Nighttime in Sideralis Prairie reminded the red stallion of the big sky country in which he'd spent his formative years. The sky stretched overhead, an uninterrupted and unpolluted dome of glittering splendor as its countless stars winked and glistened like a spray of crushed diamonds. He was a worldly creature, hooves planted firmly on the ground in more than just the physical sense, but such vastness awoke in him the very same awe so readily claimed by the more religious majority. Here on the prairie, Raymond remembered his smallness as readily as he remembered the path that had brought him across the leagues to this place and this moment.

Perhaps solitude had been a contrivance of his character, imposed out of bitter pragmatism rather than desire. Perhaps the part of him that had wanted so desperately for his dal'rend's dream to flourish had not died with his followers.

Ruth's presence, a distant yet overpowering weight alongside his own, shared her own view of the starlit sky from her nest deep in the Arma Mountains. Stars were scarce where she had weathered the tortuous millennium alone on a dead world, and here - freed or at least shielded by their connection from the most destructive elements of her Tarrasque nature - even the clouded mountains provided an endless cornucopia of things upon which she could feast her eyes.

An indistinct image pressed itself through the link like a drawing pressed against frosted glass and the red stallion's eyes focused more intently on the skies above. Several minutes passed in silent regard, until he caught sight of the familiar shape in the stars. Recognition flooded back through the link with the image, and Ruth answered with a deep prrum that Raymond need not be present to feel.

He had not played such an innocent game in a very, very long time.

Content to steal this moment from the night amidst the crushing weight of more substantial concerns, Raymond stood alone and apart amidst the softly rolling hills of Sideralis Prairie, his coat painted silver with moonlight and his eyes fixed upon the stars laid out overhead with a fixation better suited to the truly faithful.

And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying, 'Come and see.' and I saw.


and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around

And I heard, as it were, the noise of thunder
One of the four beasts saying,
'Come and see.' and I saw.

***

I wouldn't let her catch you saying that, the golden stranger fired back. Raymond's lip twitched up at one corner, flashing a lopsided smile that didn't bother with the pretense of rising to the other stallion's laughter.

If he wasted even a moment of his life showing unearned preferential treatment to a god's ego, he'd have greater punishments on his mind than divine retribution.

No, he was not at all worried about Caligo's vanity. If she was at all deserving of his attention, she would know at a glance or for the asking that Raymond was not one to be impressed by flashy displays and sultry looks. He had never been particularly lustful, and lusty maidens weren't really his type. He did not relish in the conquest of others' bodies, nor in imagining what it would be like to hold them to himself. He preferred to be the termites in the rotted-out beams of a church roof, gnawing away its last vestiges of resistance as the predatory priest prepares his Sunday sermon. He preferred to be the water seeping into thick castle walls in the height of a winter's day, breaking it before the waiting rebels outside through the grips of a hard midnight freeze.

He preferred a woman of storms and fury, eyes bright as starfire and body coiled as tightly as a stalking panther. What use had he for ogling the night mother's body, when his soul was already complete? And, knowing that, if Caligo still took umbrage at his indifference to her godly wiles, why the hell would he ever want to serve her anyway?

The stranger didn't belabor the point, though the flicker of his gaze perhaps belabored the point of Raymond's tail blade readily enough. Whether it was that or Raymond's subversion of his attempts to banter that reined in the yellow stallion's mood didn't particularly matter to him. Ruth, on the other hand.... She tugged at a distant edge of his consciousness like a child at her father's shirt sleeve, innocent selfishness making her rude.

Raymond studied him incisively as he spoke. There were hardly any ranks left within Denocte to speak of: Reichenbach and his pets had done a good job of bleeding the place dry before their cowardice bade them flee. Nearly that remained were drunken, washed-up veterans and frightened commonfolk. For a climber, if climber he was, it was delightfully fertile ground if one knew how to turn the soil. But climbers had gotten the night kingdom into this mess by the sound of things.

"What about the ranks of Denocte in particular captured your interest? You must have passed a fair few other opportunities to have arrived here."

His tone betrayed nothing beyond polite, active interest. It was not in the red stallion's nature to telegraph suspicion even if he felt it, and conversation came as easily to him as breathing.

***

Raymond
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
When the man comes around.

Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around