Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
Raymond did not believe in Divinity.
Oh certainly, he'd had plenty of exposure to the gods and monsters of various cultures that one could hardly be honest in claiming that they didn't exist, but he had little patience and less respect for the edifice of organized religion. The power of gods comes from the masses: without them, even the greatest of deities is just some sad, infinite dude.
So when a most unusual messenger arrived, seeking out Florentine with singular purpose and through its sheer oddity attracting the attentions of quite an assortment of individuals, of course Raymond reacted. The sharp angles of his face offered not even the shadow of awe or reverence, reflecting only a chessmaster's analytical frown.
He eyed the flower maiden's reaction. This was quite the weight to be laid on such young shoulders, and while he has no doubt that she would try to do what was best, he would sooner trust a viper not to bite than feel secure in her ability to pull it off alone when she still had so much yet to learn. All rulers walk with a sword suspended overhead; few are not broken by its subtle and eternal threat.
Calliope, as usual, cut straight through the bullshit and took action as only she could, but it was Israfel he watched as the lady of lions made her swift and decisive exit. He had rarely seen the sun-bright mare or her mythical companion before, but he most certainly did not miss the sly expression that flashed across her face.
He blinked, then turned his attention toward Florentine. "Calliope is right. You should be careful where you place your trust." The red stallion glanced toward the few gathering nearby out of the corner of his storm-grey eye, one ear flicked their way and the other strained in the direction of Calliope's receding hoofbeats.
"Never underestimate the capacity for someone to mean you ill, even before the gods. Especially before the gods."
With another appraising look in Israfel's direction, Raymond turned toward the path that Calliope had beaten and took his leave. He did not answer to Israfel, or to Florentine - for the moment, his plans were his business.
Oh certainly, he'd had plenty of exposure to the gods and monsters of various cultures that one could hardly be honest in claiming that they didn't exist, but he had little patience and less respect for the edifice of organized religion. The power of gods comes from the masses: without them, even the greatest of deities is just some sad, infinite dude.
So when a most unusual messenger arrived, seeking out Florentine with singular purpose and through its sheer oddity attracting the attentions of quite an assortment of individuals, of course Raymond reacted. The sharp angles of his face offered not even the shadow of awe or reverence, reflecting only a chessmaster's analytical frown.
He eyed the flower maiden's reaction. This was quite the weight to be laid on such young shoulders, and while he has no doubt that she would try to do what was best, he would sooner trust a viper not to bite than feel secure in her ability to pull it off alone when she still had so much yet to learn. All rulers walk with a sword suspended overhead; few are not broken by its subtle and eternal threat.
Calliope, as usual, cut straight through the bullshit and took action as only she could, but it was Israfel he watched as the lady of lions made her swift and decisive exit. He had rarely seen the sun-bright mare or her mythical companion before, but he most certainly did not miss the sly expression that flashed across her face.
He blinked, then turned his attention toward Florentine. "Calliope is right. You should be careful where you place your trust." The red stallion glanced toward the few gathering nearby out of the corner of his storm-grey eye, one ear flicked their way and the other strained in the direction of Calliope's receding hoofbeats.
"Never underestimate the capacity for someone to mean you ill, even before the gods. Especially before the gods."
With another appraising look in Israfel's direction, Raymond turned toward the path that Calliope had beaten and took his leave. He did not answer to Israfel, or to Florentine - for the moment, his plans were his business.
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
