"Please allow me to introduce myself ..."

He wades in the half-frozen creek, ice tinkling its melodic demise with every step, every sweep of his muzzle. The cold steals up his legs, the cool kiss of air on wet skin a stark contrast to his heated and steaming back. This new Beqanna was alien to him. A Beqanna where the Chamber no longer exists? An ear twitches back, following the soft gurgle of the creek. Not tied to it, he would suppose, as tightly as some - he thinks of Atrox' heartbeat thudding beneath the surface, the blood of the Chamber's kings and queens, guilty and innocent leached into her soil - but still, it had always been home. No matter how far the magician had traveled, the Chamber had always been the center of his world. He shakes his head, snorting softly.

If it were not enough to lose his birthplace, She had recalled his magic, too.

Set had won his powers in the legendary Alliance; he'd not been born to the privilege, no. It's what makes the loss such a bitter one. (Though you won't find him losing much thought to the bitterness, it took some time but he's learned to be more than his magic, again). One day, he would reclaim his bounty ...

A dark shape catches the corner of his eye, fleeting and stark in the white and desolate meadow. Leaving the stream to its own devices he clears the bank, hooves slipping in the slush, eliciting a low grunt. It's been some time since he's had to physically exert himself from one point to another. Tail swishing, he follows her, parallel and downwind. It's boredom, really, that drives him to make contact. She seems unsure; of her surroundings, perhaps of herself. Clearly a foreigner, his identity is yet safe (not that there are many who would know him by sight or name, not anymore). Cheeky in his address, he calls out to her, close enough to make out her unfamiliar features, mischief lurking in his gaze.

"You're trespassing, you know." His voice lowers conspiratorially as he draws closer, ducking his head and tilting the white side of his face in her direction. "I'll forgive it." He grins, winking.

SET

alliance champion, once king, magician

" There's a black bird perched outside my window, I hear him calling. I hear him sing. He burns me with his eyes of gold to embers. He sees all my sins. He reads my soul. "

He watches her carefully, shrewd as he examines the play of emotions across her face. Her muscles tense at his first address, fear struck through docile eyes, only relaxing when he assures her of his leniency - leniency he has no right to bestow, but does so anyway. His eyes track the lift of her mouth at her sudden smile, body gone lax, trusting. His gaze falls to the thrum of blood in her jugular, prominently displayed given her lack of a winter coat. It's fascinating, this sudden awareness of mortality. Though his body is frozen, suspended in the aging process so that he will never creep physically past his prime, no longer does he possess the power to rebuild himself should real trouble beset him. This fragility of life ... he examines it intensely, an outsider who once looked out, and now does so again.

Her response belies her origins, the rough tones of her native tongue giving her voice an exotic taste. Bahira ...

There was a time in Beqanna where the mere mention of his name brought forth stark memories, both of deeds and misdeeds. It is no so now. Few remain who are able to match face to name, or name to face, though it would seem that this sudden vortex their homeland has thrust upon them has coaxed many once-familiar faces from the woodwork. He bears little fear that she will know him, this docile innocent tinged with sadness and loss. "Set," he says by way of introduction, a dark ear twitching in her direction. One corner of his mouth twists up in a wry, mocking grin. "Don't believe everything you'll hear." He lets the warning hang in the air a moment before sweeping away the somber tone their conversation has suddenly taken.

"Why are you here?"

SET

alliance champion, once king, magician