holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water
T
hey are each capable fighters. That much is apparent the moment the iron cages rumble open high enough for Galileo, then Saoirse, to step onto the waiting sands. The roar is instantaneous. A held breath, before the absence of all silence. Crack! The baying howl of a golden horn. Snap! The answering cry of an arbiter’s proud red flag. The start of a battle begs you this question: have you ever known it well, the sound of silence?
From the king’s box I lean forwards, my neck scraping the low wooden wall, my heart leapt into the hollow of my throat.
It is the first Solonia round in fifty years, and the crowds are ravenous for the first spill of scarlet blood.
It is not long before their lust is aptly satisfied. Saoirse, a streak of fire-red, slices a hoof cleanly across Galileo’s neck, the stallion reeling back before the strike can sink below the skin. From then, eyes rubbed raw by the first shock of pain, (Solterra rubbed into their hides), they are evenly matched. I watch with hooded eyes, imagining myself down in those sands, each fighter’s strides kept in time with a rhythmic tap of my hoof. They would tower over me.
A smile breaks across my face. I would not be a king, down there.
By the time the winner is announced, I have rubbed the leaves of the Solonia wreath to a shine with an idle wing. Somewhere an arbiter nods up to me; grasping the wreath by the teeth, my wings flick out, two sails, as I leap out of the box to the sands.
“Galileo.” I remain hovering a foot off the ground, as the bay stallion is so tall I would not be able to reach his head if I landed. And victors do not bow to kings after the heat of a battle. They are honored figures. “Solterra honors you. If you have not thought of yourself as one of us before this battle, then I hope there is no more doubt in you now.” The wreath is a bright gleam in his oaken hair.
“And Saoirse,” I say, shifting over to the violet-eyed mare, “The Roanne have produced an intimidating fighter. If you ever wish to seek a position in our ranks, know you will have a king’s favor.” I pause, clearing my throat, breaking finally into a starling’s grin. My hooves skim down to arena sand.
“Now. Let the medics see to those wounds, eh?”
@Galileo @Saoirse <3
