S I M O
It was not a day that he would have chosen to been out amongst the sands, the sun too high in the sky without a cloud in sight. Only fools stood around in the midst of a desert for very long, whether you were born of the desert or not. Even the snakes and scorpions knew when to seek the shelter of shade, simple creatures as they were. The metal smith stood atop one of the dunes, sending up a vain prayer for rain -- the wings perched just behind his ears flapping gently in order to keep him cooler under the sun’s beating rays. It was a glimmering, golden death trap for any unwary traveler -- beautiful to the eye and unforgiving as any raging sea or storm.
His stride was purposeful and smooth across the sands, seeking that shelter that he dreamed of -- headed back towards the sand-worn walls of the Day Court and his work as a metalsmith. He had quite the list of things that needed to be finished so that he could see about making the deliveries tomorrow, which was what today had been full of. His crude methods resulted in crude but fairly sturdy tools, and he was sure with more work and blessings from the gods that he would see improvement. It did not seem to stunt his business, though, and as just one man in the business -- he had to do much of everything himself. Not only the actual grueling work, but any deliveries that had to be made or house calls for adjustments on things like the shoes he sometimes made.
The stallion was the color of storm-clouds, splashed with striking white that was muddled with sweat and laborious effort. He had never been vain about his appearance, though his adoptive mother had always admired it. Lovely enough to be a woman! She had exclaimed on more than one occasion as he had grown. His father’s bassy reply had been more of a growl. Not my boy! A fine warrior he will make He thought fondly of how wrong they both had been, laughing aloud to himself as he trekked upon the desert’s shifting sands.
A stranger appeared just ahead, his shape blurry like the mirage until Simo drew closer still -- and it became increasingly more apparent that the stranger was just as real as he was. The smooth glide of his gait slowed, wary but not afraid as he drew closer to the interestingly colored stallion, his eyes of sky blue peering out with friendly interest until they fell upon the dead. His ears twisted and fell back against his skull, the delicate wings behind them tucking back as well. Death had never set well with Simo -- he detested the destruction of life, and the two were locked in an entanglement the promised a slow death, specifically for the canine.
He could not help the slow curl of his lip, averting his eyes from the gruesome scene. Simo was far too gentle to lead the life of a warrior, and this was just one example of why. He could imagine that he would have leapt in to stop such a fight, if only to avoid this untimely end of both creatures. He snorted, kicking sand in the direction of the dead as if to help the desert along with the inevitable burial.
”There are no victors here, but death.” He said simply, his lips twisted into a disgruntled grimace. ”An unnecessary and brutal ending for both of them, may Solis bask them in his light. He murmured the prayer rite reverently, earnestly praying for peace for the two souls. It was unlikely, given the grisly death -- but perhaps Solis would welcome them to his ranks as they had died in the god’s favored pastime…battle
@Killian
coding by Avis
