Paladin's warrior senses were ingrained into his very soul, always a part of him and unwilling to let go. Years of war and bloodshed would do that, make you look over your shoulder at the slightest whisper of the wind and start at the crack of thunder. So, when his half sister made her way into the clearing, she did not have to speak for him to know that she was there. He turned his head over his shoulder to look at her, the vacancy in his crimson eyes wide enough to swallow the world.
The stallion snorted sarcastically at her words, shaking his head in amusement. What cruel irony that here, at the end, they would switch places. "Funny," he rumbled. "I was about to tell you the same thing." He regarded her fractured horn emptily and the way she dipped her head. The world had broken then both, it seemed.
He still leaned against the tree, his nonchalance uncharacteristic of his borderline dramatic chivalry. In the presence of and lady, he would bow, even for his jackal of a half-sister, but now, he barely shifted his head around to give her a look. The bones in his body creaked and groaned with his movement, so staying still against the bark was a welcome reprieve from the daily pain. He wondered, absently, if she felt the same or if his body had been more frequently abused.
"I fought so long against our very nature," he grunted, snorting. "And for what? A ruined body, paranoia, and war." Paladin shook his head, shaking his scarred neck where his mane once toppled over his crest like a wave. Now, it was just a brush of white. "Father was right you know. All of this is in our blood, and we can't shake it. I was a fool to try and have simply contributed to the same cycle through my children and my actions."
Paladin looked at her with a smile on his face that was anything but joyful. "You were right."
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