Experience is the one thing Öde cannot just simply have like he assumes with everything else. He knows that such a thing only comes with time. He knows he must wait, and it drives him mad. How ironic he doesn't yet know of his future where he will have more time than he could ever spend and more experience than he would ever want.

Life is funny that way. It lets us squander our desires when we need them least, then drowns us in them.

Reginald continues and Öde is captivated, as most anything is apt to do in his youngest of young days. The world remains like an unturned rock, where even grass is a surprise for Oblivion's sake. Even so, Reginald is interesting with all his experience, although Öde begins to think it is far less than the older colt let's on. He speaks of making things bow rather than telling them to and Öde wanted to ask how, but held his tongue. Reginald didn't know, did he? If he did he would have made the clouds bow long ago, rather than telling Öde they wouldn't.

Öde glanced back one last time across the side of the cliff, staring out impassively at the rebellious curls of moisture and air. Then he turned away from them, much more interested in the horse before him born with knees.

"Not now," Reginald answers, swiftly laying claim to his future post. How alike the two were, and for that, how miserable their relationship would be. A tether was already forming between them, bound in blood and ash and greatness. The sparkle of that last trait was all Öde could ever see, and it was all he cared about. Blood and ash were always to be found, even in the most desolate of places, but the shine of success only glinted off crowns.

Öde smiled.

The movement pulled his lips in a subtle flicker which moved the lines of his face nonetheless. The red of the veins that sprawled around his eyes like the hands of dead trees wriggled, as if alive with a pulse of their own. "I'll make sure of it," Öde replied, insinuating he would keep Reginald alive and ranked beside him in his worldwide conquest and subsequent empire. Of course it could be taken in any manner of ways, but Öde had not yet learned the nuances of tongue or flesh. His words were simple, his intentions buried.

Reginald asked him a question now, which Öde did not hesitate to answer. In fact, his chest might even have puffed up a tad. "Here," he spoke with an assurance colored by pride. This was his kingdom, or so mother said... he realized with a fresh bout of hesitation. If what Reginald said was true, was this really his, or just what she wanted to be his? He wanted it too of course, but they had yet to be tended by a servant, or anyone really. They kept to themselves, almost secretive. Öde frowned. "Or more to say, the north. One day though, I will be able to call this all home."