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His expression is inscrutiable as his son speaks, noting the boy begin to rock. Despite himself, the beast's stone heart begins to pound; as Farkas' story finishes, he finds himself lost for words. Trizia had been just another mare with a willing womb for him to fill with the seed of a new generation - he had been fond of each and every member of his herd, but even the dams of his children had been no more than helpful vessels, for him to protect and monopolize but never love. Yet whenever he saw one die, whenever he saw one's life brutally ended by the blade of a unicorn or the wing of a pegasus...it killed him a little inside. He felt for them, far more than he should - and, now, he feels for Farkas' mother. It is even worse because he was not there to avenge her, or defend her - she died because he was hiding out in the wilderness, protecting his newly-regressed dragon.
Shame burns in his scarred cheeks and his massive head momentarily hangs, before snapping up to meet his son's, expression turned back to cold stone despite the fire that blazes in his eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that. She was a fine woman." Despite himself, there is emotion in his voice; a clear lament for her death. "Tell me of the winged mongrels who took her." He needs details; should he ever venture out of Helovia again he knows without a doubt that he will hunt the scum down and destroy them. Winged abominations are bad enough; ones that kill equines only increase the bounty over their heads. It takes a moment for the titan to calm himself, dragging in a deep breath before he speaks again. "Myself and Confutatis, we are to build an empire, Farkas, and you will be part of it. With my guidance, you will become great - our regime will see to that. But before I give you further information, I need you to swear to me on pain of death that you will divulge nothing to another living soul." His grey gaze is stern, unyielding, his eyes like chips of flint as he looks at the pale young stallion. "You are my son, Farkas, but a traitor is a traitor." The threat of his words hangs between them like a curse. |
[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
