you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh
with your bones and your flesh
A hunt, the court whispers amongst each other as he passes, every being pressed close equally for warmth and the gossip it brought. They pay no mind to the deer-like boy with whispers of Solis and his challenge, and those who rose to face it --
a pale stallion, with horns like a bull, someone else whispers, and he thinks of a not-so-lonely night on a mountainside, of an understanding that had almost-but-not-quite been reached between two boys who thought too often about death.
“The Gods don't often give easy quests,” He whispers into the air between them when their paths cross, anxiety humming beneath his skin in a familiar anthem, the dragonscale around his neck gleaming like an oilslick. He knows too well how fickle the favor of the divine could be, how treacherous their hunts and their games would be for the mortals who dared to join in.
@El Toro
you were only a boy,
when you were thrown into a war.
when you were thrown into a war.
