 OH, TO BE HERE ON THE GROUND  This would be the one thing they had in common. Eager as he was to move away from the previous topic, he had no desire to discuss his father, either, or this boy’s, or really anyone’s father because frankly it was the number one thing he was trying to leave behind, so he left a little silence between the stranger’s words and his next. ”What’s your name?” @ "What I say," What I think,
you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh They face off against each other, the frightened deer and the calming bull, but neither are looking for a fight from the other. A heartbeat of silence between the two of them, his pulse pounding in his ears from the sudden adrenaline that came with fear, but ever so slowly it begins to calm when the other stallion makes no other threatening moves. His ears begin to inch forward once more, swiveling to catch the pale stallion’s question, and at being questioned about himself he can’t help but stare at the floor, the slightest of flushes tinging his cheeks. “Um… A-Anzhelo.” He answers, stumbling over his own name, and he falls silent for a few more moments. “I, um…” He racks his brain for the tales of these lands, trying to place which God this creature might be, lurking here in the mountains of the Night Court -- and he wishes he had paid more attention, but truthfully, he’d come to this land thoroughly sick of deities. “Are you Oriens?” It’s the only one he can think who might fit. The dragonscale wrapped loosely around his neck gleams, for a moment, offering him the courage to ask. “speaking.” @El Toro  you were only a boy, when you were thrown into a war.  OH, TO BE HERE ON THE GROUND ”Am I who?” Maybe this is the some mountain hermit, infamously creepy and known to threaten little colts. Maybe he is a folk hero. Toro would like to be a folk hero. ”I don't know who uh, Oriens is, but my name is El Toro. Call me Toro. I don’t know what the “El” is for,” he mutters the last part, the absurdity of being named something he is not going sour on his ears as he says it. His tails swish. He kind of wants to leave, kind of wants to stay, wants a change of conversation but doesn’t feel right leaving Anzhelo alone on the clifftop. He huffs. He’s not sure if his next question will turn the conversation on its head again. ”What’s your daughter like?” @ "What I say," What I think,
you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh So the pale stranger isn’t some wild mountain-god, or perhaps he is simply one who hasn’t met the Native gods -- even so, it is reassuring to the young stag, when so many Godly encounters in his life have gone so wrong. “He’s, uhm… the Dawn court God, I think? I h-haven’t paid too much attention to the stories…” His gaze focuses on the floor, one dainty hoof lightly kicking at a few pebbles, because how stupid could he be, honestly? Gods were not kind, especially not to foolish mortals who thought too often about death. “Theodosia?” It surprises him to hear another ask about his daughter, peeking up briefly even as a smile plays over his lips at the mention of the pale pegasus. “She’s -- incredibly brave,” He can’t help the way his eyes light up with parental pride, rounded ears moving forward once more. “Never knew a fight she could walk away from, if it meant helping someone else.” “speaking.” @El Toro you were only a boy, when you were thrown into a war. OH, TO BE HERE ON THE GROUND
Toro flicked his ears dismissively at Anzhelo’s explanation; he didn’t really know enough about gods or Dawn or whatever else went on here and he felt strangely trapped and compelled to stay and oh, good, he’s talking about something else now—. Anzhelo smiles, Toro momentarily taken aback by the whole occurrence as the little stag’s demeanor brightens. She’s special to him, as a daughter should be, as any child should be. ”That’s a nice name,” the white stallion says, and he means it, though he is seldom one to comment on such things. Theodosia sounds like a warrior queen, cast in marble in a town square, once famous not for blood shed, but for the purpose of its shedding. ”She sounds like someone I’d like to meet.” Perhaps he thinks too much of himself in this moment, as if he is not a coward, not some whimpering idiot who would rather turn tail at a searching gaze or uncertain action than face what was really going on— Toro huffs, gaze shifting to the cave’s entrance, warm orange afternoon light bled through by long shadows. ”I don’t want to be stuck up in the mountains at night,” he says, but really, he doesn’t want to be stuck up here forever with the kind of thoughts that rattle around in the heads of boys like them. He’ll slip into the shadows as soon as he - not as soon as he can. As soon as it feels right. "What I say," What I think,
you shouldn't have to pay for your love
with your bones and your flesh He had, when he named her, never realized how fitting her name would be -- he had struggled for hours over his decision, to find a name the child within his womb would feel at-home with, one befitting the child of a god, no matter how much of a surprise that child had been at first. Theodosia: supreme gift, given by God. Perhaps originally he had never wanted this gift, but now he had found that his life was far richer with his daughter in it. “I think she'd be happy to meet you, one day,” And he wonders if that day will come, and if the horned stallion will still remember him then -- he doesn't expect anything to come from this meeting, just the brief feeling of companionship. He thinks he wouldn't mind if he met Toro again, however. “I can show you the path down,” He volunteers softly, sea-glass eyes glancing towards the lengthening shadows past the cave mouth. If they leave now, there was still time to reach the base of the mountain by deep dusk, no matter which side that might be on. (Would Toro head for the Night Market and the streets of the Dusk Court he had not yet been brave enough to venture? Or towards the Sun and the Court that worshipped it, the desert he'd only heard about?) “speaking.” @El Toro you were only a boy, when you were thrown into a war. I’LL USE THE LIGHT FOR MY RETURN He could think of no names. No faces. ”Take me to Day, then, will you?” And two strange sad boys head down the mountain. @ "What I say," What I think, |
