there was something in the water, now that something's in me
i can't go back, but the reeds are growing out of my fingertips
He’s not really listening to her reply; Texas had asked only so he could soundlessly mime along to whatever witty retort Prague might have. (Despite his age, the bay stallion will never be known for his maturity). She’s still in the Jungle – she’ll always be in the Jungle – and it is (and will always be) her presence there keeps the lanky stallion permanently ill at ease with the Amazons. Prague is unpredictable and so the Jungle is unpredictable – fickle and wild in the way that only women are. Texas has always been equal parts enthralled and repelled, but his vocal dislike of the kingdom and the fact that Prague knows it is not entirely dislike are as much a part of him as his tail.
His dislike of magic is not at all feigned though, and he huffs irritably as Prague manipulates the world around them. There is nothing he can do to stop her, so he stands idly and watches the grey mare with a scowl from beneath his flying mane. He’s not naïve enough to think that there’s anything pleasant coming after the guard Prague has erected, and when she mentions the Gates and the Chamber he knows that the secrets to be guarded are political in nature.
Boring.
But he listens, unable to hide his glee at the dissension in the Amazonian ranks and not at all mollified by the seriousness in Prague’s voice. She has always been the stoic one (perhaps only because she has to make up for the cosmic balance that is Prague and Texas). It’s only when she mentions her magic being tested that the grin begins to slide away; her magic has always been omnipotent and to hear her question it is not something he has ever heard.
“You’re not going to die,” he says, as unable as Prague to show his emotions. His tone is dismissive, as though she’s said something entirely nonsensical that he is not even going to bother with. Texas refuses to think about her death. Too much of Texas is tied up in the existence of Prague for him to even begin to fathom the idea of losing her; he’d bring Beqanna itself down to avoid it, and will never admit such a thing aloud.
The tornado stops and the falling dust is a welcome distraction to unpleasant thoughts. He meets Prague’s eyes with a crooked smile, knowing that the changes since their last meeting are more than visible in his greying face. “Last I heard, we already have an alliance. ” He replies, quirking a brow as if to ask if anything has changed since
texas
