Raymond could have shared with her a recounting of Calliope's rampage across the riftlands, when dragons did darken the sky like murmurations of starlings. But dragons seem to be as unique and varied as horses, and those had been nothing like this one seen bending to the will and whim of a smug-faced porcelain princeling.
They had also died like autumn leaves to the withering chill of Calliope's retribution, but that was a story for another day.
"Oh, you'd be surprised."
Nodding an acknowledgement, the red stallion turned and beckoned her with him toward Denocte's heart, and whatever shadows awaited therein.
Raymond.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
A crappy closer.
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
