09-15-2012, 06:48 PM
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[/html][/html] Once upon a time, Skoll Haskel had been a prince. He’d been a prince with a mother and a father, and two siblings he loved so much, and dreams of becoming a knight, and a maiden with whom his heart had first begun to beat the telltale tempo of one in love. Everything had been going well for him, until his siblings usurped his position without him knowing, and then his mother had been attacked by a nameless monster, and it all fell apart. Ayita Catori had died, and it was clear that her death had taken away the part of Vigilante that Skoll had looked up to, the kingly quality he’d wanted and tried to emulate all his life. The mantle of knight weighed far too heavily on his shoulders when he realized it meant stopping endless bloodshed, or more to the point trying and failing, and patrolling until his paws cracked and bled. And the maiden—she’d been little more than an instant in a dream, and he couldn’t be bothered to cross the forest to visit an empty promise.
The sun-chaser had been broken when the aroma of peppermint first tickled his senses. He had been hurting when they first laid eyes on each other, two shades of the world’s brightest green, and then slowly the world turned and Skoll had worked hard enough to make her laugh that he found himself laughing too. Her name was Nayht, but she was like the morning sun in his life, and every morning he rose with hopes of seeing her again. He knew that she traveled far to visit him (never had she let him come visit her instead), and so there were only a handful of days that this actually came true.
Luckily, his duties of riding along the border on patrol allowed him a glimpse of the neutral territories where she must dwell. He was walking steadily, the wind toying with his mess of hair (although he’d taken at least some care of it since meeting her), when suddenly the breeze shifted and brought him that aroma of mint that heralded her coming. A grin flashed quick as lightning across his face, and he was jogging toward the boundaries of the Kingdom when he heard her calling his name.
The young man wanted nothing more than to keep running and capture her in his arms, drawing them giggling down into the grass for some playful tussling, but he made himself keep his composure. He folded his arms as he reached the border at last, grinning that cocky boyish grin of his, his green eyes dancing down her dark, slim body playfully as if surprised that she were even here.
“Bonjour, ma cherie,” Skoll called at last, stooping in an elaborate bow.
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