I hope to arrive to my death
Late, in love, and a little drunk
As the other soul approached, Killian drank in the sight with an intrigued gaze. Beautiful that one was, colored like the stormy sky above an angry sea, crowned with feathers and a delicate face, with curves to match, and a— oh. The stallion cleared his throat as he realized the carefully sculpted beauty was a he, and diverted his gaze back to the pair of predators that lay dead at his hooves. The other stallion seemed perturbed by the sight as he came to rest by the corpses, and Killian hoped with all of his might that the other man wouldn’t lose his lunch over the whole thing. But his words resounded within, and the golden found himself nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Yet, death comes for us all, and in the end, it is the only thing that can truly conquer all.”
For a moment, Killian watched, interested in the brief prayer shared over the dead. He had never been a particularly religious being, nor did he believe anything followed this life. He had decided previously that when his lights finally flicked out, all that would remain after the ages would be a pile of bones, hopefully adorned with precious jewels and brilliant gold. A raised brow was originally the only response as the other stallion began an attempt at burying the creatures, but then he used his own forehoof to gently push some sand in an attempt to assist with the burial. It wasn’t long until a looming shadow circled above the pair of the living and the pair of the deceased, calling his gaze skywards, and a smile threatened to pull at his lips. “Though, wouldn’t you say that even in death, life always finds a way? Even the scavengers deserve to eat.” He watched the vulture move in a lazy circle, until soon another joined it.
“Should you still wish to bury the two, I will help. But the desert claims that which is its, and life moves forward as it must. Isn’t that Solis’ ultimate will?” The birds above would certainly find a meal elsewhere; they were adept at surviving as they could. Besides, even if they were to bury the two, the coyotes later would unearth them and claim them as their own. If the other man was as sentimental as he seemed, perhaps it would do him good to find comfort and closure in burying them. So, he gave another half-hearted kick, tossing more golden granules upon the pair.
The man smelled oddly metallic, and Killian was curious about that. He had never seen the man before, but he moved so certainly within the desert that it seemed possible he was as familiar with it as Killian. Dipping his head, he moved on with his words. “My name is Killian,” he began, nearly hesitant at sharing his name; usually he shared a fake moniker with those he was unfamiliar with. Yet, he couldn’t imagine lying in this situation would benefit him at all. Usually he shared his nickname with women, or those he was planning on swindling. However, the other man seemed as though he was nice enough (as if that had ever stopped him), but he wore no treasure easily seen. “I am a mere commoner here in Solterra. You seem well enough to not be a weary wanderer lost within the desert. Who are you?”
