02-06-2022, 07:04 PM
T U M U L T
He had heard rumors that after the earthquake—triggered by the way they had drilled into the ground at the command of a god that had been nameless to him before that day—another kingdom had revealed itself from beneath the sea, while simultaneously flooding an existing one. Unease stirs in his chest at the thought of this; that a single action can have such a profound ripple effect. He had not been born here, and while the other residents seem to brush it off as something that just ‘happens’, he could not find it in himself to be so nonchalant about it.
He was no stranger to magic but the kind that flows here felt unpredictable, almost feral. He thinks that the god that had directed them to dig must have known that in doing so there was a risk of disturbing the well of magic that lived inside of it, and while he supposes he should not be surprised—it seemed to be a trend that gods only wreaked havoc, that they did not actually much care for any that existed in the mortal world—he still looks back on the experience with a flicker of resentment.
He had learned his lesson, though.
The mountain had changed him, both physically (lightning now flashed across the storm-cloud coloring of his skin, and a different thread of magic had woven itself into his veins) and mentally, because he looked out onto this world with a newfound skepticism and mistrust. He does not go to investigate the flooded lands or try to find the shores of the underwater kingdom, and he keeps clear of the supposed ruins that had been unearthed. He has had his fill of this land’s magic and surprises, and he seeks out instead the solitude and quiet of the forest.
It’s why when he accidentally stumbles across the mare in the forest he inwardly recoils, though outwardly he merely comes to a standstill. Through a thick tangle of forelock he watches her with a guarded expression, taking in the pale shimmer of her body and her oddly black eyes. There is something otherworldly about them, in a way that is equal parts captivating and unsettling, and he notices that he had likely stared in silence for a heartbeat too long. “Apologies,” he says in the deep rumble of his voice—the promise of thunder seemingly ever-present inside of his chest. His face, though far from unkind, remains walled off from where he stands a few paces from her, lightning sparking across his skin in the shade of the trees that tower above them. “I didn't realize anyone else was out here.”
He was no stranger to magic but the kind that flows here felt unpredictable, almost feral. He thinks that the god that had directed them to dig must have known that in doing so there was a risk of disturbing the well of magic that lived inside of it, and while he supposes he should not be surprised—it seemed to be a trend that gods only wreaked havoc, that they did not actually much care for any that existed in the mortal world—he still looks back on the experience with a flicker of resentment.
He had learned his lesson, though.
The mountain had changed him, both physically (lightning now flashed across the storm-cloud coloring of his skin, and a different thread of magic had woven itself into his veins) and mentally, because he looked out onto this world with a newfound skepticism and mistrust. He does not go to investigate the flooded lands or try to find the shores of the underwater kingdom, and he keeps clear of the supposed ruins that had been unearthed. He has had his fill of this land’s magic and surprises, and he seeks out instead the solitude and quiet of the forest.
It’s why when he accidentally stumbles across the mare in the forest he inwardly recoils, though outwardly he merely comes to a standstill. Through a thick tangle of forelock he watches her with a guarded expression, taking in the pale shimmer of her body and her oddly black eyes. There is something otherworldly about them, in a way that is equal parts captivating and unsettling, and he notices that he had likely stared in silence for a heartbeat too long. “Apologies,” he says in the deep rumble of his voice—the promise of thunder seemingly ever-present inside of his chest. His face, though far from unkind, remains walled off from where he stands a few paces from her, lightning sparking across his skin in the shade of the trees that tower above them. “I didn't realize anyone else was out here.”
CAN YOU TELL ME, WILL I BREAK OR WILL I BEND?
@Rezza