[M] Serviam

Ithiel de le Poer · 07-14-2012, 09:01 AM

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(465) Post count increase = goooooood and cool beans c;

Ithiel is by me!

It was good to find one sharing of his beliefs. Ithiel was more fervent than many even in Scintilla, but here he felt almost a complete anomaly. He found he could only nod in agreement to her proclamation; all in life was a test of faith, and Ithiel was certain his would not waver. It had not in his life thus far, and he -- among others -- often forgot his youth. His training had hammered him into a particular shape, and part of that shape was a forsaking of youth and youthful pastimes such as play and laughter. His humor was dry, feeble and often dark, on the rare occasion he was humorous.

There was no humor in him with the thought of the thing binding her leg, digging against flesh and old scar tissue. He wanted to shiver even thinking about it, but the dark-hued coyote kept his composure all the same, turning back to her and keeping his eyes even with her horse. Red eyes studied the chocolate animal, appraising its fine coat and tall stance. It was a good specimen of horse, Ithiel thought: more sleek than Lystra, and surely of better temperament.

Will he follow? the dark-furred hybrid asked of the horse. He did not think she was a rider: the horse seemed more a pack animal than vehicle of transport to Ithiel. If she had been a rider, surely she would have ridden to their border. I would give you my saddle, but my Lystra is not a kind horse. His voice was genuinely apologetic; perhaps he should take to riding Bairre around the territory -- surely the red roan was a better mount for any injured or otherwise incapacitated travelers he might find.

She complimented his voice, and Ithiel was almost shocked into silence for a moment. In the end, he smiled, a fuller one than he'd given before, and dipped his head. I have never heard that compliment before. Thank you, he said, pondering whether he was perhaps meant to be a priest, then. Surely, though, priestliness and godliness required more than just a good voice. The hybrid paused and lifted an ear as the answering call came. He listened, and turned back to Willam.

My cousin bids me let you enter, he said. He felt a swell of pride in knowing he was trusted enough to admit a newcomer to the clan, though he'd known such trust was coming sooner or later with Myrika at the helm. Shall we go to the mansion? There is food there, but if dried isn't to your liking, I will hunt. It was nothing to feather a bird in flight or a rabbit in retreat to Ithiel -- his aim was near flawless, and his arrows swift and deadly.

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