nobody dies a virgin, life fucks us all
Leilan had grown on Arquus. The silvery-mahogany roan and the less-flashy—all-the-while less modest—hickory toned overo had hardly looked back since the day in the field. They were undoubtably similar in thinking and venturing to each kingdom did give them ample insight into finding suitable residence.
Though, Arquus couldn’t deny the alterior motive hanging predominantly in the centre of his mind.
(I wonder how long until Cyprin remembers we are here?)
Politics were hardly the focus of Arquus, merely immune to that sort of devotion and care. Life became complicated when the thoughts of others consumes the thoughts of you; like voluntarily committing suicide against everything real and raw left of you. It ate the strongest alive and left the weak at the top, hiding behind titles and an army of blood-thirsty devotees.
Though, the idea of being able to watch the rotational door of royalty without the consequences of blood-spill would be entertaining.
So, here he is—submissively interested in politics.
(Just putting out feelers.)
“Quite the space,” he considers, noting the elegant abundance of flowers and lush grass without the annoyance of blistering heat.
ARQUUS
@[Leilan] @[Cyprin]