You do not fear me as I should be feared
His arrival was not heralded with the flight of crows cawing into the air, nor did the earth darken in his wake. For all intent and purpose, the ebon man was surprisingly lackluster and average; he was no hulking behemoth, nor elegant dancer. He moved with the weary stride of one who had traveled long and bore heavy burdens, with his crowned head low and his thick neck flecked with sweat as he moved through the heat of midday. He was seemingly innocuous, another weary, normal, traveler out during the peak of the sun's reign.
To believe that was foolish.
It was true that he was weary, but he was in no way average nor so beat-down as his posture would suggest. Perhaps it would be a wise warning if the world harkened his passing, for with the hatred simmering in his heart and the calloused intellect behind his haunting eyes he was one whom should be trusted less than the serpent laying in the pathway. It was merely suiting that he bore the guise of a traveler worn thin by the hard world, it was far less conspicuous than charging in screaming his fury and wrath to the heavens above, demanding retribution for the sins wrought upon him. It was also necessary for the man he wished to become in this new land, for his old name, while unknown, might reveal all too readily his purpose and nature to those well-versed in ancient histories and cultures long forgotten. So as he walked, the Pretender mulled over various names he hoarded like precious coins within his mind, each name bearing a different personality, different physical traits that he could no longer access, but could very well use the mannerisms included with them.
He did not choose to dwell upon the past once his choice was made, but in the silence and solitude of his walk there was little else for his ever-active mind to indulge in. He did not want to remember the choking, dead air of his tomb, of bursting from the soil screaming in pain and terror. He did not want to remember the stone behemoth that drove him from the place of his rebirth, and eventually from the land therein.
Yet his thoughts would not be denied.
Bitter air, so dry and stale it may have very well been dust in his lungs, tickling with a feather-light touch that left him coughing upon his first inhale. Darkness so deep that he feared he had gone blind, that not even closing his eyes changed the shapeless blackness surrounding him with it's oppressive presence. He reeled in confusion, struggling to breathe, to understand what was going on.
And then earth began to fall-No. He balked at the memory, at the taste of fear and terror still fresh upon his tongue and heart even after months away from his prison. It was not enough time from his re-emergence into the world to dull the razor blade edge of that memory, nor the ones following in it's wake. With an iron will forged by a childhood of political and cutthroat lessons, Ammon wrestled his mind to submission to bask in the stillness as the trauma once more sank into the depths of his mind, a leviathan that would emerge again but for now allowed him victory. Ammon's gaze finally lifted to look upon his surroundings, upon the flat plains of gently swaying grass and sweet-smelling air. He was not so hardened that he could not appreciate the beauty of the land, and his confinement had granted him a sense of appreciation he had lacked before. One never knew how precious the world was until it was almost taken away.
It was rare for the onyx stallion to be caught unawares, so when he heard the soft rustle of grasses parting and the crunch of soil under hoof, he flicked back an ear, the only sign acknowledging the presence of another. Yet his heartbeat sped, irrational terror arising in his breast. What if it was him, the beast from hell that plagued him like no other, that burned him with just a glance and made the beat of his heart shift and contract in agony? Swallowing his fear, the secret-keeper turned his proud skull, laying unsettling eyes upon his new company, relief surging through him as his terror was set aside. This was not the one he feared, simply another. Such emotion did not show upon his features, his face carved of onyx for all the expression it bore.
"Thou tread the earth with heavy hooves, thus thou do not seek to unsettle one such as me. Perchance can I be of service to thee?"
You do not know the first note of the music that moves me
