Family Duties [Open Herd Meeting]

Oh, my tongue's the only muscle in my body that works harder than my heart Rest and time had done for him what little else could. Korri flitted from one rooftop to another, stretching the muscles he had so recently crippled with abuse. They had begun the morning with some protest, but as the day went on, he regained the mastery he was so accustomed to possessing. His body still functioned as if should. This knowledge alone brought him vast relief. With a last quick loop, he spiraled back down the streets of Halyven, hooves ringing as they struck the stone. A chill wind whistled through the ruins, but Korri paid it little mind. His thick winter coat, more than halfway grown in when he had arrived in the Portal, now shrouded his lithe figure in its protective layers. He was no stranger to cold; Osslen's temperatures dipped far below these in the dead of the white season. Korri was quite comfortable as he shuffled his wings back into place and blinked up and down the streets. He supposed he was well enough recovered to leave the people of this place behind and broaden the perimeter of his search for Auga, but he wondered if this was truly the most prudent course of action. Was it not better to have a home base? To have allies? He mulled this over as he turned toward the keep, opting to walk the rest of the way rather than fly. It would give him some time to keep thinking, and he had so much to think about since his abrupt arrival. The people of Halyven seemed kind, though it was such unblinking kindness Korri could not quite bring himself to trust it. Nevertheless, it was a gentler place than he had expected, and he could find no good reason to leave it behind if it wished to have him. Where had he to go? Once he found Auga, they were still outcasts. Still exiles. Still homeless unless they wished to give themselves to the embrace of the sea. If they could even find their sea. Korri sighed, his breath pluming in the crisp air. He could see the most logical path laid out before him. It was only a tendency to overthink which prevented him from embracing it. A sort of emotional stubbornness. He could always leave if he needed to. He had survived thus far; he would continue to do whatever he must. So it was an easy decision, really... Or, it ought to be. He paused only briefly at the entrance to the keep, his head lifting so he could stare up at the top of its face high, high above him. He had a sudden desire to fly around and land on top of it, but he was fairly certain he had caught word of a meeting or some such thing going on today inside, and well, it was probably better to attend than to make himself absent. He had all but decided his course. He ducked inside at a brusque pace, unwilling to allow his indecision to seep out into his body language. He conducted himself with a curious posture instead, head up and ears forward, wings sweeping loosely back. His time in the city had convinced him the people of the Rift were for the most part enormously overgrown, so he hoped to find a place somewhere near the front of the gathering, nearest to the leaders, where he could hear them speak. He kept an eye out for Kiada, wondering if he might spot her inside, but he didn't quite see her yet. Only the rows of braziers filling the place with golden light, and the great figures of the two crowns standing in their places before everyone else. A strange sensation: that he had done this before. The memory of entering a different but similar place, of pacing down stone hallways. Another lifetime. Like straddling the line between past and present. An unwelcome roiling in his stomach, like an instinct: Get out get out what are you doing? But neither Roscorro nor Rixen were his father.  He could wait. He could wait and see. It would not be a trap. He prayed he would not regret it. He offered both the men a friendly nod as he came to stand still, waiting to hear whatever it was they wished to discuss. He could announce his intentions later, if necessary. There would always be time.

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