{Loril} SOMETIMES IM MISERABLE

[Keagan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 497px; height: 700px; background-image:url(http://i138.photobucket.com/albums/q243/cdvs/keagantable.png)] For once, the sun was shining brightly across the lands, something that had become a rare sight to hold during the chilling months. The birds quietly chirped as the nestled in the warming rays of the sun, attempting to grasp as much of the golden rays as they could before the burning orb went and hid itself once more. Against the water, the glorious sunlight made the rushing water sparkle like dew drops on a spider's web. It was a sight that was lovely to simply stare at to enjoy it, but that wasn't something Keagan was so interested in at the moment. Standing near the edge of the river, the large stag stared blankly across the rushing waters, his mind lost with the wind. He deep brown coat ruffled faintly as the winter winds blew pass, but he hardly gave any notice of it. No, these winters were nothing like the ones he had been put through in his homeland. The mountains and forests would always be home to him no matter where he was now. He missed the scents of the alder and ash trees that would fill the air. He missed the companionship he had with his herd and the does that he had grown to care for. There were some, yes, that he knew little of and cared even little about, but then there were others whom he had built a bond with. With a flick of his ear, his heart yearned to return to the glorious hills of Scotland where he had been bred, silently praying to Herne to one day lead him to his home once more.

[Loril]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 495px; height: 700px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/DA3Ky.png)] A nice, quiet, lovely day. That was just what they needed here in the Menagerie. The winter had been hard, and though she was used to the snow that often pelted her with icy prickles, Loril was also used to having someone pitch hay and oats for her when the natural pastures began to die out. So this scavenging under the snow was all so new, and not something she particularly enjoyed. That was, in fact, what she was doing now. Taking advantage of the sunshine and a burst of warmth, the mare was making her way down the riverside, crunching as dried, brittle blades of grass. They weren't nearly as good as the juicy apples and nice green shoots during the summer, but the stopped the gnawing pain in her belly. For now, that was enough. She'd discovered some weeks ago that the grass by the river, fed by the rushing water and a bit less likely to freeze over, was often the tastiest to be found. So here she was. As intent as she was on finding a decent meal, and as still as he'd been standing, Loril didn't even notice that she'd stumbled across someone else until they'd come into view. The sudden splotch of red startled her, and before she even realized what she was doing the horse backed up a few paces. But then she caught herself, and forced herself to stand still. How was she ever supposed to do her job if she balked at every opportunity to integrate herself into the herd? It took several seconds of arguing with her own mind -- after all, the deer did look very busy over there -- to convince Loril to move her hooves forward again. When she got close enough, she gave a hesitant snort and tossed her mane. "Nice day out, isn't it?" Brilliant, sparkling conversation there, Loril. Perhaps you should comment on that wisp of cloud over there next.

[Keagan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 497px; height: 700px; background-image:url(http://i138.photobucket.com/albums/q243/cdvs/keagantable.png)] Despite the fact that the large, red-furred stag had been lost in thought, his senses remained alert. Living in Scotland, while peaceful at times, wasn't always the safest place to be. Wolves still lived amongst the trees, though many of them had been hunted by man. But, they were still a threat, especially for the fawns and does. Not to mention, man was also a threat to his kind, bringing with them their lightning sticks that spat fire and metal. That was why ever herla was taught how to stay alert since the minute they were born into the world. It was a dangerous place to live in even with Herne watching over them. But, Keagan also held something of an advantage as well. His experience with the white-coated beings and their metal tools had given him something of a gift in a way. Though, being called a gift could be greatly debated. The red deer had the ability to read or sense another being's mind. At times he could turn off the 'switch' that kept his mind open to others thoughts, but there were others where he could do nothing to stop the countless thoughts from rushing into his own mind. Thankfully this was a time where he had a greater grasp over the magical ability, his mind closed off to the thoughts of the creatures that surrounded him. But, he could still sense the presence of each and every one of them. For a time, he paid little attention to such senses that prickled his thoughts in the back of his mind, but when a new mind came into his reach, the retro jerked himself out of his thoughts, his ears twitching back. He could hear the sharp, crisp crunch of the snow as it was crushed from the weight of the new comer. For a moment, he allowed his mental barriers to fall, reaching out to the female that seemed to be keeping her distance. A faint chuckle left his throat as he sensed her nervous thoughts that ran through her mind. He didn't go as far as trying to decipher them, though. He respected everyone's privacy and would never invade their minds to hear their thoughts. Despite the fact that he was well aware of her presence, Keagan kept his gaze forward, his ears pressing forward and standing erect once more. He patiently waited for her to approach him, only then acknowledging her once she had been ready for it. Smiling softly, he gently bowed his head in a silent greeting, listening as she spoke. "Mmm, yes. Herne has blessed us with a shimmer of hope in these cold months,", he said, lifting his head faintly as he gazed up at the sun that was peeking out from behind the clouds.

[Loril]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 495px; height: 700px; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/DA3Ky.png)] Well, he didn't seem too terribly bothered by her interruption, that was a relief. Loril gave a soft sign as she released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, bending her neck to take a few cold, refreshing sips from the arctic river. It was no substitute for a good feed, but when wasn't a cold crisp drink a delight? A shake of her mane had any clinging droplets falling back to where they had come from, and the mare turned her attention back to the creature beside her. She vaguely remembered sharing pastures with animals such as these. Herla, the herd had called them, though she often heard the Little Master complaining of the deer that chewed up his fertile pasture land. Of course, that had been many, many moons ago, and her memory of them was colored by the mind of a young foal. Still, something he had said had pricked her memory. The mares and stallions lifting their heads and neighing to their thanks to the night sky. They had admonished the younglings who had laughed at them, mocking their elders for thanking an invisible god for keeping them safe. Loril had never paid much attention, and had been pulled away by the scientists before she had grown old enough to understand, but the name she did remember. Herne. "You know of the Herla god?" she asked the deer curiously. It was the first mention of the god that she had heard since being dropped in the dome, and she had thought that it was just her local herd's superstition. But here she had stumbled across someone else who invoked the name and spoke it with as much reverence as it had been in her memory. So maybe there was more to it than simple myth. "It is comforting to hear the name uttered so often in my birth herd spoken once again."

[Keagan]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 497px; height: 700px; background-image:url(http://i138.photobucket.com/albums/q243/cdvs/keagantable.png)] Although his direct focus was not fully on the mare that stood beside him, Keagan watched her motions out of the corner of his eye while his mind continued to graze over the surface of her own. It was not something he was purposely attempting to do, but he had little control over such simple outreaches of his mind. He could feel the remaining nervousness leave her, which brought something of his own relief as well. He was never one who enjoyed the uncomforts of others, always trying to make them feel welcomed no matter who they were. It was something his father had taught him at a young age and he treasured his lesson just as he did with all the others his father gave him. It went without saying that the red deer had greatly respected his father and had looked up to him more than anyone else. He had been what had taught him of the laws and grace of Herne, he had shown him the ways of the Lera and how to respect the ways of others. Lessons that he knew he would pass on to his own offspring if they held the same power as he did. Lowering his head for a moment, his deep brown eyes closing for a time as he briefly wondered how much longer the winter would last, his ears jerked a bit towards Loril as she spoke, mentioning the name of his kind and of the god that watched over them all. "Why, of course. Any Herla born of the trees and grass would know of Herne," he said smoothly, turning his head to gaze at the female. "But, I find it surprising myself that a Lera would know of his name. I did not believe that your kind followed such faiths." Indeed he was quite interested in this news. Herne was the god of the Herla, the protector of the hoofed creatures of his land. But, he was not aware of what the Man-carrying Lera worshiped themselves. Keagan was familiar with the different gods of the world that the other Lera worshiped. He had heard of such from other beings such as a wolf he had met before he had been taken that had spoken the same language as his own just as the others in this foreign land did. She had told him of their mating gods Fenris and Tor whom had created the earth and the creatures upon it. Keagan himself did not fully believe in such power beyond Herne himself, but he respected the canine's belief as he did with many others. Their gods were their own whether they were right or not. It was not him to judge them. With his head lightly tilted to the side, observing Loril for a moment, the retro wondered how it was she managed to learn of such a name. There were indeed many possible ways that she could know of the great Herne, but which one was unknown to him. And, he was curious if she only knew of the name or truly believed in the gracious god of his kind.