The red stallion paused, lip twitching involuntarily. That was a kindness - if kindness it was - he had not anticipated, and faced with it he found himself lacking for one of his fluid, immediate responses. The ties binding Raymond and Asterion were ugly and frayed. They pulled like ill-fitting sutures with each twist and turn of their contrary minds, but beneath the welts and bruises those ties had been sewn with good intentions.
Looking back across the plane of his wounded shoulder, Raymond tilted his head toward the star-marked sovereign. "Thank you, Asterion." Softness seeped through the gravel in his voice. And he meant it.
Then he slipped out like a cat, the last glimpse of him a sinuous flick of his tail as it followed obediently in his wake.
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
<3 @Asterion
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
