08-18-2015, 02:22 AM
| a long way from from a firework daze but I still like to burn, burn, burn One day, perhaps Dempsey’s wandering would actually keep him from the land of his birth; perhaps, he would not find himself drawn back like water circling the drain—constantly trying to avoid the trap of it without success. But today was obviously not that day, or night, as it were. Standing on the edge of the meadow, he scowled down at it, hesitant to take that step back into what he had long considered the cesspool of Beqanna—a group in which he had cheerily added himself to long ago. After all, Dempsey’s ambition had always been rather low, and his only true accomplishment had been a herd where he had lived rather contentedly with a color-changing, temperamental Amazon Queen. His life's high point. Still, even the buckskin stallion could only trace the same patterns so many times before her began to grow bored. He was easygoing and, admittedly, lazy, but his mind was sharp and his tolerance would wear thin long before the residents of the meadow tripped onto a conversation of interest. (Of course, the silver mare he had encountered years before had been intriguing. Dangerous, but intriguing.) Sighing, Dempsey resigned himself back into the ranks of meadow dwellers and began to pick his way down into the crowd that was beginning to disperse. Lazily, he flicked through their thoughts as they passed him, his face neutral as he expertly danced through their memories and concerns. When he was younger, he had been brutish with his abilities—barging into other’s most private corners of their mind without much concern for being respectful. That is not to say that he has stopped his habit of casually poaching thoughts from his neighbors—he was just more skillful at doing it under the radar. Often, his companions could not even tell that he was thumbing through their mind like a dog-eared book. Unfortunately, tonight the meadow was full of a…rather dull, unimaginative lot. He yawned, wishing that he could somehow will them into being more interesting, more intelligent, and more worthy of his time. That is until he runs across a mind that was screaming in agony. Pausing mid-step, he angled his rather handsome head toward the source of it, eyes landing on the slender mare. Curious at having found something shiny in the pile of unremarkable, he altered his path toward her. Coming up along her side, he paused, not bothering to introduce himself. “You should be careful looking so sad here,” his voice is as smooth as whiskey and bordered with years of amusement. “You have no idea the sick minds who would be attracted to a beautiful mare with broken eyes in a place like this.” He chuckled under his breath, the tone kinder than he often allowed to strangers. “Not me of course,” finally he caught her gaze and he winked, although he knew that it would be lost on her. “I am completely healthy and in no way attracted to the way the light reflects off your frown.” Hoping to distract her with his banal rambling, he quickly navigated the thorny, bloody mess of her thoughts, and he frowned with more genuine emotion. “Poor lamb,” he murmured before perking up. “Oh, I am Dempsey.” He considered her for a second before settling into a more comfortable position. “It is nice to meet you, Oksana. One day, you will say the same about me.” ashley and wren’s mind-reading nomad of a son I'm always (I'm always) in the haze of a car crash |