—
My friend, the stranger says, and the General adds him to another mental category. The kind of man who uses that word lightly, breezily, insincerely. While the General’s eyes might have narrowed, his tail lashed his hindquarters in irritation, Martell smiles.
“I was among those who returned with Queen Isra. I’m from her home country - the one she liberated.” He watches, nonchalantly, for a reaction that will tell him something - but when Vercingtorix speaks again, he accepts that he may know nothing of the returned unicorn queen, who with her dragon and daughter and terrible magic cut the throat of an empire ancient and proud. The blood bay does not ask him where he is from; if it is not Novus and it is not his own homeland, then it does not much matter.
“It can,” he answers, and does not laugh. “Certainly it makes a difference for state of mind.” His interest had been waning, despite the scars and the stature and the striking green eyes, but at the golden man’s last comment his gaze snaps back. “Indeed.” He does not add that such a habit is the reason he stands here now, with night still bluing the sky. “And are you still a military man, Vercingtorix? I’ve seen little of this land’s armies. I’ve been wondering if they rely on magic to defend them, instead.” The way he says the word, magic, is as though it is bitter, or barbs his tongue.
He had been readying to take his leave, polite yet curt - but he does not turn toward the desert.
@Vercingtorix
“I was among those who returned with Queen Isra. I’m from her home country - the one she liberated.” He watches, nonchalantly, for a reaction that will tell him something - but when Vercingtorix speaks again, he accepts that he may know nothing of the returned unicorn queen, who with her dragon and daughter and terrible magic cut the throat of an empire ancient and proud. The blood bay does not ask him where he is from; if it is not Novus and it is not his own homeland, then it does not much matter.
“It can,” he answers, and does not laugh. “Certainly it makes a difference for state of mind.” His interest had been waning, despite the scars and the stature and the striking green eyes, but at the golden man’s last comment his gaze snaps back. “Indeed.” He does not add that such a habit is the reason he stands here now, with night still bluing the sky. “And are you still a military man, Vercingtorix? I’ve seen little of this land’s armies. I’ve been wondering if they rely on magic to defend them, instead.” The way he says the word, magic, is as though it is bitter, or barbs his tongue.
He had been readying to take his leave, polite yet curt - but he does not turn toward the desert.
@
