Eathos loves being at the fair. Spending time telling stories to foals, making them smile, lightens his heavy heart.
He had a love, when he was young. The filly and he had grown up not far from each other. Maybe it had been simple infatuation, a childhood crush. But he would never know. A wildfire sparked in the field between their families and the winds blew the flames into a roaring monster eating all life in its path.
Eathos was heartbroken. It took him years to recover, to learn to love again. But the mare he settled down with, who carried his unborn children, died of a wasting sickness while her body was already taxed with pregnancy.
Eathos knew he would never love again. He was careful, so careful, when it came to mares. He wouldn't allow himself fall for anyone so delicate again. But still he needed companionship, a sop to his wounded heart.
He joined the guards, trained to fight, to protect. Maybe he would never love again, but he could help keep safe those who did. It was a subtle thing, falling in love again. The stallion he fought beside, trained with. The one who heard his tears and cared for his heart's wounds. Eathos wasn't ever sure when the feelings became more than companionship. But the other stallion only laughed, happy Eathos finally saw the love being offered.
He let himself love, thinking nothing could overcome this warrior. But he was wrong again. When skinwalkers attacked his love was struck a fatal blow defending the herd's foals. But he didn't die right away. He made Eathos promise not to lock his heart away again. A bitter promise, but as a matter of honor, his word he would keep.
But he could love without loving. Eathos resolved that it was the foals his lover had died to protect that would hold his heart, the little bit he still allowed the world to touch him.
So he started watching over them, playing with them, and letting them give him some measure of joy. It was their clamouring for stories that set his life's path. He found that he loved to paint picture with words, so see their reactions to drama, and make them laugh.
As they grew older, Eathos no longer fit in their lives, but he knew his calling. His friend, Lolkoi, convinced him to travel, to see the world. For a time it was only the two of them, occasionally stopping to brighten someone's day with a story, but mostly just Eathos finding a new peace.
Lolkoi made Eathos a journal, something to keep his memories, his joy, so he would not forget the happy times if ever tragedy struck again. Eathos found it hard to put his own thoughts in the book, though he pressed a flower that was the favorit of his childhood sweetheart, painstakingly drew the view of a sunset the mare would have loved, and added the tea he knew his warrior would have loved to the cord of the book. Lolkoi chivvied him into adding a few more things, the otter even added a few himself.
Then came the day a foal asked about the book, about some of the things in it. It was too personal, too painful, to give the truths to such a young mind. So Eathos wove a story. The foal's mother thought it was beautiful, but could see the sadness behind Eathos' eyes and asked if she could add to his journal. She was an artist and painted a picture of the bright joy on her foal's face, wanting to put something happy in the stranger's book. So a new tradition was born. Eathos would get pictures for his book from those he passed in return for telling stories from its pages.
For some time he traveled like this until Lolkoi heard of the Lapsang Fair. Lolkoi, not having had such tragedies, was quite the lady's otter and two of his 'special friends' were going to be traveling with the troop/herd. It took some time to convince Eathos, who was still afraid to spend enough time with anyone who might win his heart. But it was the promise of foals to tell his stories to, to win smiles from, that convinced him.
So Eathos has been traveling with the fair long enough he is comfortable and has relaxed enough to form friendships. But he is still aloof and skittish around anyone flirty or too outgoing. However, he has found a new contentment, his own quiet joy. It may not be the family and love he thought he would have when he was younger, but Eathos realized that here he did have a kind of family. And for him, a quiet happiness.
LydaLynn
LydaLynn
Nebula Dragon
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LydaLynn
LydaLynn
Nebula Dragon
Offline
Posted: Thu Jan 07, 2016 3:23 pm
~ Reserved ~
Posted: Thu Jan 07, 2016 3:23 pm
For those interested:
Quote:
I love the journal! I was already inclined to make him a storyteller. The journal just makes it sure. I'm actually thinking the journal is sort of a story seed. Some pages have pressed flowers, others have art. A few he put in, special things he wanted to remember, but since the process is slow (with teeth probably), he doesn't do that often. Most of his journal is made up of pieces from artist he's met. Well . . . Not always artists, sometimes just those who want to create on a page. Then, when he goes to tell his stories, he invites a few audience members up, usually foals, to pick a picture each (no more than four). He then tells a story that encompases elements from all the pictures chosen.
Eathos loves being at the fair. Spending time telling stories to foals, making them smile, lightens his heavy heart.
He had a love, when he was young. The filly and he had grown up not far from each other. Maybe it had been simple infatuation, a childhood crush. But he would never know. A wildfire sparked in the field between their families and the winds blew the flames into a roaring monster eating all life in its path.
Eathos was heartbroken. It took him years to recover, to learn to love again. But the mare he settled down with, who carried his unborn children, died of a wasting sickness while her body was already taxed with pregnancy.
Eathos knew he would never love again. He was careful, so careful, when it came to mares. He wouldn't allow himself fall for anyone so delicate again. But still he needed companionship, a sop to his wounded heart.
He joined the guards, trained to fight, to protect. Maybe he would never love again, but he could help keep safe those who did. It was a subtle thing, falling in love again. The stallion he fought beside, trained with. The one who heard his tears and cared for his heart's wounds. Eathos wasn't ever sure when the feelings became more than companionship. But the other stallion only laughed, happy Eathos finally saw the love being offered.
He let himself love, thinking nothing could overcome this warrior. But he was wrong again. When skinwalkers attacked his love was struck a fatal blow defending the herd's foals. But he didn't die right away. He made Eathos promise not to lock his heart away again. A bitter promise, but as a matter of honor, his word he would keep.
But he could love without loving. Eathos resolved that it was the foals his lover had died to protect that would hold his heart, the little bit he still allowed the world to touch him.
So he started watching over them, playing with them, and letting them give him some measure of joy. It was their clamouring for stories that set his life's path. He found that he loved to paint picture with words, so see their reactions to drama, and make them laugh.
As they grew older, Eathos no longer fit in their lives, but he knew his calling. His friend, Lolkoi, convinced him to travel, to see the world. For a time it was only the two of them, occasionally stopping to brighten someone's day with a story, but mostly just Eathos finding a new peace.
Lolkoi made Eathos a journal, something to keep his memories, his joy, so he would not forget the happy times if ever tragedy struck again. Eathos found it hard to put his own thoughts in the book, though he pressed a flower that was the favorit of his childhood sweetheart, painstakingly drew the view of a sunset the mare would have loved, and added the tea he knew his warrior would have loved to the cord of the book. Lolkoi chivvied him into adding a few more things, the otter even added a few himself.
Then came the day a foal asked about the book, about some of the things in it. It was too personal, too painful, to give the truths to such a young mind. So Eathos wove a story. The foal's mother thought it was beautiful, but could see the sadness behind Eathos' eyes and asked if she could add to his journal. She was an artist and painted a picture of the bright joy on her foal's face, wanting to put something happy in the stranger's book. So a new tradition was born. Eathos would get pictures for his book from those he passed in return for telling stories from its pages.
For some time he traveled like this until Lolkoi heard of the Lapsang Fair. Lolkoi, not having had such tragedies, was quite the lady's otter and two of his 'special friends' were going to be traveling with the troop/herd. It took some time to convince Eathos, who was still afraid to spend enough time with anyone who might win his heart. But it was the promise of foals to tell his stories to, to win smiles from, that convinced him.
So Eathos has been traveling with the fair long enough he is comfortable and has relaxed enough to form friendships. But he is still aloof and skittish around anyone flirty or too outgoing. However, he has found a new contentment, his own quiet joy. It may not be the family and love he thought he would have when he was younger, but Eathos realized that here he did have a kind of family. And for him, a quiet happiness.
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