it’s not the destination so much as the journey " />
The Lost Islands
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Your King
Asmodeus
Your Queen
Nyimara
The Second
None
The Herd
Name, Name, Name
The Sub-Herd
Name, Name, Name
Allies
Name (Land)
Enemies
Solomon (Cove)
The Rules
  • There will be no fraternizing with enemies. If you put yourself knowingly in danger, don't expect a rescue.
  • We are only as strong as our weakest link. See to it that you are getting stronger in some skill that is useful, whether it is battling, recruiting, charming, etc.
  • The King and Queen have final say in all matters.
it’s not the destination so much as the journey
Posted on April 19, 2012 at 08:36:09 PM by DEBONAIRE



The only rules that really matter are these:
what a man can do and what a man can’t do.


He is unaware of the shadow who passes through silently, of the arrival of Neassa and her dam - they are spirits to him, for the dead are most real in this moment. On more than one occasion has he brushed elbows with the specter of death, but always had the Reaper been cheated of his victim - until now. It was Debonaire's first truthful encounter with loss - even his sire and dam he could imagine alive back in his homeland, though their age at this point would make that unlikely - and he is at a loss himself, drifting in silence as one of the tethers which had anchored him firmly to earth, to the isles, was cut.

For a long moment he lingers in this state - rocked and buffeted by the waves of sorrow as he strives to adjust for the loss of this grounding weight. Unfortunately, he is not given nearly long enough to recover, has barely had the time to register and mourn the passing of Razvan, when Encantador arrives to draw him sharply from the numb world of his thoughts and immerse him back in the grim truth of reality. He is surprised to feel that his heart still pulses, each throb of it an agony, and an undeserved gift that he would have gladly surrendered to return to life the empty shell before him.

What... did you... DO!?

Only this uncharacteristic attack by Encantador is capably of fully piercing his torpor and dispelling the paralysis - Debonaire backpeddles frantically, his own teeth bared in defense - and then stumbles and falls. Pressed far beyond the endurance of which the injured limb is capable, his left hind refuses to endure further abuse, spilling him unceremoniously to the sand. The tawny male's breaths come frantically, snatched between moments of agony as the pain dances up and down the limb, from pastern to thigh and back again, like wildfire. Above him looms the form of the sandy king of this land, magnificent and terrible in his rage - in one blow he could end it, in one instant Debonaire could join Razvan and they could cross the bridge between the worlds of the living and the dead together.

Allowing his lids to droop over pain-glazed eyes, the stallion submits himself wholly - unable to muster the strength to fight for even his life.

He does not consider whether it will hurt, that moment before darkness - instead, Debonaire muses over his life. There was only regret as he sifts through memories down to the barest dregs - he would leave behind no legacy, not of love nor family nor glory. In his wake, the world would be much the same as it would have been without him - a worthless, pointless life, with much of it wasted. Razvan had changed the world for the better, had touched the lives of many - it showed in the devotion of his mates, the love of his children, and the unswerving loyalty of his surviving lord.

He had even changed Debonaire.


Debonaire
gentleman || 7 years || buckskin || arabian mix || 15.2 hands
|| voiced by Reba ||


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