miles and miles; any

[Davorin]

Miles and miles of netherworlds I roam

Time had been kind to him as it is with most horses. They are fortunate they do not wrinkle and fade if their genetics had permitted it. Davorin is no different and the buckskin is thicker, fuller, a man now where a young colt of a stallion had stood before.

The fullness of his antlers lay heavy upon his head, a crown of points, they are broad and thick. Dav stands with a proud head lifted, looking over the meadow he occupied. So many names had come and gone, erased by the fingers of time, smudged away. Davorin had seemed to wake from a darkness where he was strong, clear headed and curious.

The sun had rose some hours ago to burn away the early mist that the stallion had appreciated. Dew clung to blades of grass, tiny prisms of shattered rainbows, that he knocked away with each step of his tawny hide. Others roamed here, their bodies close, their conversations whispered between them. He breathes it all in...slowly, methodically, waiting.

Beqanna keeps it's residents close. It is nearly impossible to escape the clutch of it's grasp, like roots buried deep int he heart, dark veins that keep your heart beating. His lineage has been forgotten by most, no doubt, the valley fractured apart and replaced by unnamked lands that are foreign to his tongue. The world smelled different now as others moved past in bright fuscias and green. Nearly all were antlered or wings or scaled. It was frightening and exciting for the stallion as others crept from their resting spots to mingle int he meadow. Surely a familiar face would emerge but in the mean time he could entertain himself with a conversation with a willing participant. Dav takes steps to further push him self into the belly grasses, tugging at a few, chewing slowly.

davorin

[Voracious]

You twist, I turn, who's the first to burn?

You sit and stay, I don't obey.

For the first time in his life, he breathes air not tainted by the lingering burn of salt. For the first time in his life, he feels the heat of a sun on his back not fabricated and filtered by water. It’s strange, alluring, and for a time, he loses himself.

It’s easy, when this world is as foreign as it is fascinating.

At first he had feared what fell creatures may cross his path, but when he had traversed meadow and forest with no trouble and nary a second glance, he had grown more comfortable in his ability to slip seamlessly into a bland life upon the surface. He had worried once how others might see him, a great and odd creature who does not fit and does not belong. But the land in which he had surfaced seems to house a great many odd being.

So, to what some might seem frightening and unusual, offers to him only comfort and reassurance.

His only remaining fear lay in the lingering worry that his clansmen might yet try to locate him. But they are far away from here, and no doubt they had grown bored of the chase and would forget him as easily as they seemed to those whose lives they ended. At least, he certainly hoped they would. He had never belonged there, and he has no intention of returning.

On this day he finds himself in a place where breeze and sky holds sway, and long golden grass tickles his knees. He has grown complacent, barely paying heed to the path he takes, but when the sway of broad antlers catches his sight, he freezes abruptly, the feather’s of his tail rising in aggression as his wings flare faintly from where he’d tuck them at his sides. With an alarmed snort, he tosses his own antlered head before lowering it, eyes narrowed as he approaches what he is certain must be one of his kinsmen with tense steps.

When he draws close enough however, he draws up abruptly, head jerking up, nostrils flaring as the realization sinks in that this is not, in fact, anyone he knows. Wings lifting, he dances backwards, gaze dropping sheepishly as he clears his throat. “Uh, sorry.”

Voracious