A story.
#26151

A slow summer drizzle caresses his armour, tired eyes gaze aimlessly through the misty shower.


Deep wells of intensity and rage that sit above a crooked nose and lined, scarred, face.


He is a Warrior born, strength, power, fury, beat within his chest; yet there is something missing, something sad about him, his erect stoic posture cannot hide the deep loneliness surrounding him.


He stands next his steed, pure muscle and mystical strength, the protective nature of this fantastical creature evident in the way it stands next to him shielding him as best it can from the rain and the wind.


\"Today is just another day, my friend, another recruit to train, I hear whispers from the light that she is worthy to be taught. \" The man says in a gravely voice.


The Unicorn snorts in derision. \"Now, Now\" He say's stroking it's powerful flanks, \"We'll give her a chance, she will probably be a giggle girl though. \" He sighs despondently and continues to wait.


The beautiful creatures ears perk up and he bobs his handsome head towards the right of the road, towards the practice field. The Warriors eyes widen a bit in surprise as he notices a lone magess swinging her staff about dancing mystical rituals of power. She is grace incarnate, bare legs flashing from under robes as she flows from dance to dance. He cannot help but admire her movements, and he cannot help but notice she is not taking advantage of dancing multiple rituals from the same sketch.


He starts to walk towards her, dangerous wolf like grace evident in his stride.


The young magess must have heard him approaching, she turns and as she does so the hood of her cloak drops, and she flashes him a smile, he stops in his tracks, feeling hit harder than when the high-priest of Darkness double jabbed him. She was beautiful. \"Are you my teacher? My name is Aster, hi! \" She says in a chipper voice that would have usually made the Warrior dismiss the student from thought. There was something... special, about this one.


\"Lets get started Aster, my time is limited and I have none of it to spare on frivolous causes\" He gruffly states. \"Then i hope not to waste your time!

\" Aster exclaims with a crooked smile.


The cheek of some people, no?


The Warrior walked the magess through some exercises explaining basic fundamentals, she had an incredibly nimble mind, learned everything the first time it was taught. Her ability to grasp new concepts was astounding, and the alacrity with which she understood combat flow was nothing short of amazing, he started to think she was an old soul in a new body.


As his mind started to doubt the storm broke and he looked down upon her deep blue eyes, and saw only earnest willingness to learn, intellect, and a kindness beyond anything he had since then experienced. A ray of light broke through the clouds and illuminated her face, disheveled wet hair framing her perfect face. The old warrior, before even he knew what he was doing, lifts a calloused hand and brushes aside a strand. He finishes the gesture and he is frozen by it, hand raised to her face, she smiles

bashfully at him. \"What is happening to me\" he thinks.


The warrior spins on his heal, and begins to stride away, embarrassed that such old and ugly hands would have the temerity to touch young beautiful skin. \"Today's Lesson is over young one, take my teachings to heart, you did well\".


The mystical unicorn nuzzles her before turning to leave and follow his friend.


The Warrior does not look back but the image of her face as the sunlight kissed it will be seared into his mind forever. \"You are cheating. \" He grumbles as his eyes flick to the sky for an instant. He hears laughter ringing in his mind like silver bells on a sun-drenched winter morning.


A fissure,streaks that which has been till that time unbreakable. A crack in the iron will of a warrior 350 years old. It is a thing he never thought would happen, a thing, only beautiful Aster could inspire.


He mounts his steed, and gallops back to his city, urging THE BEAST faster attempting to run away from that which has no escape, from that which he cannot fight.


It is the dawn of a new day, for an old heart.


Written by my hand on the 9th of Midwinter, in the year 1308.