Post by hallaloth on Sept 25, 2006 5:20:09 GMT -5
It never did to accept missions anymore. Especially if a person was only sent to check on one or two uncertain varibles. Yeah, well you could get time alone, even that joy could fade over a few weeks.
The gold tassles on his kimino style clothes bounced against his boots. Three weeks and he still had no answers for his superiors. A spy? In a sense. An enemy? Inderminate. There wasn't enough information to go by, and he'd not really seen any action of shadow here, yet. That didn't mean of course, that there wasn't any.
He held the bridle of his paint mare. She was elven bred, a load smarter then a normal horse, but hardly as graceful as a unicorn. They could speak, telapathicaly, but they were more often quiet, hardly even gracing their chosen rider with a word.
She was soaked with the light drizzle that he'd worked in this morning. It didn't do practice tighter manuvors in the rain, it kicked up too much mud. And her being a black and white horse, she looked almost fully black right now. Of course, his own wear hadn't fared much better. The blade that hung from a sash at his side was coated with a thin dulling sheet of grime. He could always clean it later though, the horse came first.
His eyes watched those still fighting in the sword practice courts, and he felt a longing to join them. He was losing his edge really, not having practiced in two weeks. But he wasn't about to do anything that stood out.
The gold tassles on his kimino style clothes bounced against his boots. Three weeks and he still had no answers for his superiors. A spy? In a sense. An enemy? Inderminate. There wasn't enough information to go by, and he'd not really seen any action of shadow here, yet. That didn't mean of course, that there wasn't any.
He held the bridle of his paint mare. She was elven bred, a load smarter then a normal horse, but hardly as graceful as a unicorn. They could speak, telapathicaly, but they were more often quiet, hardly even gracing their chosen rider with a word.
She was soaked with the light drizzle that he'd worked in this morning. It didn't do practice tighter manuvors in the rain, it kicked up too much mud. And her being a black and white horse, she looked almost fully black right now. Of course, his own wear hadn't fared much better. The blade that hung from a sash at his side was coated with a thin dulling sheet of grime. He could always clean it later though, the horse came first.
His eyes watched those still fighting in the sword practice courts, and he felt a longing to join them. He was losing his edge really, not having practiced in two weeks. But he wasn't about to do anything that stood out.
