The day was bright, the autumn sun hun at its highest point while a gentle breeze moved the few clouds across the bright blue sky. The marbled leaves clung to their branches fighting for one more day, one for hour perch atop of the word before their lofty journey to the ground. As always the fall brought different sounds, gone were the cicadas of summer but the early migratory birds called daily overhead as they trekked to warmer lands. The temperature was cooling, but there was no nip to the air yet. But all means, today was a beautiful day, one of the lasts before the winter came and made everyone dark, wet, and cold.
Within the stretch of land stood a tall, somewhat lanky, stallion with a red underlay to his bay coat. He was as filled out as he once was, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t regain. By all outward appearances he looked to be shy of 10, but he was old than that, due to the magic that ran through Beqanna. Upon closer inspection sadness consumed his eyes and fine features. He did not notice the bright pleasant day, as his mind was still processing the sight of the fire along the shore of the beach, the lose of Killdare. He stood in the meadow, where he had first met the green-eyes stallion, and reminisced. Completely in his own world, he payed little attention to those around him, content with the memories as company.
The recent years since The Reckoning had been the exact opposite of the year before it. Nymphetamine had been a prominent member of Chamber, working to uphold and build the kingdom’s allies and keep the status quo of those they were aligned with. As Killdare’s governor he was constantly working, moving...busy. But those days were gone, his purpose left open like a void chasm. He had spent most his time laying about, with little to no interaction with anyone. It was bothersome, but try as he might he just didn’t seem able to get into the swing of the new Beqanna. He thought maybe it was a need to change his herd affiliation but when it came down to it, he had no wish to break ties with the old alliance that formed new Tephra. So he faded away, retired into the background, but it suited him no more than a different kingdom would have. Stuck. Simply put he was stuck.
The lose of Killdare rattled him, made him wonder if he would ever rise as he had before, would he ever lead a land and emulate those leaders he looked up to? Would he ever be able to keep the promise he made to Killdare up on the Beach shores? Either way, he stood, consumed within his mind, a shadow of who he was, unable to move forward and feeling guilt for it.
Nymphetamine
in my heart, that barless prison
discolours all with tunnel vision
@[insane]