[PRP] things that go bump in the night (Yeon-Ah & Moriarty)

[`raze]

Her dad wasn't necessarily discreet when he asked her when she would be leaving the nest. He wasn't rude about it by any means, but he always lacked tact. Before settling down he was a traveler and from what she gathered a bit of a casanova and she wondered if he expected the same from his children. Yeon-Ah had not given much thought to traveling alone until after their most recent conversation about visiting her great-grandmother Cosette in the mountains. She knew this was him nudging her out for some alone time with her mother and she did not have it in her to fight it. Yeon-Ah knew her father loved her, and part of that was weaning her from the place she had grown up.

She had taken off that morning after saying her good byes and promises of returning. She dutifully followed the tips Ishmael had given her - start off walking, when that tires you fly, and when that tires you get back on your hooves. After 3 cycles of this and the sun starting to set, Yeon-Ah decided it was time for a water break. She was so determined to make good coverage her first day traveling that she didn't think much to eating or drinking. The realization made her throat dry.

She landed a bit less gracefully than she intended, stumbling a bit forward. She had not seen anyone when she spotted the pond, but she hid behind her bangs embarressed at her landing.  

[Summer Raaven]

It had been quite some time since he left the care of his parent's watchful eye in favor of a more....nomadic lifestyle. Well aware that he had a home and a comfort to turn to whenever he needed it, Moriarty preferred to let the world be his playground. His parents were both unusual creatures who had found their life's mate in each other, and they had taken to settling and starting a family - which was fair, as that was the natural course of life, was it not? Moriarty recognized his parents were not all that different from the standard life, however eccentric they both were, and he appreciated all that they had given him and taught him in his foalhood. They understood that their son needed to express himself as an individual, and so they supported him when he had decided to take off on his own. No questions asked. Just an outpouring of support and love, with a promise that he'd be welcomed whenever he felt the need to return.

Months and months of solitude, Moriarty kept to the depths of the forest, ever silent and ever watching the shadows as they danced. Occasionally he'd run into another Soquili or creature, and either he'd scare them away, or he'd recognize their unsettling presence and leave them alone. Things got less....cheerful, at night, and Moriarty was the first to admit that sometimes even he was out of his element. He was learning, though, to adapt to his surroundings, and eventually found himself becoming one of those creatures. His eyes that glowed in the shadows, and his voice as deep as drums, he knew that to any random passer-by, he was creepy. And he started to enjoy it. Their shudders, their hitched breath - it was all very fascinating.

He'd never come out of the shadows when he played, however - he didn't want to break the illusion. He wasn't a killer - wasn't a threat, he just enjoyed the idea that he came off that way. In revealing himself, one would quickly realize that he was simply just strange. Not murderous. Just....strange.

The sun had started to set on this particular evening, and Moriarty was making his way through a thicker part of the forest towards a more open space on the outer edge. A loud scraping against a tree could be heard, followed by silence for a moment or two, and then the scraping picked back up again. Knife in mouth, he was currently tracking his steps against the trees as he walked, letting his future self know he had already been here - had already explored this area and to move somewhere else for next time. Tonight, he'd have his fun with whatever was here.

Scrape, light hoofsteps, scrape, light hoofsteps, as a pond came into view. Then a thud, as a figure landed near the pond. He could make out the figure of a mare, as his eyes twinkled.

"Interesting," he spoke, muffled by the knife held firmly in his mouth.

`raze