Helios fixes the man with his burnt umber eyes, refusing the break the gaze. The soldier was not one for grandstanding or peacocking- mostly because he was no one of stature; any infamy and importance he gained was only from being a soldier and not from any familial title. But also because any pride he might have once had was relinquished under Viceroy’s training. The most important thing to him now was Solterra and Helios was little more than a sword in her arsenal, a chink in her armour. The Black Sun knows what the spotted steed is getting at, the way his statement draws attention to the obsidian of his coat, the satin smooth waves of hair the gleam beneath the sun’s early rays. But he refuses to rise up to the dark man’s games, no matter how much his arrogance irks the russet soldier and instead continues to hold the stallion’s emerald gaze. “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never met the owner.” Perhaps his statement might have come across as insolent were it not for the level bluntness in his tone, the refusal to assume that someone who looked like the midnight steed could only ever be a noble.
Those emerald eyes flicked over Helios’ body, a dismissively quick assessment and one that almost every noble made of a soldier like him. Especially when they saw the collar and wondered exactly what monstrosities he had committed on behalf of the child King. And Helios cannot deny that flicker of surprise like a flame in his gut when the site of the silver metal around his throat does not deter the steed’s eyes. Most nobles dipped their gaze when they saw the collar- out of fear and out of guilt. No one wanted to know what child soldiers like him had been through to secure them their wealth and safety. No one wanted to think about what those child soldiers would do when they realised the nobles had not suffered beneath Zolin’s reign- certainly not like them. It was a choice. They would say- as though at the tender age of 1 Helios had intended to be tortured and forged into a deadly weapon. The children don’t know any better.They would think- as though Helios could not see what life was like when you didn’t spend your childhood training to kill every hour of every day. But it bothered him not. What had happened had happened and it had been necessary for his family to give him up and necessary for him to kill in order to save lives.
As though reading his mind, the stallion comments on Helios’ collar, a comment voiced by dozens on many other occasions. He tips his head just minutely to one side hearing the scorn in his voice and seeing the jeer in his eyes. “I know that.” Helios would not waste his time explaining himself to this stallion who clearly considered himself so much better than soldier.
Still regarding him with those eyes of embers, Helios watched the man approach, smelt the lavender rich upon his coat, mixed with the faint tang of sweat. Exactly what was this steed doing out here if he considered owning an orchard so beneath him?
That display of carelessness, ignorance of those who could not afford food was staggering as the onyx-hewn stallion plucked a few dates from the tree and eats them ceremoniously. Helios felt his blood simmer, his eyes smouldering, but he did nothing, said nothing.
“I will wait for the head picker,” he offers, tight-lipped but as the other steed maintains the nearness, so too does Helios make no move to part. It was upon a matter of principal that he would not back down to a noble as many expected him to.
@Corradh <3
