and went home with it
Yes, Abel tells him, and Toulouse follows the bay man into the heart of the capitol.
He keeps behind him by a pace, his eyes trained on the younger man’s back. He’s quiet, he realized; but he said nothing. Abel had been quiet for most of their few interactions thus far; who was he to say this was out of character?
Still, as the clouds rolled overhead and a brief ray of starlight lit his companion’s back in silver, he couldn’t help but wonder. He knew he was from Denocte, had fled to Solterra hiding beneath Raum’s own skirt. He did not know the specifics, nor the man’s reasons; but here he was, set on helping destroy his childhood home. There were not many willing to go to such extreme’s; few men were as devoted to a cause.
The farther they sneak into the city, the faster his heart beats. He can taste the salt and smoke in the air, the silence so thick and so palpable he could slice it with a knife if he so chose. It’s almost time, his mind whispers, excitement blossoming in his chest. He hadn’t realized how easily his blood would sing at the prospect of violence; perhaps he is becoming more and more like his twin after all, he supposes. A prospect that is not entirely unwelcome.
Abel ducks down an alley hardly wider than himself, and Toulouse has no choice but to follow. Voices make him duck his head and press into the brick walls of the nearest building, becoming so still he could easily be mistaken for a statue - if it were not for his wavy locks that danced in the stray breeze, and the silver of his eyes that flashed in the darkness. From the shadows, he watches Abel’s face carefully. Were you one of them, once upon a time? he wants to ask, but he doesn’t need to; the way his companion grows still and closes his eyes is all the answer he needs. Images of young, barefoot orphans - one s bay with white stripes - run through his mind as the strangers pass.
”Do you miss it?” he asks softly when they are alone once more, but there is no kindness in his words. He doesn’t expect an answer.
”We will have our chance in a few minutes - but we could wait until one of the other fires has begun. That should draw all the guards away for some time.”
Toulouse frowns at the voice in his ear, watching the flame waver in the distance. ”The longer we stay here, the greater chance we have of being caught.” Better to catch them all unaware at once, he thinks as he melds back into the shadows. It was a quiet night, but they were not alone; each of the horses they had passed proved that. ”We’ll take the first chance that comes to us.”
It was not for a lack of patience - Toulouse would gladly wait all night for their chance. But he was not willing to squander that chance when it came; he would not rely on someone else to do their part before he did his. While he had reasonable faith in Targwyn and Rufio, the horned man had learned long ago that he could only trust himself in life.
As the seconds tick by like hours, he sinks into the darkness, letting it envelope him like a robe. Without thinking, he touches the cool metal of the ring secured upon one of his horns, as if reassuring himself it was still there. He had hidden the rest of his attire and artifacts in Solterra; but this one was too invaluable to leave behind. He wonders if he’ll have to use it tonight; he wouldn’t know until it came time.
”Get ready.”
The flame is coming closer, bobbing along down the street in front of the guard. He’s whistling a tune unknown to him; its peals are soft and sad, melancholic in their harmony. The song gets louder and louder, hoofbeats echoing down the street. Toulouse tenses, still against the wall - the light of the flame slips into the alley, highlighting his tail for a moment.
But then the guard continues, unaware of their presence. His back grows smaller with each step, the flame soon disappearing around a corner.
”Now.”
Toulouse pushes off from the wall, stepping into the street. He moves quickly alongside the buildings, steps light and quiet. When he lifts the tinderbox to strike a match, orange light washing across his face, he nods to Abel.
And then he tosses the first match into a sack of grain, watching hungrily as the flames roar to life.
@abel
