[private] just a relic

[Set]

" ... but always keep them on a leash."

Her name sparks no sense of familiarity when she speaks it. He does not dwell long on whether or not it is because she came before him, or if he is simply just too self-involved to remember the name of someone who did not belong to him. He tilts his head, shaking the water from his coat with a low, appreciative groan. “Seems like Beqanna has coaxed a lot of us back.”

Sticking his front legs out, he bends down and bows back, the stretch more feline than equine, eliciting another gratified sound from his mouth. He straightens, turning his attention to idly browse on the autumn-dead vegetation clinging to the bank. It’s bitter and water-logged on his tongue, but he has a hard time standing still. Perhaps it’s the multitude of creatures that exist just beneath his pied skin, but likely it’s a habit from long ago, before Beqanna had changed him. Born without magic, in a kingdom without magic … it’s been a long time since he was the wild, golden-eyed son of the Chamber, favored heir to their bloody queen. A long time, indeed. One corner of his mouth quirks upward in a ghost of a smile when he looks back to Agetta. His eyes, though, dance with the mischief that is their natural state.

“We would have been enemies, back then,” he says, sidling closer. “The Chamber, the Gates …” The names of the long-ago kingdoms are chalk on his tongue and he goes quiet in retrospection. There had been a time when nothing and no one but the Chamber and his family mattered. One of the worst things about immortality is knowing that everything will come to an end eventually … except for you. His red roan little darling, the sweet curve of her hip, warm eyes that held a cunning intelligence that only one other had rivaled. The coal-colored mare who had defied decades of strife between their kingdoms to love the boy that he once was (and often still is). The battles, the wars, the secrets and subterfuge … the brief lulls when peace existed between kingdoms. They had all come and gone, slipped past past he and she -- those who remained timeless, but not unchanged. Far from unchanged.

Realizing that he’s not been present for an awkward length of time (not caring, you see, but realizing nonetheless), he blinks several times before looking down again to meet her gaze. “Would you go back, Agetta? If you could, would you put us all back … then?” His question comes suddenly, direct, bright eyes curious. He would. He would go back, if he could. When he had first come, drawn to his home even as the plague had crept from shore to shore, he had thought it would be easy enough to pick up where he had left off. It just had not felt … right, though. Would it now?

SET

alliance champion, once king, mage

@[Agetta]