god give me style and give me grace

Razekiel Lykoi · 11-04-2011, 05:31 PM

[html]

Saluce. Borders south of Phoenix Forest. PPed a little.

Razekiel knew it would be some time before the flowers would show their faces again, but he allowed himself to sigh only once before turning smiles to the frost-filled wind instead. The winter would not extinguish his spirit; cold as it was, the coyote had spent many a snow season huddled makeshift huts crafted with little more than sticks and stones. Firepits ever-present outside it, the male would sit with crackling heat at his toes and strum gingerly at his acoustic, fingers numbed yet unhindered to play.

The coyote knew the Circle of Life: Death was inevitable. Death brought new life. Thus, the spring would return again, and after the winter's bite and suffering, would be welcomed with even wider arms. That first breath of the fresh spring wind — his heart fluttered at the thought itself. The Great Mother was his lover, and though she remained with him still even in the darkest of winter nights, he knew she herself could not wait to awake from her hibernation and stretch her arms over the greenest of newly-grown fields and budding trees and yawn great spring breezes over the lands.

For now, however, Razekiel would huddle in his little red scarf and stroll along with his blue roan companion, chatting as always as if the two were equals equivalent in intellect. Whether Lark truly understood all the coyote gurgled and rambled Razekiel didn't know, but the horse never ceased to entertain the man and provide for excellent company.

"You look cold, fledgling," the Seiryu smiled, wagging joint between his teeth as he pulled his scarf from his neck and flopped it around the stallion's broad neck and shoulders. Lark breathed from his nostrils and shook his head, freeing trapped mane from beneath the fabric, then nuzzled at the laughing man's hand. Side by side they walked, until the coyote paused and raised cold-numbed nose to the sky. "Ahh, do you smell that, my Lark? A friend walks among us; or does he still wish himself a stranger?"

Smiling pleasantly to himself, the coyote motioned to the stallion and neared the borders, raising his arm to the air and waving delightfully as he closed the distance between he and their visitor. "Saluce, is it? Namaste, namaste, my friend," he called. "Welcome home, man, or what will always be your home to return to when you're ready."

Login




Remember me Lost Password?