the path to enlightenment
A R I S H O K
is paved with ignorance
Though his eyes have parted ways with her to travel the dunes of his desert kingdom, the distance of his expression is merely illusion; Arishok's thoughts dwell on the basran mare, his gaze barely registering the gentle curves that comprise the landscape. Instead, it is Scylla's gentle curves that fill his mind - such a delicate creature by all appearances, small enough that he could comfortably rest his chin atop her head. Yet for all that she seemed fragile, there was an adamant edge of strength to her gaze, and an unyielding confidence in her tone even as she voiced her curiosity.
She was more a warrior than many men.
"A basran is a stranger, one whose purpose I do not yet know."
Arishok responds, watching her from the periphery of his vision. The word she had given for her name - a concept of individuality he still struggled to comprehend - reverberated through his mind, causing memories of home to surface. Scylla...selah, eternal as the stone. Perhaps their worlds were not as parallel as he had first perceived. Turning, at last, to face her once more, Arishok meets her gaze again, probing for the strength within that will define her purpose. Shokaad or ariaad? As of yet, he was still uncertain, and frustration lends a perceptibly accusatory edge to his next words.
"Your name was born from my people's tongue."
Then, shrugging in response to her inquiry, as the brief moment of tension rolls from his shoulders.
"I follow the path. When it is intended that others should walk beside me, it will be so."
But for all his apparent indifference, his expression is thoughtful as he continues to study the girl. A number of questions are prominent in his mind, but he curbs the curiosity of his tongue; one could often discover more in silence than in speech.
a bloodstained gray stallion
standing proud at 16.2 hands and
following the ways of his warlander ancestors
for nine years and counting
|