Solanis
03-15-2018, 03:18 PM
You're momentarily distracted—by the glow of the flowers, by the colorful ferns, by the reason you call Night Sky Night Sky, by the shadow in the corner of your eye. It's horse-shaped, fluid, elegant, a black river pouring under the stars.
One of your ears is still turned back, the back of your mind mulling over what she said about the flowers, but most of your attention is on the newcomer. You don't know why—there's just something about him, about his grace, his energy, the blackness of his eyes.. it fascinates you. In your limited experience, he seems otherworldly.
Hardly surprising, in this place.
Then Night Sky simply shows up next to him out of nowhere, and you jump a little. It's not quite a flinch, more a start as nervous energy circuits your body; you flick your longish tail and snort. "Hello," you say across the distance, not sure the spell of the stranger is broken, but your mind is quickly reminding you of what's been happening the past few seconds: the flowers have been going out, all around you. "I'm Waker." You don't say much more than that, thinking—with a thin, surprising needling of jealousy—that you'll leave Night Sky to play with the stranger. Instead, you move over to nose Dragon Man's shoulder, before heading off deeper into the flowers.
It's obvious even to you now—they're dimmer than they had been just minutes ago, and spread out among them are ones that are, if not dead exactly, at least out. As you watch, another falters, holds on to its faint, orange glow a heartbeat longer, then it goes black.
Distressing. That's what it is. They're dying all around you and you have no idea what to do about it. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, to find your healer's mind, the part of your brain that kicks in when you're staring at disaster and trying not to lose it.
And since you have an ability at your beck and call, why not use it? Self-consciously your ears flick back into your messy mane, and then thunder rumbles; a refreshing, invigorating wave rolls through, soothing small aches and itches. Simultaneously, you light up with a glow of your own, but you barely pay attention to it—you just keep your head down, walking on, trying to see if it made any difference for the dying flowers.
As you prowl through the field, you notice.. something? Something that looks wrong, somehow more dead than the others, or broken, or—just something that makes you look twice. You place your nose next to it, breathing in its scent. Is it sick?
One of your ears is still turned back, the back of your mind mulling over what she said about the flowers, but most of your attention is on the newcomer. You don't know why—there's just something about him, about his grace, his energy, the blackness of his eyes.. it fascinates you. In your limited experience, he seems otherworldly.
Hardly surprising, in this place.
Then Night Sky simply shows up next to him out of nowhere, and you jump a little. It's not quite a flinch, more a start as nervous energy circuits your body; you flick your longish tail and snort. "Hello," you say across the distance, not sure the spell of the stranger is broken, but your mind is quickly reminding you of what's been happening the past few seconds: the flowers have been going out, all around you. "I'm Waker." You don't say much more than that, thinking—with a thin, surprising needling of jealousy—that you'll leave Night Sky to play with the stranger. Instead, you move over to nose Dragon Man's shoulder, before heading off deeper into the flowers.
It's obvious even to you now—they're dimmer than they had been just minutes ago, and spread out among them are ones that are, if not dead exactly, at least out. As you watch, another falters, holds on to its faint, orange glow a heartbeat longer, then it goes black.
Distressing. That's what it is. They're dying all around you and you have no idea what to do about it. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, to find your healer's mind, the part of your brain that kicks in when you're staring at disaster and trying not to lose it.
And since you have an ability at your beck and call, why not use it? Self-consciously your ears flick back into your messy mane, and then thunder rumbles; a refreshing, invigorating wave rolls through, soothing small aches and itches. Simultaneously, you light up with a glow of your own, but you barely pay attention to it—you just keep your head down, walking on, trying to see if it made any difference for the dying flowers.
As you prowl through the field, you notice.. something? Something that looks wrong, somehow more dead than the others, or broken, or—just something that makes you look twice. You place your nose next to it, breathing in its scent. Is it sick?
