He had been traveling for some time, yet still this land proved itself a mystery, it's inhabitants queer and its foreign nature terrifying for him to behold. He felt adrift a sea, lost and disorientated, unsure of what to do next, his desires unable to be fulfilled by his own uncertainty and insecurity in gaining a foothold in the world. He knew not where to tread, what to become with 'Vasher' being but a simple guise, and this ignorance only unsettled him further. It was easy to declare that he would seek vengeance, it was easy to aspire to it. Reality was much crueler and much harsher. As he journeyed, he listened whenever he passed others, learning but snippets of what was new to him and what was commonplace to the rest of the folk that resided within the lands. He knew now that within these lands resided four courts, aligned to the time of day and overseen by a single patron deity per Court, but he knew not these deific names nor even the locations of the Courts themselves.

   Oh, he could but ask any commoner he passed, but that would unveil his immigrant status more easily than a flag declaring it. As it was, his vocal patterns set him apart, and that he had veiled by simply feigning muteness or a simple reluctance to speak, and thus far all those he had but briefly passed had taken it at face value. He could not afford to let his ignorance be shown, and thus relied upon his wits to fill in the gaps of what he knew and what he did not. Gradually he learned the names of the gods, by curse or joking plea, though knew not what name belonged to what god. He learned the rough mentalities of each of the Courts, of the tension between Day and Night, and after finding a map on a drunken equid's person, he knew the locations of each Court. He had spent several days digesting the information he had gathered as he walked, mulling over the options that lay before him. As much as it galled him to place himself once more under the thumb of another, he would need allies for his vengeance and that would require aligning himself to a Court.

   It galled him, oh how it pestered him like a thorn beneath his skin... but it was a necessary evil, one he could see no way around. So he settled down upon a bluff overlooking the sea to ponder his choices. He currently resided near the border of Dusk and the sea, so should he desire the swift option, that was the blatant choice. Yet the Court of Dusk did not seem to appeal much at all to him, and although he could perhaps achieve the information he sought within Dawn, he strongly doubted his violent outlet for his retribution would be favorably looked upon. Granted, he doubted it would within any of the Courts, but within Dawn he would not truly be able to veil his actions. Which left Day and Night, polar Courts that each beckoned a different path. With Day it would be difficult to garner the information he so desired, but within the desert.... so many did go missing in those sands, after all. With Day's predilection towards violence and strength, it would be easy enough to don again Gracifilis's guise and become the warrior bent on revenge.... but he was loathe to return to that man. It was too easy to trick himself into believing he truly was Gracifilis, and the thought of using such a name again made his chest ache with the echoes of a pain he didn't wish to remember. Which left him with Night Court to find his solace and lair within. It was not the perfect fit, but it would suit his needs as it drew gypsies and roamers into it's embrace, many of which souls were loose to allegiance and preferred solitude. He could very easily become one of those many wandering, barely-known faces that came and went like the leaves of autumn blown away on winter winds.

   His mind decided, Ammon returned to the world around him, gazing out upon the crashing waves before allowing his legs to fold, sinking his ebony bulk onto the soft grass, allowing himself to relax for the remainder of the evening with the scent of the sea in his nostrils and the weight of purpose in his heart. 

I am the villain of this story
What else could i ever be?

  While he bemoaned of his loneliness he was a creature solitary in nature, and thus the arrival of another was ill-met, at least within his dark breast. Perhaps had he known that a soul so chatty was to pass this route, he would have elected a more shadowed place to lay his rest. His loneliness was of a different beast than his solitude, after all, and not something the mere presence of another could comfort nor ease. Yet none of this he let show, his fine features ever impassive and held as much expression as a stone.

   His companion was a mare of soft gold and creams, flowers of lavender like the fingers of a gentle dawn cascading from silken locks. She was fair, in her way, but the sight of her soured his tongue and he turned an eye as blind as stone to her beauty. She was light and fair, and had she met the one that had stirred his dead heart she would be crushed by his very presence, so delicate was her fairness. She was the antithesis to everything he was, everything that made up who the raven stallion was, even down to the very hues of their coats, and so he regarded her with only stony patience and equally stony silence as she galled to lay beside him without giving him chance to answer. Ah, but this irritation did not show, no flicker of emotion across features carved of ebony, nor did flicking ears betray his thoughts. He merely regarded her with a slow patience and impassivity, as one does an inanimate object.

   Her query, too, is answered with silence and flat inattention at first, those haunting white-opal eyes staring at her as if seeing through her, before he turned his gaze away and out back to the sea once more. On the silence continued, nothing but the wind stirring strands of silken black and gold, the crash of the sea and the whisper of breaths the only sounds to penetrate it. Whence finally words leave his lips, they are thick with lack of emotion, each syllable falling with the ease of pebbles from the hand. "I know not, mine mind never gave such fancies sustenance. Thou ask a queer question to a stranger, perchance one may call thee queer as well." He was all too aware of his accent, foreign and archaic in comparison to her lilting tones, and a part of his mind cursed himself for such, for it was something all to easy to notice and recall given the similarity all seemed to have while speaking the Common Tongue that itself was new to him. Finally those eyes returned to his uninvited companion, to gaze upon her fairness with impassive emptiness even as his words filled the air.

"Art thou a strange lass, wondering unto the mysteries of the deep thou shalt never know, or was that thine poor attempt to spark speech?" Though, he supposed, not so poor as he had indeed answered her... but it was all in the manner of his guise. 'Vasher' would not be so impolite as to ignore a mare, even one Ammon found upon first impressions to be rather... lacking.

I am the villain of this story
What else could i ever be?