[P] mother courage;

[Galileo]

galileo kodarki

Surprisingly, it is a welcome change to have someone to talk to, and seeing as he couldn't exactly go galloping off because of his injury (and the mare seemed eager to talk), Galileo stayed. If he had been more knightly, like he once had been, he would have offered to walk her home. But, in his older age, he had become indignant in his ways, and his leg hurt. So she would have to find her own way back, if she so chose. At that moment though, it seemed she had no intention of leaving. Settling into the place he was in resting on his three other legs, the warmth of the rocks was a comfort as he leaned against them. When she giggles, he pauses. It is a gentle sound, but as distinct as dawn compared to dusk. And he smiles.

Willoughby.

A name that suited her, no less; her politeness was endearing. Names for the stallion were a thing of confusion, as he'd be known by many things throughout his time. For so long he had gone by Kodarki, his family name. His comrades had called him it, and they had been his closest friends. But now the name came tinged with guilt and regret, and lacked the promise and grandeur it once held. House Kodarki was a crumbling shadow of its former self. No, to the elegant mare before him, he would offer his true name.

"Galileo," he responded plainly. "It is nice to make your acquaintance, Willoughby."

Peering around him as she asked him questions, he wrinkled his muzzle in thought. "Mmh, not quite," he replied. "I suppose I align myself with the ruler of these lands, though I know very little about them. I haven't been here long." He didn't offer her much in way of information, but he did not yet trust her, and he was already speaking to her more than he would most, the hermit he had become.

"Are these your homelands?"

-
@Willoughby

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