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 Posted: Tue Oct 30, 2012 9:47 am
Home..But this wasn't home, not really. It was where they lived, where they went about their daily lives, but this was not home. They had been offered a glimpse, a tantalizing glimmer of something that might of been, or might come to be. Nergui was still unclear of the significance of what they'd seen, but she couldn't deny the longing for it's existence. It was that, coupled with the babbling ramblings of the whispered voices that had returned to her, that had the dark skinned mare laying in bed but unable to sleep. The glow of her one golden eye was casting soft shadows around her, but she wasn't paying them any mind. It wasn't the room around her she was seeing, but the familiar forges of the Death that had risen among house topped trees and lush gardens. It's waiting, come find it..With a sigh the mare pushed herself up, cool palms raising to press against the warmth of her cheeks before she pushed her fingers back though the silver of her hair. She couldn't sleep, and laying here in the dark with her own unsettled thoughts was starting to agitate the voices. Slipping out of bed, Nergui grabbed the folded fabric of her veil from the small table at the center of her hut, and pulled the thin material over her shoulders before exiting through the flap into the cool quiet of the night. The ground was cold under her bare feet, but that, and the hardness of the worn dirt, helped remind her of what was real, and while that helped to hush the voices, she needed something more. The path she took was familiar, and before long she'd come to the tent of a certain guardian. Though now she was here, she was unsure how to proceed. It was the middle of the night, and surely after what they'd all been through Soren was exhausted and no doubt sleeping. Still.. There was a reason she'd gone to him. "Soren," Her voice was clear, but careful. She didn't want to disturb the guardian's neighbors.
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Posted: Fri Nov 02, 2012 7:00 pm
The events had been...different. Soren had returned to his rather simple home, alone, mind full of what had happened. Insanity, the fog. Seeing Senga taken like that, four horsemen almost brought to their knees by one of their own, had been difficult for him. Then to fight their own, over and over, memories and twisted forms of others that he knew...but at least it had ended on a good note.
He had cleaned up before half throwing himself on the furs that he was beginning to collect again, as comfortable a bed as any, enjoying the hides of various creatures on his bare back as he drifted off almost immediately despite the relatively early hour.
It was perhaps because of that, the fact he had already gotten a decent amount of sleep, and years of training that had him subconsciously listening for his name being called, summoning him, that had his eyes snapping open at the voice. He got up immediately, not bothering with a shirt. It was the middle of the night, and sometimes he doubted if there was a member of the clan who had not seen him shirtless at one point or another. He opened the flap of the tent to see the Priestess standing there, and for a long moment he said nothing. She seemed to be fine, physically at least, no immediate threat as he moved aside, holding open the flap to the tent and gesturing for her to enter, his tent obviously warmer than the chill outside. "Priestess?" A greeting, acknowledgement, a question.
The inside was almost spartan. Food, a few utensils not quite scattered but not exactly put away either, a book on a low table, fur and extra clothing stacked to one side, the pile of furs he mentally referred to as his bed. Furs seemed to be his primary luxury actually, as larger ones were layered out, all but covering the bare earth that would otherwise have been the floor. She had seen his dwelling before, and other than the fact that the book might have changed as he had traded it for another, the addition of a few new furs, it was almost the same as it always looked.
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Posted: Wed Jan 23, 2013 8:35 am
There was a good part of her that hadn't expected him to hear her, or to raise from his bed in the middle of the night to greet the woman standing outside his tent. She hadn't announced herself, hadn't made arrangements to pay him a visit, and now was surely not convenient. He would have been in his rights to ignore her, and she couldn't really have blamed him. But through the quiet of the night she heard movement, and a moment later the flap of the tent had opened to frame the stallion now looking back at her. Standing there shirtless, the soft back glow of a dying fire casting extreme shadows, the mare could do nothing but stare for a handful of seconds as mismatched eyes dropped from that handsome, familiar face, and down to the etched lines of sculpted muscles. His acknowledgement drew her attention back up, and she dipped her chin in the faintest of nods for a greeting. Now quite unsure what to say to him after wandering through the preserve, in the dark, to reach his tent. The necessity of it now seemed lacking, and she wondered if perhaps she should simply apologize for waking him and return to her own hut. He had held open the flap of the tent though, stepping aside, and the invitation drew her forward, a grateful smile forming on her lips. "I'm sorry to wake you." She paused just inside, gaze dropping to the soft fur that was so much kinder to the soles of bare feet. Sparse though his tent might have been, it reminded her, at least in part, of home. Comforting, but sad reminder of what was lost, and she pulled the thin veil a little tighter around her shoulders. "I couldn't sleep."
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