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[AW] and the snakes start to sing - Printable Version

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and the snakes start to sing - Roshan - 09-18-2019

The streets were slowly coming back to life. The oppressed citizens of Solterra were slowly creeping back out into the dusty streets, filling the stone alleys with life once more. With every day that passed since Raum was removed from all of their lives, the capitol was slowly losing the look of a city abandoned, home to only the ghosts of the damned. No longer were the streets filled with the mournful wails of wind and silence, but instead with the growing chatter of people trying to figure out what they were going to do and how they could repair the lives damaged by Raum’s madness.

Roshan, for his part, was attempting just that.

He didn’t give two shits about Raum. The fool was dead and gone and the world was a better place for it. Hopefully now Solterra could heal, even without a sovereign to lead them. Throughout the terror that had been his reign, the thief stuck to the underground, stealing and undermining the pitiful excuse of a king, using his unique skillset to fuck the fool over time and time again beneath his very nose. Food reserves? Stolen. Water caskets? Disappeared. Wines and jewels? Fucking gone. His biggest heists yet, and no one had been around to see them. What a pity.

Shame Vendetta also happened to disappear, because Roshan liked to believe that even the Red Rose of the Markets would be pretty damn proud of him. Or maybe she would just call him a fool and finally slit his throat to be rid of his idiocy forever. He didn’t know.

What he did know, however, was that the amount of orphans that lived within Solterra had greatly increased after Raum took over, and his heart ached for the hungry children that skulked about in the shadows. It was a lifestyle that he knew all too well, remembering the aches of starvation and the fear of punishment for stealing, and so shouldering a large bag full of the food reserves that he had stolen from the dead Usurper’s larter, the thief took to the streets. Bandit soared overhead every step of the way, the Ferret-Dragon quite happy to be out and about in the public eye once more.

Roshan did not think of what he had learned. He focused on finding the latest hideouts for the orphan boys and girls, the crest of the sun upon his chest hidden away beneath the thick canvas of a rugged scarf. The words echoed in his ears; ’You are the son of Zolin, the Boy King.’ The mark upon his chest confirmed it.

He would not, could not accept it. Raum and Zolin had been far too similar, and Roshan? He didn’t want to believe that he could be the son of the Boy King Zolin, true heir to Solterra’s empty throne. How easy would it be for him to simply waltz up and claim the throne as his own? How easy would it be to follow in the footsteps of his cursed father, falling into the inescapable depths of his own self-fulfilling prophecy?

No. No. Roshan was not his father, but more than that, he was not Raum.

So, Roshan simply did not think about it. Like water dripping from a leaf, the thief let it all fade away for the time being, losing himself among the streets that were slowly beginning to bustle with life. Bandit soared about, darting from place to place with the natural curiosity that came to one of his breed. It didn’t take long to dart into a back alley, shrouded in shadow and hidden away in the deepest corners of the city. Already a group of young colts and fillies had gathered; five in total. They watched him with fearful curiosity, ears pinned and tiny legs ready to bolt in a moment’s notice before recognizing him. This was not his first delivery.

He smiled warmly as Bandit came to rest upon his brow. “Here. There’s a little more than last time, so help yourselves.” With great care he removed the bag from around his neck and shoulders, laying it out for the youth’s to take. Inside were various foods and skins of water which they tucked into with agusto, devouring everything within seconds. Through it all, Roshan relaxed against the nearest wall which was still still cool from the nighttime cold, his gaze shifting from the alleyway to keep watch and the thin, malnourished kids.

They offered him back the bag and Roshan took it, slipping the far lighter leather around his neck. “Go on. Lay low for awhile. Hopefully things will improve from here, but I’ll be back again tomorrow.” The children quickly scampered off after a word of ‘thanks’, hurrying down the alley and disappearing into the streets once more. Roshan watched them, his honey-brown eyes taking on a look of mournful understanding.

“Everything’s still fucked no matter which way we look at it, right Bandit?” Even though the evil was over, who was to say that the next ruler wouldn’t be the same way? The thought made him shiver from a chill that not even the rising sun could get rid of.

"Speaking."
credits


Open for anyone!


RE: and the snakes start to sing - Ramses - 09-23-2019




Dawn washed over the day court and coated everything in golden light, heat already forcing its way down the streets. The man sighed as the warmth settled over his skin, a familiar and welcome comfort. The skull on his shoulder jingled as he waltzed down the stone street, those crimson eyes analyzed each miniscule detail around him, something he’d retained from his time with the Davke. Towering above the citizens that scurried past him, he grunted in annoyance while his face remained devoid of emotion as they bumped into him.
In that moment, he decided he wouldn’t choose these streets over the vast openness of the desert. However, if he desired to be a politician he’d need to accept such small inconveniences and grow accustomed to the bustling of city life. A sly smile appeared on his velvety lips at the thought and the feral thing inside him roared. Oh how he longed for such influence - soon he would find a way.

Somehow he’d wandered deep into the capitol, down dark alleys and silent streets. It wasn’t as he’d imagined but Ramses had a good idea what would have caused such dilapidation, Raum. The tyrant had nearly destroyed Solterra, he’d been a poison embedded deep under the skin of their sunkissed nation. The coyote’s chest constricted with anger as he envisioned the tortures the silver skinned imposter had flung upon the citizens. If only someone could’ve stopped him sooner….
The stallion was promptly drawn from the depths of his own mind as a group appeared just before him, hidden by the shade of a dim alley. The beast halted, his muzzle lifted and eyes narrowing as he watched. He huffed quietly at the sight of the starving children, how could the nation allow such things to take place? How could they allow their future to starve?
Rage blurred the edges of his vision but his face remained fixed with that cold, indifferent expression.
Surprise suddenly bloomed in his chest as Ramses realized what was happening, the painted stranger was feeding the colts and fillies. Ramses didn’t care where he would’ve found such luxuries but he instantly respected the winged man as he continued his silent vigil.
Finally, when the youth had fled the other direction with quick, quiet “thank yous,” the giant allowed words to pour from his maw.
"“That was the only good thing I’ve seen since arriving,” it was a simple statement, one filled with a silent understanding and admiration. The winged stallion would’ve survived within the Davke, for the tribe knew the importance of partnership and nourishment.
"Where did you get it?" Ramses asked, his voice once again dull as he stared at the spot where those hungry foals had eaten before he lifted his gaze to the stranger once more.

@Roshan "speaks"
rallidae