» the calm before the storm

Cold. Cold. Cold. There's a voice in the back of his mind telling him to turn around. A voice someone long ago told him was named common sense. A voice he maybe chooses to ignore more often than he should. He ignores it now: climbing from a season of torrential rain to a season of wind and snow. North: a desolation of heaving earth. The ground trembles beneath his hooves; something in the distance roars. A waterfall? Seiji can't be sure. He must keep walking, moving. Sometimes he lifts his gait to a trot, cold air whistling between his ears. When he slows, his muscles seize and shiver. Cold. But he keeps going. Things here he hasn't yet seen; people he hasn't met. Voices he has yet to hear. He proceeds with hunger in his eyes, in the strident fall of each hoof. He cannot be idle while need presses down on him; he marches up through the snow determined, despite the pain. The false wing on his side twitches every time he shivers. He follows the noise. It is a waterfall, though unlike anything he's ever seen. The moment it comes into view, Seiji halts. Forgetting the cold. Ignoring the group gathered near the base of the falls. Such a horrible thing: red, red as gore. Red in a torrent thundering down, the color of hate. Something not cold shudders once in him. His ears turn back. No, he thinks. But he can see the others gathered nearby. Some of them he knows — a little. Maybe that's why he moves forward, instead of turning back. Seiji finds them arguing, but he doesn't know about what. His dark eyes move from the antlered man to the great, winged man and then slowly over two mares he doesn't know. Both winged, as well. Something sharp, something a little darker, entering his gaze just toward the end of his approach. He is looking at them as he steps up beside Roscorro. Then he is looking at Roscorro, smiling, nodding. Nodding to the group at large. Seiji is silent, as ever, though if he could speak he would not. He wants to know what's going on, but he doesn't interrupt. His gaze turns thoughtfully toward the waterfall — he thinks they must be arguing about that, but he doesn't know how to fix it. He blinks at the group, ears twitching. Patient until he learns more.

img by Tildae @ flickr