I THINK IT'S TIME THAT
YOU CRAWL BACK HOME SON
YOU CRAWL BACK HOME SON
Between sand and stone they meet, two refugees with a singular goal, and oh, if that isn’t something unlikely in any other time and place. They are two opposite ends of the social sphere, the pariah and the (former) Emissary, but then again, he supposes they are not so different now -- both of them displaced by the dictator who had taken the throne, and, though he does not know this, both of them sent to the Oasis for a still-beating heart in another place.
He thinks of Sam on his knees in the desert, Sam with his voice breaking and exhaustion written on every line of his face -- of a younger Sam, breathless and wild as they had raced each other to the ruined Hospital where they had hidden away from Adriana’s wrath, where he’d postured and shrugged away the bruises and scrapes as just ‘training,’ where he’d lain awake throughout the night with his gaze trained on the vulture that had appeared, that Sam never appeared to see.
He knows, without a doubt, that he would kill to keep Sam safe -- that if he has to, he will fight his way to the very throne of Solterra, would go up against Raum himself, if it meant keeping Sam out of harm’s way.
May Solis have mercy on the souls of any who get in my way.
His shoulder twitches, the only sign of his distaste for following orders, but he will listen for now -- Eik’s plan is at least an actual plan, rather than just charging in and hoping he can get away in time.
“Right,” The word is clipped, short and sharp like a blade, and he dumps his own stolen saddlebags onto the sand after Eik before striding towards the first guard, hugging what meager cover he can find. Along the way, he picks up a decently sized chunk of rock, about the size of his own hoof, and his smile is grim when he realizes the guard seems to be dozing beneath the shade.
Foolish.
His teke is weak, but his throw still strikes true -- the rock wallops the guard in the back of the head, right between the ears, and the painted stallion is right there to catch the guard’s body and ease it to the earth.
(Unconscious? Lifeless? He doesn’t particularly care enough to check)
Task accomplished, he begins the short journey towards the third guard, sparing only the briefest glance to check on his companion’s progress.
“Speaking.”
He thinks of Sam on his knees in the desert, Sam with his voice breaking and exhaustion written on every line of his face -- of a younger Sam, breathless and wild as they had raced each other to the ruined Hospital where they had hidden away from Adriana’s wrath, where he’d postured and shrugged away the bruises and scrapes as just ‘training,’ where he’d lain awake throughout the night with his gaze trained on the vulture that had appeared, that Sam never appeared to see.
He knows, without a doubt, that he would kill to keep Sam safe -- that if he has to, he will fight his way to the very throne of Solterra, would go up against Raum himself, if it meant keeping Sam out of harm’s way.
May Solis have mercy on the souls of any who get in my way.
His shoulder twitches, the only sign of his distaste for following orders, but he will listen for now -- Eik’s plan is at least an actual plan, rather than just charging in and hoping he can get away in time.
“Right,” The word is clipped, short and sharp like a blade, and he dumps his own stolen saddlebags onto the sand after Eik before striding towards the first guard, hugging what meager cover he can find. Along the way, he picks up a decently sized chunk of rock, about the size of his own hoof, and his smile is grim when he realizes the guard seems to be dozing beneath the shade.
Foolish.
His teke is weak, but his throw still strikes true -- the rock wallops the guard in the back of the head, right between the ears, and the painted stallion is right there to catch the guard’s body and ease it to the earth.
(Unconscious? Lifeless? He doesn’t particularly care enough to check)
Task accomplished, he begins the short journey towards the third guard, sparing only the briefest glance to check on his companion’s progress.
“Speaking.”
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