[PRP] Cursed night (Caspar and Toscana)

[Revolutionary Roniel]

Caspar paced back and forth. Some nights were like this. Some nights he just knew it was near, the owner of the Monstrous Voice. It had been some time since he had called upon it for a favor. It grew restless when he waited too long, he thought. There would be rustlings in the wind, whispers in the trees. He felt like an idiot for being so worried, and yet, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He'd seen a dead fawn at the start of the night, perfect and beautiful, but disembowled in almost artful brutality.

It was the Voice. It had to be. It was a warning of what would happen to him should he spurn the favors he'd been so "graciously" bestowed. Originally, those favors had felt like a great power to him. Now, he wasn't so sure. They were starting to seem like a curse more than anything.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

It was later than Toscana had intended staying out that night. The moon arced overhead in a near perfect circle. It was cool, and a breeze that rustled through her mane spoke of roads yet untraveled. It was a beautiful night to be out, but she was ready to be home. Her family waited for her, and she knew they'd be worried.

She bit back a sigh as she trotted down the path. She'd meant to be home hours ago, but her usual path had been washed away, probably in a recent storm. She hadn't expected that.

Her muzzle crinkled in a wide yawn. She was more tired than she realized. Tired enough that she was imagining things, like seeing eyes in the light that glistened off leaves.

Or.... She paused, and her breath caught in her throat. Maybe those were eyes, glowing softly green. She couldn't find words, but just stared at the other soquili that emerged from the darkness.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

Just when he didn't want to see anyone, there someone was. A growl caught deep in Caspar's throat when the mare came around the bend. There was part of his nature that was as feral as his father's. He didn't think he really had much of his mother in him.

"Keep moving," he muttered, eyes locked on the mare. She was very beautiful in her own way. Where he had wings sprouting from his back, she had just the pattern of feathers. They continued up her neck to make a mask upon her face. It was striking, and he momentarily forgot his hostility.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

Toscana had never met another soquili like him. For one thing, he had so many wings. She'd thought that angeni had four wings. This stallion had six. His wings, and those adorning his legs and head, spoke of an angeni heritage, yet his ears, paws, and tail were those of a beast. She stared at him, frank curiosity gripping her. What strange pairing had produced someone like him?

He was telling her to leave, but she saw him hesitate after he spoke. She knew she should leave, but something in her made her stay put.

"Good evening," she said, even though it was the dead of night. "Sorry, I'm just passing through. My usual path was washed away." She smiled, chagrined. Maybe this was his home and she was trespassing.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

"The storm, right?" He remembered those howling winds that had kept him grounded for an entire day and night. The shelter he had chosen was not as strong as he'd hoped, and he'd been wet and windblown before the storm had been done. At least it had kept the Voice away. Not even it could travel in that sort of weather.

Belatedly, he realized he was talking to her. He had been trying to chase her off, but apparently that wasn't happening. He was still in a bad mood, but was having a hard time feeling aggravated at the intrusion. She really was very very lovely, after all.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

Toscana felt herself relax. She'd been right. He wasn't a bad soquili, he was just having a bad day. Her father could get like that sometimes, and he never really meant to cause anyone harm. "I think so," she replied. "It was there just a week ago, but now it's gone." She sighed, her nose crinkling with chagrin. She should have planned this jaunt a little better, it seemed.

"My name is Toscana." It seemed like about the point in the conversation where she ought to introduce herself, and so she did.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

"I'm Caspar," he responded. "It's a pleasure to meet you." That pleasant greeting he got from his mother. He didn't usually stand on ceremony when meeting a stranger in the middle of nowhere, but given his initially rough reaction to her, it seemed somewhat appropriate.

"You had better be careful." Spontaneously, he added a warning to his greeting. "There are some bad things around here." Bad things, or bad people? He didn't really know.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

Now this was news to her. Toscana cocked her head slightly. "Bad things? You mean... something dangerous?" Could there be a pack of aggressive wolves about, or maybe a human tribe looking for slaves? She was starting to wonder if it might be a better idea to just find somewhere that looked safe and wait there until morning.

Besides that, the idea of a lurking threat troubled her. They really weren't that far from her family, and anything that might be dangerous here could very easily move a little and threaten them at their home.  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

He wondered if he should count himself on the list of "bad things." He didn't really deal much in guilt or self-loathing, but had a hard time counting himself among the goodguys.

"It's hard to explain," he replied, knowing how weak the answer was. How was he supposed to tell her that he was being haunted by a voice and its owner, an owner that sometimes killed things for sport to help him remember it was still there? Looking at the mare, he made a decision before he even realized he was considering it. He had to see her back safe, or he'd wonder if he'd see her corpse in the morning.

"But I can take you where you're going."  

[Revolutionary Roniel]

Now that she was a little creeped out, she liked that idea more than she wanted to admit. Caspar was a little spooky himself, but he was shaping up to seem like a fairly decent stallion. She stole a glance to the green fire that circled his back legs like anklets. Maybe on their walk, she could find out a little more about him too.

"I'd like that," she said warmly.