shatterverse | (no subject)

Entry tags:

edwin dobson,
sky

(no subject)

One moment, Edwin is tearing through the steppes...

...and the next, he (and his horse) find themselves in very unfamiliar territory. Huxley pins his ears back and snorts at the sudden flash, rearing slightly, while Edwin fights to remain in the saddle as he looks around. "A storm?" he asks himself, looking up a sky that seems anything but stormy. He starts as his attention goes to the rest of the landscape-it certainly looks dry enough, but this...isn't Euloria.

His horse, meanwhile, recovers quite a bit more quickly and begins to move along at a quick trot, apparently not bothered by the fact that he's trotting on pavement rather dirt. Edwin just hangs on, still staring at his surroundings, particularly at the sign that he passes by as Huxley continues onwards-Snakewater, Montana - Pop. 21,500.

At least, that's what it says underneath the scratch marks covering the population number. Beside the former number, someone's painted 15.

Edwin is fairly certain that isn't a terribly good omen.

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If she thinks he's small now, she should see in shifted. He's practically punting size then.

"Maybe?" he offers, sounding awkward again. "Spirits aren't my field. I've had them explained to me, but...bones and rock make so much more sense."

"Ah, so you do know us, after all. Or something like us. What do you know about spirits?"

Edwin scratches at the back of his head uncertainly. This is ground he plans to try and tread carefully-he's not eager to give any hints that he's a 'skin. (Even if it is pretty much the best thing ever, in his opinion.)

"Not much. Some of the Eulorian herdsmen have told me stories about them, and the Godsworn speak of demons, of course, but other than that..."

She laughs. "Demons. Oh, bullshit. My world had to deal with demon legends for a while, until people figured out that earth, fire, and shade spirits were really just a little touchy."

He nods as he listens, frowning a bit. "We have skinshifters-people who become animals. The Godsworn say that a demon takes them over and eats their soul."

Edwin sounds just a tad doubtful of this.

"And have you got any evidence your Godsworn are not talking out of their asses?" asks Sky cheerfully.

Well, there's the fact that he doesn't feel particularly demonic, and none of the other skins he met seemed like demons either, but he isn't sure he should say that.

"...No," he says after a moment, looking a bit shifty. He might not want to say his evidence, but that hasn't stopped him from being distracted by the thought.

"Well then."

She appears satisfied.

Change of subject, change of subject...

Aha. Here's one. "So what do air spirits do, exactly?"

"Do? We're spirits. If a human needs something to do with air, they ask us, give us a gift or something, and we help them out. People with sailboats love us, especially."

Edwin nods, looking thoughtful. "That could be hand...though the last time I was on a boat, I was seasick. Are spirits common where you come from?"

He almost feels like he should grab his notebook out a saddlebag and start jotting things down, but that would get in the way of holding onto the reins.

"There's tons of us. Well, sorta. Quite a few, anyway."

"And you said there's air spirits, fire spirits, earth spirits, shade spirits...does everything have a spirit attached to it, or is it mostly..." He pauses, trying to think of the best word. "...elemental?"

"Mostly elemental, yeah, but that's just the major groups. Every so often a spirit comes along who's for something really obscure."

"Like what?" Okay, now he's giving up on hanging onto the reins. He can sit well enough, and he's sure Huxley won't suddenly take off without notice.

Pretty sure, anyway.

Edwin turns in the saddle to fight briefly with a saddlebag near him, pulling out a battered notebook and pencil and beginning to jot what she's said so far down.

"The weirdest one I ever met was probably Red. Blood spirit. Never asked what her blessing did-- seemed impolite-- but she was mute, like ice and earth spirits."

Edwin looks up from his notebook, blinking. "...Blood?"

There's something you don't hear every day.

Cheerful nod. "Mhmm."

"That's...interesting," he says after a moment, unsure of what else to say. He puts the notebook away, while Huxley finally notices that the reins are free.

The horse snorts and tosses his head, suddenly moving into a canter. Walking is boring!

Edwin, meanwhile, is left scrambling to try and grab the reins while still hanging on.

Sky crooks her fingers and blurs out for a moment; obediently, a light breeze picks up and tosses the reins into Edwin's hand. Hey, it's the least she can do.

Edwin grabs hold-don't want to lose them again to butterfingers-and slows the horse back into a walk. Huxley backs his ears and squeals a bit, but otherwise settles back down without much a fuss.

"It's a good think I have hobbles," he says after a moment of thought. "Otherwise he'll be hard to catch when I let him graze."

"Wouldn't know. Not many horses where I come from."

Edwin glances back to her, blinking. "Really? How do you get around, then? They're faster than walking, and it isn't as if you can take a boat everywhere..."

"Me, I float. Everybody else? Cars, these days."

"Cars?" he repeats, looking blank and a more than a little lost.