04-06-2020, 05:52 PM
Wind rippled over the endless expanse of grass, the seedheads bowing in sibilant waves. Jhasato stood upon a small rise, watching as an enormous group of riders thundered towards him. They were Dothraki, by their dress and riding style, though their faces were obscured by dust and the haze of heat. The man at the head of the khalasar pulled his horse to a stop before Jhasato. Without a word, the stranger placed a closed fist to his chest and gave a nod. They had not been coming for Jhasato; they were coming for Jhasato.
In a flash, he was astride his steed, a brilliant chestnut stallion as fiery as his own spirit, leading his warriors across the great grass sea. Outlying settlements fell before their might, the screams of their prey ringing in Jhasato's ears like music. He galloped through the now-burning ruins of the village, leaping through the flames, cutting down any who still stood to fight. A thatched roof nearby collapsed from the fire, causing a female voice to cry out from within. He leapt from his mount and shouldered his way through the debris; no sense letting a potential slave burn to death. A weak cough came from a pile of smoldering wood. Jhasato lifted a post, nearly dropping it again as he uncovered a familiar blue and purple wing. The little sylph's words were muffled, distorted, though pained as he lifted her free and held her to his chest. A crack of splintering wood came from above; he shielded her with his body as best he could, burning thatch and timbers crashing down atop them...
---
Jhasato woke as a wet clump of hay plopped onto his face. He opened one bleary eye to regard the cow standing over him, curious of her pasture's newest addition. The first fingers of dawn were only just streaming over the horizon - was the sun always that bright? - and a breeze rustled the grass around him, sounding for all the world like the Great Dothraki Sea of his homeland.
He bolted upright, causing his head to reel and startling the cow into grazing elsewhere. Where was his horse? More importantly, had he fallen? But no, his horse was grazing peacefully nearby, and the hides and fur that served as his saddle were folded upon a nearby rock. A mostly-empty bottle leaned haphazardly against the rock. Jhasato didn't know the name of the clear liquid that burned all the way down, but he knew he'd never woken in a strange field after a night of drinking lamekh.
He lay back once more, hands over his eyes as his thoughts, well, stumbled over one another more than raced. His dream had felt so real, so much like his life before, when he rode wild and free with his khalasar. So unlike now, when his world involved bringing horses to town for others, tavern gatherings (which weren't too bad, he had to admit), and - he groaned aloud - diplomacy. He lifted one hand to regard the cow, still grazing. How different it was from the great beasts that roamed the moors to the south, their horns curved and sharp as any arakh to fend off the bird-women who hunted there. He turned his gaze downward, to the slight tummy forming, and poked it with a finger. Perhaps he was becoming like this creature. Slow, fat, complacent. Domesticated.
He rolled to his feet, nearly retching as his stomach protested the movement. Collecting his saddle and his horse, Jhasato trudged the short distance to where the buildings turned to sandstone, where he had carved out a living in this strange world. He closed the heavy wood door, the four stone walls instantly pressing in around him. A flash of purple and blue caught his eye; Nova had immediately noticed his return and flitted down the ladder, diving at him and shifting in midair to take human form. He caught her, easily, even 'bigger' she was still tiny, and held her close.
"Where were you?" she asked, pulling back to look him over for any visible injuries "...gone all night...so worried..." He let her fuss over him for but a moment before sweeping her into a warm embrace, kissing her forehead before propping his chin atop her head.
"Anha re-...sleep mra field. San ohazho...many drink." She tensed at his words but nodded, resting her cheek against his chest. He could feel the tightness of her shoulders relax in his hands. "Kisha sleep proper ajjin?" Another nod from her, and he scooped her against him in one arm. She clung to him as he scaled the ladder to the sleeping quarters. Domestication, it occurred to him, wasn't always a terrible thing, necessarily. Tame creatures had others looking out for them, after all. But beyond the arched stone windows, the wind still whispered through the grasses, calling to him.
In a flash, he was astride his steed, a brilliant chestnut stallion as fiery as his own spirit, leading his warriors across the great grass sea. Outlying settlements fell before their might, the screams of their prey ringing in Jhasato's ears like music. He galloped through the now-burning ruins of the village, leaping through the flames, cutting down any who still stood to fight. A thatched roof nearby collapsed from the fire, causing a female voice to cry out from within. He leapt from his mount and shouldered his way through the debris; no sense letting a potential slave burn to death. A weak cough came from a pile of smoldering wood. Jhasato lifted a post, nearly dropping it again as he uncovered a familiar blue and purple wing. The little sylph's words were muffled, distorted, though pained as he lifted her free and held her to his chest. A crack of splintering wood came from above; he shielded her with his body as best he could, burning thatch and timbers crashing down atop them...
---
Jhasato woke as a wet clump of hay plopped onto his face. He opened one bleary eye to regard the cow standing over him, curious of her pasture's newest addition. The first fingers of dawn were only just streaming over the horizon - was the sun always that bright? - and a breeze rustled the grass around him, sounding for all the world like the Great Dothraki Sea of his homeland.
He bolted upright, causing his head to reel and startling the cow into grazing elsewhere. Where was his horse? More importantly, had he fallen? But no, his horse was grazing peacefully nearby, and the hides and fur that served as his saddle were folded upon a nearby rock. A mostly-empty bottle leaned haphazardly against the rock. Jhasato didn't know the name of the clear liquid that burned all the way down, but he knew he'd never woken in a strange field after a night of drinking lamekh.
He lay back once more, hands over his eyes as his thoughts, well, stumbled over one another more than raced. His dream had felt so real, so much like his life before, when he rode wild and free with his khalasar. So unlike now, when his world involved bringing horses to town for others, tavern gatherings (which weren't too bad, he had to admit), and - he groaned aloud - diplomacy. He lifted one hand to regard the cow, still grazing. How different it was from the great beasts that roamed the moors to the south, their horns curved and sharp as any arakh to fend off the bird-women who hunted there. He turned his gaze downward, to the slight tummy forming, and poked it with a finger. Perhaps he was becoming like this creature. Slow, fat, complacent. Domesticated.
He rolled to his feet, nearly retching as his stomach protested the movement. Collecting his saddle and his horse, Jhasato trudged the short distance to where the buildings turned to sandstone, where he had carved out a living in this strange world. He closed the heavy wood door, the four stone walls instantly pressing in around him. A flash of purple and blue caught his eye; Nova had immediately noticed his return and flitted down the ladder, diving at him and shifting in midair to take human form. He caught her, easily, even 'bigger' she was still tiny, and held her close.
"Where were you?" she asked, pulling back to look him over for any visible injuries "...gone all night...so worried..." He let her fuss over him for but a moment before sweeping her into a warm embrace, kissing her forehead before propping his chin atop her head.
"Anha re-...sleep mra field. San ohazho...many drink." She tensed at his words but nodded, resting her cheek against his chest. He could feel the tightness of her shoulders relax in his hands. "Kisha sleep proper ajjin?" Another nod from her, and he scooped her against him in one arm. She clung to him as he scaled the ladder to the sleeping quarters. Domestication, it occurred to him, wasn't always a terrible thing, necessarily. Tame creatures had others looking out for them, after all. But beyond the arched stone windows, the wind still whispered through the grasses, calling to him.
![[Image: Raewyn-Signiture.jpg]](https://i.ibb.co/T1hxSd2/Raewyn-Signiture.jpg)