and I discovered that my castles stand
upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand
She thanks him but doesn’t stand, and Texas flicks his dark tail against his hocks as he waits. The soft thud of hooves on short grass have him turning his head, and he’s not especially surprised to see the black and white king stalking toward angrily. Texas might not agree with the majority of the new monarch’s decisions, but he does have to commend him on his actual presence in the kingdom – that’s an unexpected bonus.
The wall of white fire is unexpected, and Texas takes a step back, as wary as any wild creature of the steady flames. When Tiberios asks if he was not clear, Texas looks away from the fire to meet his gaze, and while he does not give a verbal reply, the shrug of his shoulders is quite clearly a : Yes, but I don’t care.
The bay stallion listens to the king speak to the mare in pain on the ground, and when the king turns back to him Texas returns the stare with a single quirked brow. The Gates’ mare rises to her feet and Texas watches wordlessly as she stumbles away. He calls after her, pitching his voice to carry across the distance: “Perhaps the Deserts can help.” They have a magician, surely.
At the sound of the pained shriek, he glances over his shoulder at Tiberios for just a moment before turning away. “You’ll probably regret that,” he says mildly. It’s clear from his tone it’s no threat against the king; Texas has no intention of doing anything requiring true social exertion (the ousting of a king for instance). He’s more than willing to let the clock run out on him – on all of them really, because it eventually will – while he stands by to watch history play itself out.
texas
