Anyone could see that Galileo had been suffering of late, but the fact he had let nobody close since he had entered these lands meant that nobody cared. He had taken to hiding himself away in what he had heard be called the Elatus Canyons on the whispers of the wind, and they had offered a private refuge for the horse who longed to be devoid of all attentions. A hermit of sorts, the stallion withered away in his palace of rock.
It had given him time (perhaps too much of it) to think, and for once he had allowed his mind's own musings. A warrior on the battlefield did not think, he felt, and he acted accordingly. He'd always left the intelligence to his younger sister, keeping occupied with honing his skills instead of flexing his brain. War waited for no one, and ran at its own pace.
Under the spell of the cliffs he had made homely, he trekked through them at his usual drifting pace. He was truly too large for some of the narrow passageways, and so struck out on the wider ones with hopes that he would not get stuck. It brought his mind to peace if he walked, and didn't stop. And so he moved onwards, round and round the canyons, finding different paths as and when he could.
Approaching a narrow passage, Galileo slowed, as he always did, and went to place his feet carefully forward. There was no daintiness about him; he was never delicate in his movements. One hoof, two hooves, and then suddenly, his body dropped forward as he missed his footing.
Leg plunging down into the rocks underneath him, he cursed as he tried to steady himself, stopping so as not to fall any lower. A sharp pain shot up his leg, and he quickly realised it was stuck, planted between the boulders. Angry at himself for being so incredibly idiotic, he attempted to pull upwards, but the pain made him wince and he gritted his teeth. Well and truly stuck, he instantly looked around for help, only to be greeted with nothing but the beauty of the canyons -- and that was not what he needed in that moment.
She had come to Solterra for want of something to do. Little did the maiden know she'd have another adventure. Keeping largely to herself for once, she was happy enough browsing for the time being. Willoughby did not place much joy in solitude however. She liked to socialize and that's what remained a stark difference between her and some equines. Like this man.
Perhaps the mare could sense pain in any form, for she was already hurrying toward his. Seeing the quiet pain on his features, she neared and stopped. Just in case he really did not want help, but he sorely needed it. “Sir, are you all right?” the maiden utters, dipping her head neatly to try and see what was exactly wrong.
She was no medic but she could help. Willoughby had seemingly come out of thin air, but the fact was she had traveled for a time and happened upon him. Like this. Needing assistance, hopefully. She liked to help others, but pain was something... Well, she never did enjoy seeing another in pain. Concern laced her pale eyes as she looked at him.
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
A tug, a pull, and once again, a stumble -- Galileo was firmly attached to the crags of the Elatus Canyon. Drawing a sharp breath every time he tried to drag his hoof free, he attempted to use his muzzle to nudge the rocks that had piled on top away. His efforts were to no avail, and he angrily snapped back around so he was facing forward, his brow furrowed in anger.
He suddenly became very aware that he was being watched, and he cursed himself for letting his guard down. It seemed to be common practice these days for Galileo to not be fully switched on and aware of his environment. Perhaps it was because he was getting older, and the warrior in him was subsiding, or perhaps it was because he no longer cared if he was in danger at any given moment. The fight or flight instincts they so spoke about in creatures? For the stallion, it did not hold weight.
Luckily, it wasn't a predator in front of him, but a lilac coloured mare. She was very pretty, if a little too delicate, like a flower petal that would be blown away with just one breath. Even if his current predicament, with her looking down on him, he still felt that he would tower above her. The look of concern on her face made Galileo feel all the worse -- the Warhammer, stuck, in a predicament, unable to move. And this dainty woman thought she could help him?
Galileo could only imagine how he looked. He hadn't been to the oasis in a week, and thus, his mane was tangled and ratty. His white legs -- that is, the three that were visible -- were stained bronze from the dirt and his golden eyes were unusually sunken.
"Ma'am," he greeted her, if a little coldly. "I am unsure if... you can help in any way. Don't trouble yourself."
He had always been a man of few words, but as he once again tried to prise himself from the canyon's jaws, he once again felt himself failing. Stubborn pride, he noted, had not ceased to be in full force.
"I'm sorry," He admitted, bending his head to make himself look less menacing. "Any help you can give would be appreciated."
Galileo did not know how to proceed, and he turned to the woman, hoping that she had brighter ideas than he.
He was a large brute. She didn't know why she didn't realize that before. Perhaps it was due to her concern, and therefore she hyper focused on only the important things? Like the fact he was stuck and in pain. Things like that. Her head slips to view the part of the canyon his hoof is in as she nears. Willoughby doesn't care about his curtness. There are more important things at stake.
“Well” she muses, scrunching her face up and stops walking to him. Her eyes raise to look him square in the eye “we could try to break the boulders” Yet she lacked magic and strength “but I doubt that will work...” She breezes by this suggestion quickly. Just in case he had a problem with it.
“Moving them then?” the maiden glances around, knowing that she could use something to... oh! There was a large wooden branch drying in the midst of the desert a few steps away. It was bleached from the sun but it should be sturdy enough. Smiling at the grumpy man she turns and approaches it, plucking it from the ground best she could.
Dragging it back, she would place the branch's end under one of the boulders. It was a tight tuck but she managed. “I'm going to try and lift this boulder up” Willoughby tells him once she's done positioning it “if you feel the pressure lessening, try to pull out your hoof, okay?”
She flashed him a supportive smile, hoping he approved of the plan.
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
He pauses to take her in again, and he squints as he looks at her. Feeling unsure about his potential saviour, he regards her carefully, watching her every move. His... vaguely insulting words seem to slip off her. Untouchable by his coldness, protected by her warmth. How long it had been since anyone had shown him even the remotest kindness.
As she mused to herself, he waited impatiently. Steadily, his leg was going numb, and it concerned him. Break the boulders, she suggested. Galileo wanted to laugh out loud. Perhaps, if it had been the other way round, and she had been in his position, that would have been his first choice. But he weighed over 1800 pounds and was more muscular than most; the mare, on the other hand, was a slender being. "No," he confirmed matter of factly, with a little salt tinging his words. "That will not work."
Galileo, he told himself. This is not how you treat a lady. You were raised better than this. The girl is helping you.
It was as if she had a sudden brainwave, for she grinned at him as she trotted off towards her solution. All he could offer back was a look that said 'what are you doing', and a sigh that was supposed to be under his breath, but happened to be slightly louder than expected.
When she returned, she explained her plan, and he nodded slowly. Yes, perhaps it could work. But he dared not admit it to himself -- he did not want to be in debt to anybody.
As she pushed against the stick, the boulder did, indeed, move. A rush of pain hit him and he let out a audible grunt, but he still followed the advice of his rescuer. Though numb, he pulled his leg out in one smooth move, and staggered backwards as he did so, ending up crashing into the canyon wall. He stayed there, catching his breath and letting the feeling return to his leg -- which it luckily did.
Peering down at his leg, it was clearly bruised internally, and had started to swell. He had expected there to be blood, but there were only minor scratches, no worse than what he had received on the battlefield.
"Well," he mused, a slight twinge of accent coming out as he let his guard down. "It appears I owe you a thank you... and... an apology."
Making eye contact with her, his amber eyes glowed with sincerity.
"It isn't often I need help, but I'm grateful you were here. Now, I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you have much to do."
The plan worked better than she thought it would. Applying pressure on the boulder, she was able to lift it just enough for the man's hoof to dislodge. With a final huff, she let the branch go. It clattered to the ground in a heavy thud, allowing the boulder to ironically roll a bit to the side. She looked up, happy to have helped.
The man had slipped back against the wall, looking frazzled. Concerned once more, her smile slipped and she took a step toward him. She didn't smell blood, but his leg was definitely a bit swollen. “For what?” Willoughby looked back to his face, puzzled at his apology.
It seemed bullshit bounced right off her.
Instead, he moves on and thanks her for helping. He seemed in a much better mood now; but she supposed she'd be grumpy if she was stuck too. “I'm just happy it worked” she declares finally, dipping her head “I would have loathed to suggest” she pauses, chuckling “cutting off your leg, you know?” It was a jest though. She would never do such a thing.
She adds; “Are you quite alright, though?”
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
When she questioned his apology, he once again frowned in her direction. She was naive, perhaps, to show so much kindness and to not be put off by his grunts and groans and cold words. Patient, too. The kind of woman he'd have liked to marry, if he had been the marrying type -- his parents would have adored her, no doubt. He was lucky in that sense, and he felt the presence of his older brother in that moment; so burdened had be been by the title of heir that he had been pushed too far. There were so many he could blame for that, but so little time to do so.
The fact she looked so pleased with herself, for a fraction of a second, sparked something in his stone-cold heart. The frown subsided.
He smiled, perhaps even let out a small chuckle as she joked with him. Conversation seemed to come so easily to her, and she spoke so lightly, the words dancing off her tongue. "Three legs suit nobody." He agreed, nodding slowly.
He paused, considering the question. Was he alright? Had he been alright for a long time? There was a voice in his head telling him not to get too existential, but there was a lot of pent up emotion in him, perhaps from even before he left his family home.
Instead, he ignores her concerns. A typical Kodarki thing, if you asked anyone who knew them. "What is your name?" He asked, once again regarding her full form.
A soft giggle leaves her muzzle. “You would look quite funny with three legs, yes” and probably hindered. Though there is no telling what a person can suffer through until they suffer. It is both sad and amazing to watch them struggle then pursue a life again. Yes, she would like to meet an equine with a disability. She would love to sing their life to anyone who would listen... A tale of persistence and learning to love again.
Bittersweet.
Snapped back to reality once the man spoke again, he asked her a direction question. “I am Willoughby, sir” she replies easily to him. There is no use hiding her name from anyone. The maiden's head tilts to the side as she regards him. “and who are you?” He seems much more at home in the desert than she seemed to be.
The maiden does not prod him for his health though. She takes note he refuses to talk about it, before moving on. “Are you part of the desert court?” Willoughby asks him now.
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
Surprisingly, it is a welcome change to have someone to talk to, and seeing as he couldn't exactly go galloping off because of his injury (and the mare seemed eager to talk), Galileo stayed. If he had been more knightly, like he once had been, he would have offered to walk her home. But, in his older age, he had become indignant in his ways, and his leg hurt. So she would have to find her own way back, if she so chose. At that moment though, it seemed she had no intention of leaving. Settling into the place he was in resting on his three other legs, the warmth of the rocks was a comfort as he leaned against them. When she giggles, he pauses. It is a gentle sound, but as distinct as dawn compared to dusk. And he smiles.
Willoughby.
A name that suited her, no less; her politeness was endearing. Names for the stallion were a thing of confusion, as he'd be known by many things throughout his time. For so long he had gone by Kodarki, his family name. His comrades had called him it, and they had been his closest friends. But now the name came tinged with guilt and regret, and lacked the promise and grandeur it once held. House Kodarki was a crumbling shadow of its former self. No, to the elegant mare before him, he would offer his true name.
"Galileo," he responded plainly. "It is nice to make your acquaintance, Willoughby."
Peering around him as she asked him questions, he wrinkled his muzzle in thought. "Mmh, not quite," he replied. "I suppose I align myself with the ruler of these lands, though I know very little about them. I haven't been here long." He didn't offer her much in way of information, but he did not yet trust her, and he was already speaking to her more than he would most, the hermit he had become.
Unaware of his troubles, she carries on brightly. “The pleasure is all mine, surely” she beams at him, remaining where she was so not to crowd the man. She dips her head briefly, repeating his name in her mind. Galileo. There is some familiarity to that name, though she can not quite place why. Perhaps it is a common name in passing... Perhaps she had heard it before.
“I see” she keeps her smile, swinging away from Galileo to allow him to walk closer if he so wanted. The wall might make for poor company, but it also could hold him up better than she could. “I have not yet met the ruler of Solterra” she tells him, glancing back “actually, I have yet to meet any ruler in Novus.” Perhaps one day she would be able to meet one.
“I suppose it does not matter, for this is not my home or court” she tells him “I come from outside of Novus. This realm is very new to me” a pause before adding; “I am what the people here call vagabond.” No formal home. No formal family. No loves but the open road and the music in her very soul to call her own.
“I should not keep you though” she smiles “you are hurt, and I bet sand is not good for the soreness. But might I trouble to go your way for a bit? It is lonely on the road alone.”
“speech”
if you don't want to see me dancing with somebody new
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