He glides along, still half-blinded by the pain in his head. Those eyes, those white-hot burning eyes, do not relent. They bring him nothing but suffering, to such an extent that he wonders if death would really be the worst alternative. Anything has to be better than this, these symptoms that he knows can only be cured by accomplishing the trial he has been set.
Initially he resists the idea of completing them, because he genuinely does not know how. Eventually, after many days of pain, he finally succumbs to the desire to just do what they're telling him, and so he spends his time flying around the Rift looking for likely candidates to perform his necessary tasks with. That's what brings him over the forest as the scream reaches his ears; he pauses for a second, blinking hard as the words reach his mind through the raging agony of the white-hot eyes. Somebody....sounds like they need help. The yearling's heart erupts with hope, and he angles his large wings to bring him down towards the source of the sound. He lands amidst the trees, folding his great wings to his side with painstaking care. His long, powerful stride soon brings him towards the screamer; a filly. The yearling is not good at reading emotions, but even he can sense the girl's anger, and his intelligent mind immediately begins to deduce the reason. The things she's saying....could she be plagued with the agony inside her head, too? "Do you need help with a trial?" he asks in that monotone voice of his, curiously deep despite his tender age. |
@Castiella