Hoshor Plains no escape

hoshor plains
7/18, midday
95°, clear skies

aw. tag for reference

A week has passed since the evening Garahel had escaped the endless tangles of Bramblepoint. Had @Apisi not been there to help, he most likely would’ve been stuck there much longer.

Where had he gone, Garahel wondered. They had agreed to travel together once they made it out the thicket, and yet the squire walked alone. Perhaps they had walked to fast, or went to far. Perhaps they were simply abandoned. Whatever the reasoning for the disappearance may be, they couldn’t let that stop them from continuing their mission.

An unmarked road led the Fen’harel to an endless field of tall golden blades made even taller by his height. He had to leap above the grass every so often to see where he was going. Every time they fell back to the earth, their cheeks heated up ever so slightly, and they prayed no one saw them.

Much like Garahel, Lullaren couldn’t see above the grass.

Unlike Garahel, they didn’t have the thought to jump and see where they were going. Instead, they had been blindly wandering in a large circle for most of the day, trusting honed instincts to guide them. They really shouldn’t have, because the shadowed youngest of the Dubois line was quite honestly very, very lost. Lullaren gave a faint, huffing wheeze, closing their eyes to pant for a while, before raising their head and trooping onward. It was too hot to be without shade for this long, but Lullaren was too proud to admit they had been at this since morning.

Atchk-

Not to mention the infrequent stumbles from things under their paws they couldn’t see. This one in particular was a dent in the ground, and they caught their paw on the rim of it, unbalanced themself, and ate dirt. Later, they’d blame the heat for the next few moments in time.

Je vais retrouver ta mère, et sa mère, et faire de vous deux des cendres si éloignées l'une de l'autre qu'il faudrait une galaxie entière de gravité pour vous ramener-! Angry tirades were a specialty for the troubadour, who wrenched their paw out of the dent in the dirt, tucked it to their chest, and proceeded to bless out the dent in high pitched, shrieky French.

When he leaped for the hundredth time he spotted an inkling in the golden sea. Too far too see exactly who — or what — they were, but close enough to hear them. 

They spoke (screamed rather) in a tongue not familiar to the squire. It made them wary, and they didn’t know whether or not to turn the other way or continue forward and investigate. Garahel chose neither, staying rooted to the spot and calling, Are you alright?

It was just his luck that the gods they no longer worshiped would stick someone else out here to witness their pitiful failings. Way to go playing the court jester instead of the bard, Lullaren. They smacked a smile on their face, ignoring how it seemed to be more of a pained grimace at their continued state of living when they wanted to be swallowed by the ground for once.

Yes. Apologies for the...horrible shrieking. I know that couldn’t be good to listen to. They tried, pressing the paw that had gotten caught back to the ground and testing their weight on it.

I merely was graced with gravity’s continued presence upon this earth

It’s comforting to know they hadn’t happened upon some sort of murder in progress. Only a stranger directing indecipherable curses at the dirt beneath their feet. Wasn’t much better company, but much preferable over a bloodthirsty criminal.

Horrible? No, it was music to my ears he jests. 

Then he leaps again, getting a better — though brief — look at the stranger. Upon landing, a wave of embarrassment washed over him as he realized how ridiculous he probably looked. 

Er.. let me… Garahel nosed through the dry grass until eventually reaching the inkling. They smiled awkwardly. There. Now I can see you better.

Music to my ears, the stranger says, and Lullaren gives a startled, yet delighted chortle of laughter, a shuddering noise that turns into a trill from their throat, the bard ducking their head for a moment, before raising it again, a smile on narrow features.

I must switch careers, it seems. Mayhap my screeching would be good enough! Their eyes followed the shape rising above the grasses, before it was gone, and a wolf pushed through the bush instead. Lullaren tipped their features to the side, observing, before the grin was back on their features, delighted at the commonality between the two.

It seems we share problems with our verticality. Maybe I should have bounced, might have made it easier to see the hole.

Garahel could only hope his leap had gone unnoticed, but of course it didn’t. Lady luck never took the time to bless them didn’t she? Warm cheeks grew warmer as the stranger acknowledged their laughable attempt to see with a grin. The squire conceals his embarrassment with a grin of their own.

Maybe, they chuckled. It’s hard to see much of anything though. Even with the added height. Curse their small stature. They hadn’t even put much thought into it until they left the island.

What brings you out here?

They catalogued the stranger with mismatched jewel tones, filing their unique appearance away in their head. It wouldn’t do for Lullaren to forget a face, oh no it wouldn’t do at all. The bard shook themselves out briefly, ignoring the twinge of pain that jolted from their ankle at the motion.

Traveling. To where, I am unsure A tiny smile crossed their lips, eyes lapsing closed.

Anywhere and everywhere that will take a bard, I guess. Where the wind pushes, where I fancy for the time. They blinked their eyes back open.

And you? What brings you out here?

They’re a wanderer then? Bound by no rules, no entity, only the wind itself. That life seemed so peaceful. Garahel felt a twinge of envy.

His own reason for being out here was much less simple, though the way he tells them veiled it’s complexity somewhat. 

I’m searching for a friend. He sighed after he answered. And I haven’t the slightest idea where he could be.

Searching for a friend indeed. Lullaren tipped their head to one side, tisking their tongue against the back of their teeth.

Oh dear. That doesn’t sound good. They  said, wincing at the very thought, ears swinging back in an expressive grimace.

I could keep an eye out, if you would like?

The stranger offers to be on the look out for the missing sovereign. If it’s no trouble, I’d appreciate it. His name is Amadis. Small like me and red. He’s hard to miss. 
As he gave the description Garahel felt a sense of hope. Maybe there was a chance the inkling would find Amadis in this vast wilderness. Then maybe their paths would cross again. They’d tell him his whereabouts, he’d locate the lost Elvhen. All would be well again! But that’d be too convient would it?
If you see him tell him Garahel is looking for him.