bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please
The field had been both as interesting as he anticipated and anti-climatic. He had left with the potential of something to sink his teeth into but no clear direction—just the shadows of it. He had been glad to rid himself of the mare with clear intentions (and yet unclear to him) but had been slightly less enthused to lose the company of the bald mare so distantly related to him. There had been something about her that had promised, at the very least, interesting conversation, which was so hard to come by nowadays.
Still, he was not an overly sentimental man and he didn’t hesitate to peel off from the group, turning his heavy head toward the west where he knew that Loess lay nestled. It had been an interesting thought, this head of a kingdom for hire. He was not interested in pretending to be loyal to a specific cause, handing over his loyalty and obedience to be treated like a dog. But to be given tasks, something for him to sink his teeth into without strings attached? That was an interesting proposition indeed.
So he made his way toward the kingdom, sticking to more traditional methods of transportation if only because it felt good to stretch his muscles after so many days standing still and watching the crowds mill about him. Thankfully, the travel was swift and it didn’t take long for the field to melt away and the forest of Taiga to thin and then the invisible border of Loess to come up on the horizon.
When he was near enough, he paused, lifting a feathered hoof and then dropping it. Up above them, the mountains tower, keeping watch over the land where families and individuals alike seemed to gather and then separate in the simple patterns of life. For a moment, he considered calling for them, but that seemed too simple and too banal that he dismissed it entirely. Instead, he reached for the blood that still rolled down sticky on his shoulders and pulled light from deep within the earth—just as he had with Scorch.
This time though, the light doesn’t simply rise like a tree and then shower back on the earth.
Instead, he sent it shooting straight into the air like a comet, exploding it when it was high enough above him, sending constellations temporarily spinning out into the sky before fading slowly away.
He was curious as to how they’d react to such an obvious showboat maneuver and who would approach him, but mostly, he was curious as to how useful a magician could be to their cause.
woolf
I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste
