3rd Winter, 510AV Late afternoon Jil'sk was tiring. Sulavik could tell. He had ridden hard today, rising early in the morning before the sun had risen. He had been awoken from his slumber by an active mind - screams echoing in his head as he saw himself, as if watching from outside, slash at his uncle's throat in a fit of murderous rage. In a way, he supposed he was watching the events from outside. Sulavik had been pushed outside, pushed into submission by the dominant Makil - an unwelcome addition to the already confused mindset of Sulavik. The recently born Makil was certainly the more dominant, but allowed Sulavik to rule for now - realising the Sulavik was less likely to get them killed in regular situations. Of course she's tiring, you idiot. You rode her hard all day. It's not the petching horse's fault that you have nightmares, like a child. Makil spoke up in his head. Sulavik felt a flash of derision rise to the forefront of his conciousness, Makil making his thoughts known - as he always did. It was extremely irritating to have to share your mind with someone who though most of what you did was stupid. Though, Makil was useful. His murderous rage would help in the long run. Not my fault, either, Makil dearest. You're the one that killed Uncle Jelis. Your fault I have these dreams. Nevertheless, it was imperative that Sulavik rest Jil'sk soon, before the stubborn horse gave out from exhaustion. The images of the dusty maps he often consulted back in Riverfall flashed through his mind. He was in the middle of the Wildlands, close to Zeltiva and Syliras. Sulavik was reluctant to sleep in the middle of the road, worried for what could come upon him in the middle of the night. Where could he stay for the night... How stupid are you? What? Priskil's Pond. I swear you have the memory of a fish. Thanks for your opinion, Makil. Now shut up. You're irritating me. Fortunately for the survival of what little there was of Sulavik's sanity, Makil did indeed shut up. Sulavik urged Jil'sk with his heels, coaxing out a few miles from her, and though the horse was near exhaustion, she rallied to the cause. They galloped the last few miles, Makil mercifully silent and Sulavik just glad of the chance to rest. He reached the glade not long after, perhaps an hour. The pond certainly was as beautiful as the books said. The pond was a tranquil blue, the water still. The grass was green and seemed perfect to Sulavik as a place to rest his head. There was plenty of fruit hanging from a plethora of trees. The place was ethereal and Sulavik, for the first time in an age,felt as though a god might be good. Hope stirred in him, almost involuntarily. But of course Makil had to ruin it. Yum, meat! Shut up, Makil. Could you not see I was having a moment? You know, the divine deities touching my mortal soul, and all that shit? I know. That's why I spoke. You may think guys are scrumptious, but it doesn't mean you have to turn into an emotional woman. Sulavik didn't even bother to reply. Getting off Jil'sk with a sigh, he arranged a blanket over her back and began to erect his tent, getting out everything he would need for the night. Guess he would be staying here, then. |