Panting, his sides heave glossy black. Sweat and blood mingle and create a stench of deat. The entire one side of his body completely covered in crimson poke-a-dots. his black wing filled with holes that one could see through if they scrutinized him close enough. His hooves bloody and covered in the gore of other lives. He would live, but recovery would take a long time. No organs were punctured, his head and bones were perfectly fine. Just his hyde was completely marred with the results of trying to strangle a horse with spikes. He was lucky.

No one could doubt that he was lucky to walk away as he had. With his wings covered in icicles and his back sore from the stretch and quick rebound he makes his way back to his herdland slow and careful to not desturb anyone else. When he does arrive the oasis is his first stop, dipping in the cool water to wash away the blood, he begins to chew at the ice on his feathers, a few getting yanked off with the water. It had been a long battle, and as soon as the kings and queens had taken over the others simply dispersed. The idiots could finish it themselves. They didn't need him anymore, and besides not like he was going to be any use for anyone after that injury.

Head low he bites back each searing scream of his muscles. Collapsing on the shore of the pool blue mane tattered and chunks of cobalt hair and black skin missing from the shredding effects of the spikes. He had saved Weir, and allowed Ramiel a way of attack. It was something. In all the failures of his life at least he helped his king, and best friend.

Dark thoughts take over his head, and his brow furrows wtih the black clouds of hateful thoughts that turmoil in his mind. He should have stayed there must have been something that he could have done more. There must have been something that he could have done better. Watching Weir be knocked out, even after Phaedrus had sacrificed his wings for the man made him madder than hell. He was a failure, always would be. Everything good he tried the worse he made things.

He couldn't imagine that the mares here would be to happy with him either, not like he had been present for a long time. He had abandoned them just as he had everyone else. Being around him they would suffer, he just knew it. What was he to do? Should he give up his land and send the mares to a stallion that would be present for them? Should he just get up walk away and never return? It wasn't fair to them, he was a dissapointment just as he always had been.

He grunts, fighting the rolling pebbles towards the shore. Just as he does so, the... well not so little filly comes approaches. You've grown quite a bit little one. He tuffles her mane in affectionate greeting. Teasing her with the title. He was suprised to realize just how long he had been away. Honestly not knowing how to apologize once more for failing to be of more apropriate company. Before he can continue though he spots the mare that he had met earlier in the feild. Like she said. Its ok, just the regular politics of kingdom life. He breaks off for a moment tail swishing against the grasses. New Romantics, meet Riva, Riva this is New Romantics... but you probably heard me the first time He gives a cheesy grin trying to cover the tiredness that the battle had left there. Draping his injured wing over the newly developed mare.

What drew him to the Dale? Maybe because as far as far away from good could get was failure. The Dale was ussually not considered the top of the food chain. But not only was it not at the top of the food chain like the deserts or Valley, it was also everything the Deserts were not... or the Valley for that matter. His own mother and father having birthed him in the Valley. Lived their lives in the Valley, abandoned him to his Aunt in the Dessert for the Valley. Why not stay with the Deserts then? Because... Mimicry. He tried to make everything up to his mother, raise the child right, maybe then his disappointing habbits could take a turn and he would be excepted in his family once more. But no eventually even Mimicry disappeared leaving him in the dust.

Thus here he was. With a thin herd of fiesty females. All of whom had one or another reason for wanting nothing to do with him. And serving a kingdom that he continued to fail for as well. No need to leave Riva you just arrived. Would be nice to know how you are faring these days. His wings flutter out drooping to his sides kissing the long grasses as he strides closer to her hoping that Roma would follow and remain under the feathery black wing. He had no intentions of ignoring the other mare at all. Simply engaging everyone was something so deeply threaded into his nature that more often then not it would get him into trouble... oh wait... it already had. Well obviously that wasn't going to be ending anytime soon. And how are you faring as well Roma? I hop eyou were not to terribly bored.