[AW] resurrection;

[Galileo]

Galileo

they do not tell you
that icarus laughed as he fell;

Change was in the air.

The staleness that had tinged the aura of the desert had sent Galileo into hibernation. Quietly he had lingered, wandering in and out the canyons, lost in a contemplative daze. Like a rabbit, he had hidden himself away, fearing that the people of the kingdom were on the edge of revolt against the missing sun-kissed king, Adonai. 

The last time Galileo had laid eyes on the stallion was during the Solonius, when he had proven himself a worthy warden of the lands. He had been excited to take up a new position, one that would have given him direction and self-assurance. Instead, he had been left with the empty feeling that, as ever, nothing good lasted.

And now there was talk of a new king, no longer graceful, calculating, nor sun-kissed, like Adonai had been, but a storm of a stallion brushed with the easterly winds and tempered by cerulean ice. With no idea of the new king's name, Galileo had taken to calling him stormborn. It seemed the new king would be the polar opposite of Adonai. 

There was no doubt he would pledge himself to the new king in due course, but first, he had to regain his footing and understanding of the lands. Adonai had been a boy, a child in the eyes of Galileo that needed protecting. From what he had heard on the whispers of the desert breeze, his replacement would not need Galileo's protection, and it left him wondering what his place in Solterra -- or even the world -- was to become.

His hooves had taken him back to the city walls, and he stood uneasy outside it's gates, needing a reason to step inside as his heart was not in it. Twisting around to leave again, he considered returning to the safety of his crimson canyon walls.

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