[Introduction] Through the Redhorn Gate

[silvercrowned]

The mountain thrusts up before them like a knife: its peak is silver with ice and sunlight, but the lower slopes are the dull red of dried bloodstains. The path runs before them, narrow and twisting and treacherous, the climb up the steep mountainside sends the horses struggling and sliding toward the darkness beyond the cliff. Snow dusts the

Comments

[misborncat]

He moves quietly, as any normal cat would (though perhaps not as quietly as an elf?), towards the fallen person. Asato is curious and a bit worried about the stranger. He doesn't like to see people hurt, but he hesitates to reach out.

Instead, he crouches nearby and sniffs, searching for signs of wounds greater than the simply visible ones.

[silvercrowned]

She would look up at some point, try to make out her surroundings - this is not Caradhras, and she has not been returned to Imladris, the very air is different, nor is this Lothlórien.

"Well met?" The words come hesitantly, and testing herself for broken bones she tries to move limbs and her body, and finding herself capable of sitting up, she does so.

[misborncat]

Asato moves to offer his help, if she needs it. "Hello," he says. "Try not to move too much. You look hurt." Of course he'll be worried about a stranger.

[silvercrowned]

"Merely shaken, it is nothing much. Say, have you seen any --" but his looks give her pause now that she finally takes them in, the dark skin less than the ears and tail "-- alike to me nearby, or have I strayed far from my people?"

'What new mischief is this,' she wants to ask, but doesn't. It would, perhaps, be unkind to someone who seeks to help, and the rest of the mystery she may solve later.

[misborncat]

He tilts his head and looks her over before nodding. "I've seen many that look like you," he says. "You're far from home though. Unless the big house is your home."

That's always possible.

[silvercrowned]

"No, my home is Imladris. Rivendell, Karningul," she replies quietly, perhaps hoping that any of these languages may be familiar, and unaware that it may all be translated into the same term. "The Last Homely House east of the Sea."

[misborncat]

Asato shakes his head. "I don't know those names, I'm sorry." He crouches a bit lower, tail curling around his ankles.

"But, this place isn't bad. And there is warmth and food inside if you'd like." He's learned from Konoe that those are usually good things to offer.

[silvercrowned]

"Thank you," she says again. Strange cat-being that he looks to be, the man's concern seems genuine if she is any judge of it. But still, she does not feel like moving yet.

[misborncat]

Asato won't push it, and he'll settle in to watch over her in case of danger and wait until she's either ready to move or shoos him away.

[silvercrowned]

She is a little confused that he stays, perhaps she expected him to lose interest - but will eventually climb to her feet and glance back at him to see if he moves.

[misborncat]

She's hurt! He can't just leave someone that's hurt in the middle of the woods. That wouldn't be polite. When she stands, he does as well, ears flicking towards her with interest.

He's far enough away (he hopes) that she's got a few feet between them, but he's close enough that should she need help, he's just a good lunge away.

[silvercrowned]

Celebrían stands a little shakily, hands at her sides and shoulders drawn up, pauses, and takes a step. The ground seems to remain solid, she can keep her balance, even if there is an unhealthy amount of black spots swarming through her field of vision.

[misborncat]

He watches her carefully. Asato knows better than to just reach out to help without either being asked or without there being an obvious need.

Still... He's worried.

[silvercrowned]

Unfortunately she has the stubbornness of her family, and will try another step - perhaps find uneven footing or just get dizzy, at any rate she will find herself falling suddenly, and gives a little cry of surprise.

He's not completely wrong to be worried.

[misborncat]

He moves fast, like all his kind, and will reach to either, typist willing catch her or at the least break her fall.

[silvercrowned]

There is a grateful look from her, or at least something like it, when she is caught before hitting the ground. It is difficult to think, much less speak, and sleeping for a little seems to be a very agreeable idea. Water, a sip of it, also would be well, but sleep is the more pressing matter. Her eyes slip closed.