And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand It would seem that no matter how old he got, Apollo would never grow used to receiving compliments. In his eyes he did not deserve them. Why should he? He was just a man. A flawed man. He was no longer Chief, nor King, nor even a medic glorified by the Gods. There was nothing special about him… He did not stand out in a crowd. His colors and design were simple, pale in comparison to the many beautiful creatures that had graced Helovia and now Novus. Yet when Ktulu gazed upon him and her breathtaking crimson gaze grew warm with adoration and affection, he could not help but feel as though he was so much more. In her eyes, he was everything, and that was all that truly mattered. Her admitted words caused him to smile ruefully, honey-brown eyes glittering in mirth. “I’m glad that you didn’t,” he spoke back along the waves of a gentle laugh, “My poor spirit probably wouldn’t have handled it.” Apollo had been such a frail creature back then; so very timid and uncertain, speaking in stutters and shuffling his hooves with anxiety. By all right the Constrictor should have sent him away. The Grey had hardly been a place for one so meek and gentle, but… She hadn’t. She hadn’t, and now here they were. Ktulu was right, though. He had changed. They both had changed, yet it wasn’t necessarily a bad one. Both broken and warped, incomplete and flawed, but together, they were beautifully, tragically complete. Then, their conversation shifted, and he frowned. A chill of a long ago storm doused him at mention of the World Eater and the challenge that had nearly taken his life, the memory of a shrill scream, of ’Face me, you coward!’ echoing in his ears. The dancing mirth in his eyes disappeared, anxiousness replacing it, and Apollo exhaled a mighty breath. Instinctively he reached out to Ktulu, pressing his muzzle intimately against her neck, seeking solace and safety within the tresses of silken ivory. “… I have nightmares,” the Merciful admitted, muttering against his dark lady’s flesh, finding no shame in his words nor in the stuttering fear in his heart at the sheer thought of Confutatis the World Eater, “Of then. I have nightmares that I failed, that she won, and that the Foothills were stained and soiled from the blood of those that I loved.” Breathing in, Apollo held his silence, simply relishing in Ktulu’s familiar scent. He would drown himself in it, if he could, forever captured and held within her presence. To her, he would submit; body, mind, and heart. When he spoke next, the stallion’s voice was soft and far away, as though he was not completely there in his body by the frozen lake. “I remember looking up, through the rain. I remember seeing everyone.” Ktulu, Archibald, Lakota, Phaedra… So many. They had come for him. “Without you all, I don’t think that I could have done it. Without you… Oh, Ktu.” He shuddered, ripping himself from the terrors of a war he shouldn’t have had to fight, but one he had done so willingly, because his love was his greatest strength, and his greatest weakness. And oh, how he had loved them all. Lipping at the smooth flesh of Ktulu’s neck, Apollo finally pulled back enough to meet her gaze. He inhaled deeply, holding the air within his lungs as he bolstered himself, and then smiled. Once more the Merciful’s honey-brown eyes were deep and soulful, glittering with love. “Now?” Indeed. What now? They had been within Denocte for some time, but Apollo struggled to fit in. They did not share the lifestyle of those who called this place home. They weren’t gypsies in the night, or dancers, or storytellers, or singers. They were misfits of a different world, cast out and forgotten, left alone to only each other… And truthfully, they did not belong here. It was not ‘home’. ‘Home’ was a beautiful sleek black mare with silken ivory hair and passionate, fierce crimson eyes, with a dangerous edge but a loving heart. Wherever Ktulu went, Apollo would follow. She was his home. He did not need a land, a province, a Court, to tell him otherwise. Suddenly an idea sprung within the overo’s head, and he lifted his head higher, that coy, rueful smile back upon his lips. Something in his heart felt so remarkably young at the unexpected thought, even though he and Ktulu were far past the prime of their lives. “… Let’s just go. Let’s leave this place behind, and go somewhere else. Let’s see the world, Ktu. You and me. We’ll look for Eytan and Zola and find somewhere just for us.” It had always just been ’us’. Even now, it was just the two of them; the sole survivors of the Grey. Ktulu and Apollo. Other than their wayward companions, they would only ever need each other. It was how it had been, and that was how it would stay. When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am |
@Ktulu EEEEEEE <3 <3 <3 <3 <3
