep him from pressing forward: the wind pushes him back, the ice swirls and slices against his nape.
Lie stops, lifts his head to see what progress he may have made only to see someone that makes his blood run even colder than the surging storm: his brother.
The snow and ice whips in circles and lines, twirling and swaying to form the body of Pepsi (a ghost). The cremello is statuesque, frozen and solemn in the presence of his past. The two stare each other down - Litotes not once thinking that he is hallucinating, that the fever and storm combined are softening his psyche. He steps forward, one hoof after the other, and Pepsi dips his snowy head then turns and heads further up the path.
“Wait -” broken, croaking, sputtering . . .
He follows desperately.
guess i'm a coward, i just want to feel all right
@[Solace]
