Rainforest Cliffs
The babe recoils, baby limbs stuttering in fright as she reels away from the gnashing of teeth. He is gratified by her fright, but also pitiful. She is so alone and frail. It occurs to him that she could be swallowed so easily by the monsters that lurk in the shadows (if not by the shadows themselves).
She stands there in his wake as still as a statue. He grits his teeth and scrutinizes her, mismatched gaze unashamed in its judgement as he commits her features to memory. She is small, even for her age, and a pair of blunted baby-antlers sprout from her noggin. Most peculiar are the bright white eyes peering back at him with a ghostly glimmer; milky and hollow, as if she is blind, though surely she isn't. She cowers as his words lash the open air, and he snorts, unimpressed by her meekness.
He ruffles his sun-bleached feathers in discomfort, hoping to dispel a bit of the heat accumulating under the large appendages. Varuna swats his tail, twisting his lips and knitting his brow. She doesn't move a muscle, defiant, unwilling to leave his company. Still, hot breath puffs from his nose, inches from her face. He challenges her with a heavy gaze for a few long moments before it becomes clear that she isn't going anywhere. Truth be told, lonely as he is, the colt could use a bit of company.
"Can you speak?" he questions, and without waiting for a response: "What is your name?" If she means to shadow him, it is only appropriate that he knows what to call her.
She stands there in his wake as still as a statue. He grits his teeth and scrutinizes her, mismatched gaze unashamed in its judgement as he commits her features to memory. She is small, even for her age, and a pair of blunted baby-antlers sprout from her noggin. Most peculiar are the bright white eyes peering back at him with a ghostly glimmer; milky and hollow, as if she is blind, though surely she isn't. She cowers as his words lash the open air, and he snorts, unimpressed by her meekness.
He ruffles his sun-bleached feathers in discomfort, hoping to dispel a bit of the heat accumulating under the large appendages. Varuna swats his tail, twisting his lips and knitting his brow. She doesn't move a muscle, defiant, unwilling to leave his company. Still, hot breath puffs from his nose, inches from her face. He challenges her with a heavy gaze for a few long moments before it becomes clear that she isn't going anywhere. Truth be told, lonely as he is, the colt could use a bit of company.
"Can you speak?" he questions, and without waiting for a response: "What is your name?" If she means to shadow him, it is only appropriate that he knows what to call her.
STILL YOUR HEART, THE DARK IS STILL THE DARK
You may always use magic/force on/against Varuna (excluding powerplay).
