(Untitled)

[sinfulspeeder]

It's been a long, strange past few days, though not as strange as they could be. (Edwin counts this as a positive thing.) Unfortunately, it's also been a time in which Edwin has found himself completely and utterly lacking in anything like a map. Sky had told him to head to Kansas, but the air spirit is lone gone now, and Edwin is now just hoping

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[sworntoalostgod]

Oliver, too, is seated on his horse, his van parked a half-mile away. (He either doesn't think anyone will steal it, or he's confident he can find another van, one or the other.)

He's done hand to hand combat, his field patrolling and Warding, and feels he deserves a bit of a break.

Beau smells the new arrivals, tensing and whickering softly. Oliver Listens and hears Beau's strange horse! He nods, murmurs soothing words, and leads Beau forward.

Finally, that speck in the distance becomes a person-on-a-horse in the distance. Oliver - dressed in white, even if the Godsworn tattoo on his head isn't visible this far away - raises his hand and shouts, "Hello there!"

[sinfulspeeder]

Huxley looks up from his drinking, spotting the other horse and whinnying. Edwin turns at the noise, blinking once he spots he's not alone.

Person with a horse. This can't be bad, right? Right?

"Hello!" he yells back, urging Huxley onward. The horse needs little encouragement-he's a herd animal, after all, and heads towards Oliver and Beau at a quick trot.

[sworntoalostgod]

Beau's tail is up, ears perked - he's interested in and entirely unthreatened by this smaller horse.

Oliver gives Beau free rein, as he follows suit, covering up the ground much faster than Huxley. Oliver smiles at Edwin, open and peaceful and patient....

And very much with the Godsworn's flame tattoo on his forehead.

[sinfulspeeder]

"Oh, bugger."

Other people? Good. Other people who likely have a deep and profound interest in setting him on fire and/or shooting him? Not good.

Edwin pales visibly, feeling fear well up-and with it, shifting beginning. He's still, to be honest, rather terrible at controlling it during times of stress, and right now, he's definitely stressed.

"Gogogogo!" he mutters to the horse, turning Huxley around and spurring him into a gallop-using his rapidly forming claw tips as spurs. He's trying to keep his shifting in check, though, attempting to stop it before he sprouts any more plumage or pointy teeth.