S I M O
The stallion held his ground upon the golden expanse of sand, his eyes averted from the utter tragedy before him. He had no heart for death, but it was an unavoidable...inevitable thing. The breeze from Simo’s wings brushed the tangle of ivory and black silk across his face, as he continued to use them to fan himself from the oppressive heat bearing down on them. He let his sky-colored gaze wander to the male next to him, appraising his appearance with an appreciative eye. He had no designs on the man, by any means, but he could appreciate another beautiful creature. ”Aye, that it does. The most victorious warrior in creation is death. He always gets his due.” He agreed, his voice dropped to a murmuring rumble.
His eyes turned to the sky at the arrival of the feathered death-eaters, their shadows brushing over them like a passing cloud. He hardly wanted to stick around to watch the carrion feast. The storm-colored male dropped his head, bringing his gaze back around to the masked stallion -- before turning away. ”Like you said, the desert will reclaim it. I won’t deny the vultures a chance to eat their fill. Some good may come of it at least.” He said, though he had no intention of lingering on to watch the show. He began to pick his way down the dune, leaving the stallion to follow him.
An audit swiveled in the other stallion’s direction, as Simo moved with the grace that came with living upon these dunes all of his life.
”Ah, Killian, you say?” He said, throwing the remark over his shoulder at the stallion -- who was a mosaic of gold, sin and ivory. Somehow he wondered if those colors indicated anything about his personality. ”Aye, I was found in these dunes as a child.” He conceded, nodding mostly to himself. Now that he knew that this male was of Solterra, he would be a little more careful about what he shared. Simo’s peculiar ways were enough to draw him attention in Solterra, he hardly wanted anyone to know the truth he kept hidden deep down about his true feelings.
”My name is Zosimos, but friends call me Simo.” He replied, the tone quite cheerful. He was in the presence of a herd-mate, which should have given him some peace. Solterra was at odds with nearly every court, what with that Sovereign of theirs mucking about. He always kept steered quite clear of politics if he could help it, even when it put him at odds. Simo had many friends from many walks of life, and yet he would not abandon Solterra. It would be as it always had been -- someone else would come to take the mantel away from the painted brute and things would change again. Always shifting, like the sands on the dunes.
”I’m the metalsmith, though I suppose that makes me a commoner in rank.” He offered, the information safe enough to share. ”My father owned it, but I’ve recently taken it over. I’m just coming back from a delivery.” He snorted, though the sand was not on the winds so bad today. ”Tell me, Killian -- what do you do?” Simo turned his pale blue gaze back to the masked stallion, raising a brow. ”We may be commoners, but we all have talents...right?” He offered him a smile, his ears tucking back and his wings fluffing out. He looked for all the world like a child, and many still considered him one -- despite his age.
@Killian
coding by Avis
coding by Avis
