I hope to arrive to my death
Late, in love, and a little drunk
Killian remained silent as the other man shared his final remarks over the deceased, and again turned his head towards the sky. A smile was sent to the vultures, for they had signaled him, on more occasion than one, of a fallen wanderer still draped in valuables and silk. It was his payment, allowing the buzzards to consume the kills. By the time he dropped his head down again, the other man had already begun moving.
The coyote prince trotted forward until he was beside the other, and then matched his pace. He nodded at the appropriate increments, and when the man noted that he had been found here, he decided to share one of his more realistic origin lies to match. “I was born by the Oasis, and found by wanderers. We are nearly brothers, simply born to the desert by happenstance.” A playful wink lightened his features, “though my adoptive parents kept myself and my siblings moving. Eventually I returned to Solterra, where I finally came to rest.” Believable enough, and not that far from the truth. “It’s good to meet you, Zosimo. Perhaps we may become friends, Simo is easier to remember.”
Changing times usually didn’t effect the stallion. He was certainly able and willing to adapt, and he usually remained beneath the radar of anyone important. That was, until they made the mistake of stepping down and moving on. In that case, Killian was usually upon their heels, looking to collect a toll for their safe passage out of Solterra. ’What other option do you have,’ he would say, ’You have already left. No one would know you were missing. No one would care if the coyotes chewed the meat off of your bones.’
“A metalsmith, you say,” Killian mused aloud, nodding appreciatively. “That is certainly a valuable trade. Especially in a place like this, where everyone and their mother seems to be a soldier, I’m sure it’s a lucrative business.” He would have to remember that. He was in the market for a new blade, after all. His last one had become compromised, lodged in something solid. To any who asked, however, he was unsure of how he had lost it. “I’ve had many ambitions, but unfortunately none have come into fruition.” He shook his head in feigned disappointment. talk“I have very few applicable skills. Sometimes I help local citizens collect payment, deliver goods, carry messages, just casual harmless things.” He shrugged, casually dismissing any negative connotations that may spring to mind based on his wording, yet also planting any seeds should the storm-painted stallion decide he needed any assistance in the future. “It pays the bills. Though, I do find some enjoyment in the libraries. I try to learn what I can, with the hopes that some day I can make a name for myself.”
His humility in what he shared made the story believable, at least he hoped. “How far do your deliveries take you? The other courts must be beautiful. Don’t get me wrong, I belong in the desert. Solterra will always be my home, and the most beautiful one at that, but still I wonder what it must be like to live in more temperate and hospitable climates.” Though the questions were innocent enough, they were also critical to creating a mental note of the man, should they ever meet again. Besides, Killian had wondered, before, if there were better places out there. Eventually the time may come to need to move on again. Perhaps this would provide a good idea on where to point his compass.
