The blue-black stallion sought respite from the heat of day, climbing to the heavens in search of fresher air.  It wasn’t that the salt and sand of Solterra were distasteful to him – for in truth, Voltaire had long forgotten what it felt like to have something for his own pleasure and comfort.  It was a place to live, plain and simple.  He would serve the kingdom, because it was his duty to serve.  He would heal their sick and wounded, because it was the least he could do to atone for his own sins.  But he had long punished himself to the point where he could not remember what it felt like, to feel.

Still, he understood the feeling of being sticky and uncomfortable, so as he climbed the mountain, his mood became clearer and the wind was a welcome distraction from the heat.  Nearing the top, his sweat stained coat shivered in the chill, a welcome change from the summer heat.  And he looked around in this place of worship – knowing he was unworthy, knowing more than ever how small and insignificant his own life was as he looked down on the world that they had created, finding Solterra – red and gold against a sea of green life.  Everything seemed much more in perspective from here, the least of which how little he mattered in the grand scheme.  

Turning from the cliff’s edge, he found his way to the altar of Solis, seeking the one that Eden had spoken of.  He would not ask for forgiveness, or even the consideration of this god – but he knew that he needed to pay his respects and show his deference to the deity which led this place where he now lived.  It would not due for his cursed life to take another turn toward darkness… and he would do whatever he could to stay in the good graces of the Sun God.

He bowed his head, tipping it to the point where the jagged tip of his horn nearly brushed against the dirt at the statue’s feet, and he closed his eyes to reflect. He didn’t expect for an answer persay, as he’d gone so long in his life without the favor of the gods. But it was duty that kept him here, duty that brought him peace. Sighing to the quiet mountain, he wondered if he was even worthy to stand in this place, praying hopefully to gods he had yet to know. Would they shun him, turn him away… perhaps they would punish such a sinner for standing in their midst.

His mind was a cloud of troubled thoughts, and his lips pursed as if thinking through the consequences. Voltaire had come to this place seeking forgiveness, but if he couldn’t forgive himself, what hope did he have at deserving such things (and from the merciless sun god, of all creatures). Looking around, his ice blue eyes blinked against the ever-watching sun, a gut wrenching feeling in his stomach… for he knew the god of day saw through the flimsy mask he wore, and he knew Solterra would know him as he was.

Quietly, the stallion stood among the relics of the Day Court, knowing that he must atone for his sins.  Alone, he could do nothing more than pay homage to a god he’d yet to know… and yet it is duty that drives Voltaire forward to the shrine.  It is duty that keeps him here, praying to the unknown god of the Day Court, hoping for some sort of reprieve from the pain and suffering in his life.  Though the sinner knows he doesn’t deserve it, there is something in him that wants just a piece of freedom from his own inner turmoil.  As he stands solitarily on the rock, he wants nothing more than to fade into the oblivion of this place, unnoticed as he goes about his ways.

But, life had other plans.

Even as he stood in the quiet, there is a noise behind him.  For a moment, Voltaire wants to ignore it and carry on as he had been… but then he hears the voice – a child’s voice and question.  Though he is too old to believe in such things as miracles, he turns to answer the girl, but instead finds a young mare… far too old to believe in such things herself.  He quirks a brow as he regards the silver button-eyed female, wondering if she really knew the horrors life had to bring, or if she was truly as innocent as she seemed.  For a moment, he simply stood and watched her, as if deciding whether or not to answer her honestly… but with a sigh, the denim blue stallion offers something of a response.

”There are no miracles left for me in this world.”  And his sullen face grows a shade darker, for shame drew a defeated sort of look to Voltaire.  Here, on the sacred mount of the gods, he could do little more than be honest.  And honesty bore the terrible truth for him – that his life would only continue to be a series of atoning tasks… there was little more left for the Day Court caretaker than that.

Day Court Caretaker

Voltaire would give anything to be young again – to go back in time to that fateful day and choose a different path.  But now, his destiny was set in stone.  As he looked to the optimistic girl, he remembers what it is like to be young and idealistic.  He remembers what it is like to know the world is a bright and wonderous thing, full of possibilities.  Though his hope was long shattered by his actions, it wouldn’t do to taint the youth of tomorrow.  Perhaps this girl would make something worthy of herself, something worthy of the gods adoration and blessings.  He offered her a quiet smile, stepping closer to place his velvetine muzzle gently against the curve of her neck.

”Perhaps today you have given me my miracle – a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dire world.  There can be no forgiveness for me, child – for I bear the consequences of the choices I made long ago.  But for you, there is a light, and I hope you do not lose it.  Solis give you blessings, and reason beyond that anger that blinded me in my youth.”  

If someone had given him the advice long ago, maybe he wouldn’t have done what he’d done.  Perhaps he wouldn’t be living a cursed life – a half life – filled with penance for his actions.  ”Thank you, child.  Solis watch over you.”  He paused for a moment, staring at the silver girl as sunlight soaked into her coat, wishing her peace as he nodded and returned to the Day Court, far from this place of worship and the reminders of the bitter taint of his childhood.

Day Court Caretaker