Quilyan

He has a job, and it is quite simple: protect the herd. It has become his mantra, and though he is not much of a fighter and hasn't particularly excelled in battle - he remembers, with a wince, his broken wing, his feverish flight to save Resplendence, his too-close-for-comfort brush with death - he has found himself able to assist in other ways. Secrets are a trade with which he is familiar, having lived in quite the market for them in the Royal Palace of Th'orqui. He wonders if he could have been better, could have searched harder, could have uncovered the Anarchists if he had only known what to look for - but no. They avoided him, wouldn't have allowed him to catch a whiff of their plans even if he had known where to look, who to ask, what to listen for. Here, though, he is not restricted by his pedigree. Here, he can go where he wants, talk to who he wants, and they would never be the wiser for it. Here, he can be anyone he wants if it means saving his family.

He wonders if his family will ever grow. Of course, he has Resplendence, his mate (though they have yet to truly confirm the title, if you know what I mean); he has Kaj, who is the closest thing to a brother that he has anymore, and is in many ways closer to the deposed prince than his brothers by blood were; he has Nasreen, who is his true sister. And, of course, he has Zarina, his companion, the other half of his soul. She is now curled upon his withers, entangled in his banner to ensure she does not fall. Not that he would let her. His wings cup her gently, holding her in place. She has woken from her sleep, though, having sensed his discomfort, the way responsibility chafes at him, the way he doubts himself. You are perfect Specter, she assures him confidently. And you have me. He smiles slightly at that, and the gesture lifts his spirits.

A stallion slips into the small clearing in which the Specter has chosen to wait. The newcomer is only slightly shorter than the prince, and must have been a pegasus once, judging by the scars on his shoulders. Quilyan's mouth tightens almost imperceptibly; anyone who could cause such pain is an enemy, though of course he does not know the story behind the burns. For all he knows, it could have been a freak accident that took the steed's wings from him. In any case, he bows his head respectfully in return to Hamaliel's greeting, and when their eyes meet again, he smiles. "Well met, Lee," he says. "I am Quilyan, Specter. I suppose it is just you and I working in the shadows for now, hmm?" He chuckles softly, the sound full of easy warmth. "I would like to talk with you today about how we are to keep this herd safe. We do, of course, have warriors, but they are only useful when you know where to use them - which is where you and I come in.

"I'm sure you know that our job is to intercept any hidden threats. I would like to hear your opinions on how we can best do that. I have my own ideas, of course, but this is hardly a dictatorship, and I believe that it is important for us to both be on the same page. The most obvious of our duties is ensuring that our family remain in this land - none of our brethren will be taken captive on our watch." He frowns at this. "So to do that, we will need to monitor not only what goes on within our borders, but what goes on outside our borders. We will need to talk to everyone, to see everything - difficult with only two of us, but not impossible, not if we tap into other resources within the herd. Patrols can listen, explore, report back to me, even if they aren't quite in our line of work; that sort of thing. Do you have any thoughts?"

"Talk talk talk."

Words ::
Tag :: @[Hamaliel]

[I'm so sorry this took so long omg I fail so hard at life x.x]