THERE'S A FIGHT TO BE WON FOR THE LOVE YOU FIND AT HOME, WORK TO BE DONE BEFORE YOU REST YOUR WEARY BONES. I'M FINDING PEACE DON'T COME TO EVERYONE I KNOW; SO I WILL LOVE IN THIS LIFE UNTIL I FINALLY HAVE TO GO.
Orestes has never known to accept formalities; and so he smiles. “Good morning, Champion.” He addresses her by her title; in part because it is proper, and in part because he believes it will please her. It does not take him long to fall into step beside her. Orestes does not believe he has ever seen a mare marked so boldly; it is nearly unnerving, but rather than allow it to unsettle him he flashes a radiant smile. “Perhaps the markets?” Orestes suggests. “We can get something to eat.” It is also an opportunity for the Champion of Community to observe the community she leads.
Orestes nods as he begins to head in the aforementioned direction. “I couldn’t agree more, Baphomet. I apologise for it taking us so long to get past formalities; the court has kept me busier than I would normally like.” He offers a small shrug. “Not to complain, of course.”
The palomino listens intently as she speaks. Although his expression does not suggest any interior feelings, his eyes are alight with interest. “You spare the best details Baphomet,” Orestes chides, playfully. “I love stories of tyrants and altercations.”
If her story worries him, he does not show it. “What was the land itself like?”
The markets are not so far that it will take them the morning to reach them; but the walk gives Orestes enough time to contemplate his answer. As the days pass, he finds it more and more difficult to describe his origin. It can only be due to the fading magic in his veins; the way his old land abandoned him. Perhaps it is a blessing; perhaps a curse. Orestes says, “I came from a warring island somewhere across the ocean. There were horses full of magic that could become any shape they wished and were in love with the sea; and then there were the islanders, who hated them.”
Orestes pauses, blinking away the light. He glances at her sidelong, for a moment, and thinks of how much easier it would have been had he been born somewhere in the desert, instead. He does not think it dismissively; merely as a kind of hard, detached fact. It would have meant he’d only have to live his tragedies once. “Anyways, I was one of the only one of my people to make it out alive, and sometime later I was lucky enough to wash up on the shores of Solterra.”
WELL I KNOW I HAVE LIVED JUST A WRINKLE OF MY LIFE AND I HEAR SO MANY TIMES IT'LL BE OVER IF I BLINK TWICE. GROWING OLD FEELS LIKE YOU'RE GIVING UP YOUR SOUL, I'D RATHER GIVE IT FREELY TO THE ONES I CALL HOME.
@Baphomet
