***
Strange, to be called Denoctian. Strange to be called anything at all, from where Raymond was standing, but he was nothing if not adaptable. If he should be named as one of a group, perhaps it suited that it should be as one of the forgotten few, the survivors and oppugnants of tyranny. He could accept, adapt, or subvert whatever preconceptions came along with the label in due time.What must have happened between the kingdoms, that Denocte should be spoken of with such distance? It seemed nearly all of the horses he'd come across bearing the distinctive dry-dust scents of the desert were severe, no-nonsense types, from Teiran to Avdotya to this one, but that alone would not account for the distrust. When he smelled like the fens and fields of Terrastella, Teiran took more notice of his etiquette than his scent.
The red stallion paused as he was hailed, eyes flashing over the striped mare in a cursory appraisal as she did the same to him. She carried herself and spoke as one acclimated to a position of control - not just of herself, as Raymond was, but of others, though perhaps the tone of her voice carried with it a shade of something else.
She wore a gleaming silver collar, too, which itself was an implement curious enough to note. He had seen exactly one other garbing herself thus, and it was on her account that he had come at all. At the Dawn Court festival, it had not seemed unusual, as the horses here seemed taken to displays that tended toward the garish and peculiar when compared to the austere trappings of Rendari custom, but two instances marked the beginnings of a pattern, the story behind which his curiosity demanded to hear.
"A promise," he replied readily. Raymond's easy, relaxed grin and gregarious tone flashed in sharp contrast to Seraphina's clipped voice. He never went anywhere as a stranger, whatever opinion they had of him. "Made to someone with similar fashion sense to your own, in fact. Teiran - dark hair, green eyes, suspicious of knives." Both striped, both collared, both watchful and ready.
Sure, she might have been watchful because he was an intruder, but give him his speculations.
With a demonstrative, sweeping glance at their surroundings, he concluded, "She was certainly right about all the sand."
***
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.
@
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
