Quote:
The moon is particularly bright tonight, hanging lazily in the night sky like a round, yellow eye. There's a strangeness in the air, a sense of being watched. Spirits are particularly restless this evening, and those wandering outside of their homes may find themselves at the whims of the more mischievous magic. Though it's highly unlikely anything malicious will happen, the spirits aren't above giving an unfortunate centaur or centauress the scare of a lifetime! Does anything odd happen to your character, good or bad?
Arhys didn’t believe in the spirits. Not as actual beings, but more as an ideal. Even if he had seen for himself what had happened during the fall festival. Seeing confused ‘taurs or otherwise who simply appeared from nowhere. After having heard the stories of following sounds or lights, while in one place and suddenly they were somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away from where they started.
In his case, that wasn’t what had happened. For him, he was brought along on a mundane, diplomatic trip. Meant to travel here -through the mists and twisting trails that kept them safe- to attend the Festival. It was a much anticipated trip. It was meant to be his proving ground. He had a duty, one that actually meant something, and he was meant to succeed. To show that he was worthy of his position. That he was worthy of his name and his blood. He was meant to find glory and return with honor. So the herd could be proud of him. So that his Mother could be proud of him.
But reality and intentions do not always align.
He had been left, stranded here, far away from what he had known, not at the whims of some spirits, but by the decisions of those he trusted and believed in. Left alone, in an unfamiliar place. Left without herd, without blood, without a driving purpose or reason to be. Left at loose ends, whiling his days away as he tried to find some purpose or reason.
So no, after such betrayal, he did not believe in spirits, nor higher powers. He lost all faith in the many things he had once believed in. Now, all he had to rely on and believe in, was himself. A hard lesson to learn, and even harder to put into practice. After all, he was a joke, a laughingstock, to those he had long looked up to and fought to serve beside.
When he had first realized the truth, that he was here – for good, or for ill – he had not had any idea of what he was going to do, or where he was going to stay. He had some provisions and few belongings, but that wouldn’t be enough for the long term. And he was a social being, he knew he wasn’t able to survive out on his own, so he sought lodgings in or near the village in which he had been left. He would be near others, which would help be a balm to his wounded heart, and even if he couldn’t do or be what he had expected in his life, surely he could find something to which he was suited, but the young stallion first needed to find shelter. He wandered the town, upset and more than a little lost, but he knew that eventually someone would take pity on him and help. He would simply have to hang on until then.
It was late night, he had just about given up, resigned to sleeping out in the open, again, when a kind soul had steered him in the direction of a hut on the edge of town. It was not the prettiest, in definite need of repairs, but the bones were solid, and with some attention, it could be a welcome home. At first, he was more than a little skeptical. It sounded almost too good to be true, and after recent experiences, he didn’t want to face disappointment again. But he made his way to the outskirts of the village, carefully following the directions given, and sure enough, there it was just like they had said.
A seemingly sad hut, covered in dirt, and dust. Cobwebs hung on the eaves, before one even went inside. With the door ajar, swinging forlornly with the wind. The place was clearly abandoned. Just like him. Arhys felt an immediate connection. This place, sure it wasn’t the greatest, nor the most grand, but it was solid. It was a good shelter, and with some polish and some hard work, he could make this place better than it was. Better than perhaps those who had lived there before could have ever believed.
Initial repairs were easy enough. Sweeping, dusting, and fixing the front door took a matter of hours. It gave him four walls and a roof, providing him with shelter from the elements, and it had rough furniture which would suffice for the present. But he could see this place as he wanted to live. He could add on other rooms and amenities. He could add outbuildings to turn into armories. Clear a field he could turn into a practice yard. Add some mannequins and targets to practice with and keep his hand in. Just because there weren’t any soldiers here in this remote village, and more than that, there was truly little need, there were still ideas he had, things he could do, and he didn’t want to lose the skills he had learned. There was more than enough to do here to keep him busy until the spring at least, if he so desired, and even longer.
The kindly centaur kept watch from the shadows- seeing as the poor lost stallion started to find purpose. Started to live once more. And the hut which had once been so full of hope and promise, but had been abandoned to despair, filled with broken dreams, changed along with him and became alive again. This place had been meant for more than emptiness and silence, deserted and scarred by the tragedy that had occurred there.
Perhaps the young stallion might have lost his faith in spirits and higher powers, but that didn’t mean they had lost there faith in him. And while some spirits might have been on the more mischievous and puckish side… she wasn’t one of them. She saw those in need and though there was little she could do physically to aid, she could give advice. She could help wounded souls find a small measure of peace. And here, she was able to do so much more, in giving the stallion hope, and a purpose.
Some spirits might have taken advantage of his vulnerabilities, and used the sadness and despair, twisting him, dousing the light she saw, twisting it to something unrecognizable. He would learn to believe in them again, then! But not under her watch. Even if she was just a minor spirit, he was a kindred spirit. He was hers, and she wouldn’t see his light go out.
WC: 1090