Desreal: Rowan;

"There was a barber and his wife, and she was beautiful...
A foolish barber and his wife.
She was his reason and his life, And she was beautiful....”
A flash of amber and gold, sure as fire. Well, sure enough, because that's what it was. Fire. A blaze high among the sky. Like some hell-wrought torch to come unto the mountains. The heavy scent of sulfur reaches you, and perhaps you fear. Perhaps you yearn only to be away from this place. But sure enough something holds you fast, or else you would not have seen him. Who?

A stallion. Burning against the night sky. Defying all that was the peace and tranquility of darkness. There are flames instead of tresses of hair, embers where hooves should have been. The eyes are a smoldering gold, brilliant from the now muted tone of red pelt. With him travels a bird, but not like those we see every day. No, this is Andraste, thus far the only phoenix to grace the Element. Her beauty made the stallion's handsomeness humble. She made the passionate steps that he took seem crude. Some would recall her. Back then she had been Caoimhe.

It was clear from his scars and stature that he was not young. My fire-stallion was aged, though somehow preserved by the element. It was unclear just how old he was, because his eyes contradicted his body, which was still young. Muscles and scars made it questionable as to his path as scholar. Truth be told, if you simply asked of them he would herald you with tales of when he once proudly proclaimed himself a warrior. But those days were past him, and wisdom had settled his strength where his fire could not. The eyes were what told you really the extent of him, that his knowledge knew no bounds, that his eyes had seen the world and more. Nicodemus was a rather peculiar sort of horse.

Somehow the stallion had made his way to you before you could even process how. The speed of fires was often surprising. Nicodemus' eyes are away, his cheek facing you as though he is simply ignoring you. But there was a purpose to his walk tonight. There is reason where for most he had no real meaning. It is Andraste who's eyes bear into your soul, and perhaps the intensity there made you wish that Nicodemus had chosen to watch you from afar. Her eyes are unlike that of other birds, because they are impossibly intelligent and expressive. It was easy to hear her, though she spoke not a single word.

Nicodemus breaks the silence with the lick of his flames. “Who are you?” It is simple, though the simplest of phrases often held a thousand meanings. His eyes awaken, and his fire is fierce.

Picture © Romance
Quote © Sweeney Todd