one sword out of many.
If not for the wind, their presence would seem like the only thing in existence. The mountains seemed to go flat as the trees went quiet—and since when did the songbirds let the sun rise without greeting him with their melody? Or maybe the world lived and breathed around him and it was his focus that became so narrow he did not see or hear them.
In his focus was the melancholy marvel, it’s subtlety shattering within the poetic response he had provoked from the mare. It poured sadness. He wondered if she felt as deeply as she thought and if so, did she get lost in what surely must be agony? He did not like to think so deeply. He knew what dark and vicious thoughts lie in his own mind and so he made a point not to spend his time there. He desired, strangely, to get her out of hers.
“That sounds a bit like a riddle to me and one I can’t solve for you at that. I find it far more preferable not to fail at all and never find out.” He washed her words away with his own, starving her ponderings when he probably should have fed it with musings of his own. But he was not the musing type. Even as she went on to share her tale, he could only listen to her words, understanding them without the help of imagination. He had always seen things two-dimensionally. It made easy for solving problems and exploiting tactical failures, but rather poor for visualizing the immense imagery which she tried to paint for him with her words. Still he lent her his ear, understanding more of who she was with not only each line of her speech but the very underlying implications of the things that she said.
“I can only see a Unicorn.” His answer to her was almost child-like in its simplicity, but then he was not a very complex man and that was one defining trait that kept him grounded all these years. “But riddle me this:” He continued, and as he did he rolled his shoulders back so that his wings ruffled and drew her eyes. “If I lost my wings, would you call me a Pegasus without wings or just call me a horse?” Perhaps he could be thought-provoking after all? At least that was his intent, although he studied her for only a moment before offering a softly spoken justification for his question
“Because if I were to believe your story—no to say that I do—but if I did, then I would like to think that the sea gave you the very thing that you asked for and now you are simply reborn anew. As for your chain…” He exhaled, cocking his head to the side and turning his ears about in a way that mocked a puzzled expression. “I would surmise that is a metaphor for something that you’re meant to unravel.“ The half-smile that only appeared for a moment as he spoke implied more than what was actually said. Maybe he did believe her? But then, he had too many unbelievable things to decide for or against and he wasn’t prepared to burden himself with another.
When she offered her name, he tried it on his own tongue as if to bid his own memory to hold on to it. “Isra…” His voice was pale as he spoke her name, but came alive again as she posed a question of her own. “A truth? We are quite different, Isra—I’m not the sharing type. What bit of honesty do you intend to ask of me?” He anticipated the same question as before and already pulled back the hammer on his next evasion, he only needed to pull the trigger. It was a game in which he intended to win or force her to forfeit—the means were trivial so long as the end was the same.
@Isra //
