v r e i s
jealousy, turning saints into the sea
swimming through sick lullabies, chocking on your alibis
but it's just the price i pay, destiny is calling me
open up my eager eyes, 'cause i'm mr. brightside
Vreis watched closely for her reaction as he extended his muzzle towards her - noting the frozen behavior, the wariness. His extension slowed - allowing her to move if she so chose, but it wasn't until she relaxed that he allowed himself the boop of the small bells, grinning when he saw the look in her gaze, his smile reassuring that he understood why she had been skittish, "You'll just have to learn not all stallions are like that cobblestone idiot." He teased her, flashing a cheesy grin, "Some of us are far more handsome for starts." He added, playfully bolstering up, "And charming," He flashed her that charming again, "And just more entertaining in general." He grinned, dropping the act until the friendly, and charismatic stallion was once more himself.
Or this version of himself. The manipulating monster inside his head was noting the way she'd accepted the touch. Had seen the way she'd judged, dropping pretenses only when she saw nothing negative by her own approach. It meant he was hidden well, the Rebel who avoided even the gaze of the Knight. Settling down and making sure he took note of every little aspect of the mare. Silly thing, only waiting for the immediate responses. What if he'd been the sort to wait until the guard was down before lunging - having already gotten in close enough to be able to make that snap with no warning. How silly for her to not be prepared for such responses.
The Knight was happy to just assist however, offering company, reassurances, leading her away from the bonfire, leading her away from where unfortunate, demanding eyes could continue to watch her. As they move, she talks about the foolishness of happy endings and fairy tales. "You're a wise woman, Torielle. Not too many are willing to hear the tales of life, when they can hide behind the fairy tales of fantasy. Flights of fancy are not bad, perhaps; for a child before bedtime, to encourage the youth to slumber in peace while war wages around them, but there comes a time when even the blind must be told where they're walking, so they do not step on land mines." He agreed, "Of course, I think when your own life is dark, the taste of happy endings and fulfilling stories can settle the heart and give you the ability to believe things can get better; as well. When all you see is darkness, you need something to introduce you to light."
Oh how such a thought made the Rebel want to twist his muzzle up in disgust. There was no light, there was only darkness. Only those who would cast you aside. Build you up, just to watch how far you can fall. Would shower you in awards and compliments, only to scar your cheek a traitor and send you on your way, denying you entry to your home, your family, your brethren, your life. There was no light, just pain, betrayal and revenge. But the Knight craved happy endings. People able to celebrate together, to see people live their best life. The Rebel, oh how often he saw the Knight as a foolish being . . . . when the time came, when the Knight was not strong enough, as he always did, the Rebel would rise up, he would do what needed to be done, so the Knight could remain pure . . . because the Rebel knew what really needed to be done. Even if the Knight hid like an ostrich, burying his face in the sand so he could pretend the war didn't rage on around him. So he could pretend the child he cradled as he drew them from the burning wreckage was merely asleep. The Rebel would protect the Knight, because the Rebel knew the truth the Knight fought to prevent.
The wound there ways, and the Rebel noted the blindness the mare took to following him. Foolish creature. The Knight however was determined to uphold her trust so far. Drawing back the fabric of a tend, offering her the shelter, even as he stood awkwardly, trying to reassure, apologize and explain the same breath. She shook her head in acceptance, to the Knight's relief and the Rebel's satisfaction, stepping inside. Both men froze as she brushed against his built, her body warm in a way the man hadn't felt in so, so long. When was the last time he'd laid with a woman? He forceably cast those thoughts away, the Knight refusing to betray her trust, but the Rebel smirked in wanton desire. Perhaps all was not lost with letting the Knight pull the reins . . . for now.
She settled upon the cushions of the small tent, admitting to wanting to be out of sight. He followed her inside, gently laying down beside her, being careful to be as respectful as possible in the distance that he kept from her. Letting her choose how close they would lay, as she questioned why he was in Novus. His muzzle frowned, dropping, and that instant worry returns at the pondering of where his doves were. "The world I come from is not . . . like Novus. It's a place lost to a tyrant king who sentences those with magic to death, no matter the uses. I was once his knight, beholden to the King who took me in when I was orphaned. Gave me the chance to join his military, raise in ranks, despite no title, no monetary support. And rose, I did. I was proud to serve my king, turning a blind eye to just how cruel he became . . . Until I found one of my mares practicing magic." He paused here, "She begged me you know, begging I not turn her in. Promising she would disappear, never to return - no one would know I let her go."
He shook his head, his eyes regretting, and even the Rebel settled at the memory of what had been a turning point. "I took her to my King, as a good Knight would . . . and instead of the apology as what must be done was done . . . I was accused of treason, harboring a magic user. Branded a Traitor and exiled." He fell quiet, the slight twitch of his jaw, as if feeling the searing pain once more as the metal was pressed to his cheek. "It was when I first began to suspect my king was not so just . . . over time, I met with like minded individuals, a rebellion was formed . . . and who better to lead it than a former Knight of the very own King . . ." He turned his gaze towards her, impossibly black eyes swirling like oil in that moment, "Two of my men disappeared one night, through a portal. Just . . . gone . . . I followed them here, fearing the worst. Either deserters or kidnapped from our numbers. I both pray and fear it's the second." The memory of him approaching as the portal was struck, their wide eyes as the leapt through, even as he called for them -- it set the Rebel's teeth on edge. The Knight was a fool. The twins had abandoned him, just as his King had. Abandoned him, the rebellion, the people. Everyone. And he'd set it right. The Knight however held onto the concern of what had happened to them.
"And well, now I'm here I guess . . . Although, I realized a little too late . . . I'm not sure how to get back home. If I even can. I hope the people can forgive me if I'm not able to lead them to freedom as I had intended."
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Torielle
Notes:
