THERE'S A HOLE IN MY HEART
and I don't know why
Do you even breath anymore?
The woman's voice cut across the still morning air like the crack of a whip. It shocked him, but he did not register the surprise, did not twitch a muscle. What kind of statue would he be if the presence of a stranger broke his vigil?
With a casual slowness, he turned his massive skull to meet her eye. The mare that stands before him, confrontational in her posture, is surely a sight to behold. Her Navy coat seemed to glow, gilded in the sunlight like a star. Her mane a fire, catching the early morning rays. In the end however it was her eyes that captivated him most. Her molten gold orbs held his deep brown boldly, and it was enough to jog at a part of himself thought long buried. Hers was the first company that he had had in many years, and he knew it showed terribly. He was a ragged mess, but even the dirt and solitude couldn't completely hide the warrior he once was. And who's to say that his chivalrous nature was completely dead.
Turning himself with carefully measured steps, he faces her more squarely. Sizing her up and fluttering his gargantuan wings to settle them more comfortably. He follows her gaze across the meadow to where a young boy is frolicking with others his age. The look she gives the boy is one that the knight is intimately familiar with. He remembers how proud he was when he had his own charge, his own princess, and the pain shoots through as poignant as when he failed her.
At the mare's second question, he merely bobs his head before dropping to one knee in a low bow. He may not have much, but he still had his manners. Even though she looked quite capable, this strange mare was still a lady and should be treated with respect. As he straightened from his bow, Rocinante looked first from the mare before pointedly tossing his head towards the boy, a question in his eyes. He tried opening and closing his mouth then shaking his head to show his lack of voice, but more then likely she just thought him mad. How desperately he wished he could speak. Whether to ask questions or to make excuses to leave he didn't know for certain, but at least he would be able to ask her name.
Rocinante | Blue Roan | Belgian Draft | Stallion