Iliad knows with every performance comes those who are less than appreciative. Nicodemus, for example, makes it his goal to piss on his choice of instrument every chance that he gets despite how phenomenal he is at playing his banjo. It became a habit to play some 2 AM riffs just to grate the necromancer’s nerves and listen to him rant at his blatant antagonism. Still, the two were often inseparable for the sole purpose of practicality. There was a shared familiarity between them and an understanding of a long lost home.
It is not long before he notes the filly from the corner of his eye. Iliad turns to face her, still strumming on his banjo though his humming has ceased. One moment the filly there and then realizes that she looks genuinely frightful. A look of concern and confusion flashes over his face and his head tilts a bit.
“Uuhhhhh…. Everything okay?” Iliad asks as he tucks his wings tightly at his side and he moves to take a step towards the filly. “Cause you look about ready to piss yourself."
Iliad
Let me not then die ingloriously and without a struggle,
but let me first do some great thing that shall be told among men hereafter.
