Ah, the days of youth.

Apollo could remember his youthful years, back in his days as a careless young colt with a stunted horn that seemed determine to not grow. A lanky, foolish thing he had been as a youngling; full of timid smiles and shy, boyish graces that he hadn't grown out of. It seemed like such a long time ago, hiding behind Andreas as a colt as the members of their deteriorating herd fought for dominance... It was a position that Apollo had never wanted to hold, and yet here he was, doing just that.

Chief is what some called him now, but he didn't feel like one. He was just a brother to his herd, an ordinary soul full of thoughts and yearnings, and that was what he wanted to be known as. In no way was he better than those who he called family; he was not smarter, stronger, or more keen than anyone else... And yet the title of Chief had been mounted upon his shoulders, and Apollo had done what he could to keep the Foothills a stable, safe haven for those who called these mountainous terrains their home.

With Mesec's warning in the days before, of the creature that had tried to attack him in the midst of the Spectral Marsh, Apollo had taken to pushing himself on his patrols. During the day, he was jovial, kind, and all laughs and smiles like usual... Yet as the sun fell and darkness swallowed his home, Apollo's demons came to play. He fretted that ghosts were beginning to run amuck Helovia, and at every strange sound or happening, the monochromatic overo would stop short, nostrils flaring, and attempt to tell himself that it hadn't been a ghost.

It was on one of these very patrols that Apollo caught sight of a familiar form; Solace, the goodly warrior who served both he and Phaedra loyally. The unicorn came up short, soulful honey-brown eyes simply watching his battle-born brother return from whatever venture had stolen him away. It was only after a moment that the Merciful realized that Solace was not alone; a young thing trailed along behind him, and her colors reminded Apollo vividly of Irrydae, their Storyteller. If Apollo didn't know any better, he might have thought the winged filly was Irrydae's daughter, simply by their similarities. Remarkable... By the Gods, how old was she? And already on her own?

Dark lips tilted upwards in a kind smile and Apollo lifted his head, nickering in a greeting to both Solace and the young filly.

"Solace!" Apollo greeted, his pace nothing more than a leisurely walk to demonstrate how very at ease he was, "Out and about once more, my brother? Have you been well?" Turning his head, the stallion's honey-brown eyes lingered upon the lavender-hued filly, offering her a kind and warm smile. In a boyish sort of gesture, he tilted his head low in her direction in a simple bow. "And greetings to you, young miss. Has our beloved Solace brought you home to the Foothills? My name is Apollo, Chief of these lands. It's an honor."