03-13-2021, 08:17 PM
Rembrandt
He is oblivious to whatever it is that stops the filly in her tracks and it does not immediately occur to him to ask. (Though he does cast a quick glance over his shoulder into the shadows behind him, unaware that she is reacting to something that is changing on his own body. Besides, the monsters have manipulated the bone into something else entirely by the time he turns his head to look anyway.) She seems to recover quickly, joining him on the riverbank and exhaling a breath of airy laughter in response to his question.
A strange concept indeed.
A year of perpetual darkness for which the citizens of Beqanna have no explanation. They seem to have simply accepted it. He tilts his head, his brow darkening in confusion. He turns his head to peer deeper into the shadows on the opposite side of the river but there are no answers there either.
Something gone wrong with the magic, monsters lurking in the shadows. Perhaps he should not have returned home. Perhaps he should have stayed gone where the sun still shone and the shadows did not teem with monsters. He shifts his weights and draws his focus back to the filly. “Have you seen them?” he asks, though he does not know why. It doesn’t seem important. “The monsters?”
He will leave in the morning, he thinks. He will retrace his steps until he finds the sun again. There is nothing for him here anyway. He left no family here, no great love of his life. If there are things in the dark there must be a reason they’re being called monsters, certainly.
“Why are they being called monsters?”
It is a strange feeling, too, to be significantly older than this chestnut filly and looking to her to answer all of these questions. But there must have been some catalyst, he thinks, it doesn’t make sense that the sun might have just blinked out of the sky.
A strange concept indeed.
A year of perpetual darkness for which the citizens of Beqanna have no explanation. They seem to have simply accepted it. He tilts his head, his brow darkening in confusion. He turns his head to peer deeper into the shadows on the opposite side of the river but there are no answers there either.
Something gone wrong with the magic, monsters lurking in the shadows. Perhaps he should not have returned home. Perhaps he should have stayed gone where the sun still shone and the shadows did not teem with monsters. He shifts his weights and draws his focus back to the filly. “Have you seen them?” he asks, though he does not know why. It doesn’t seem important. “The monsters?”
He will leave in the morning, he thinks. He will retrace his steps until he finds the sun again. There is nothing for him here anyway. He left no family here, no great love of his life. If there are things in the dark there must be a reason they’re being called monsters, certainly.
“Why are they being called monsters?”
It is a strange feeling, too, to be significantly older than this chestnut filly and looking to her to answer all of these questions. But there must have been some catalyst, he thinks, it doesn’t make sense that the sun might have just blinked out of the sky.
FALLING FEELS LIKE FLYING UNTIL YOU HIT THE GROUND
@[Memorie]
@[The Monsters] let's mess with his camouflage!