when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see

The cold reception was unexpected, to say the least. No matter how subdued the reaction was, something in the boy’s face radiated indifference as he turned to regard the approaching figure, a bitterness in his gaze that was then focused upon the ocean before it had the chance to stop Roland in his tracks. The Thief tried not to be bothered by it, though he couldn’t help wondering if he should have left Caneo alone. Perhaps he wanted nothing to do with the Basin and its citizens. The silence was not suffocated by ecstatic greetings or useless platitudes; instead Roland heard his own name murmured in the boy’s familiar voice, and for all he grasped at any hint of emotion to be found in those few syllables, there was none.

He was rewarded with little time to contemplate the boy’s reaction before another question fell into the tense space between them. Roland did his best to hold back a smile as he watched the boy narrow his eyes, fixing a suspicious gaze upon the water as it swept along the beach, stirring shells and seaweed in its wake. The Thief curled his tail against his hocks, stepping forwards as he turned to watch the waves roll up towards them and tumble backwards in a white blur of sea foam. “Nothing,” he responded, amused. “The ocean is full of salt. Some believe its waters to be very pure.”

Do not drink it, he doesn’t add. Any creature that has stumbled across the sea has tasted it, to sate their curiousity. But regardless of how pure it was thought to be, it was no healing elixir. The rhythmic hiss of waves over sand was soothing though, and it was enough to distract Roland as he stood in contemplative silence at the boy’s side, looking out to the horizon and the dark smudges of gulls as they wheeled through the air. The wind tugged at his mane, sea spray chilling his legs.

An excuse, not entirely unexpected, tumbled quietly from the boy’s lips, and whether it was the truth or not, Roland didn’t have the energy to investigate. He had no business in Caneo’s life or decisions, even if he would be pleased to have the chance to know him better. So he did not pry, simply nodding in acceptance as he studied the sand that crumbled wetly around the edges of his hooves.

It pained Roland to hear the confession that followed, knowing how strongly that sentiment was echoed within his own heart. A feeling of estrangement had always accompanied him in the Basin. He did not fit in with the war hardened soldiers, nor could he ever find a place amongst the benevolent healers and scholars. Roland was not wholly good, not pure or absolved of sin. He was stained. Guilt and remorse weighed heavily upon him every day, and he has never taken a life like some, but he has played with and altered far too many. Those that had grown close to him might find him to be kind, perhaps even reliable, but he doubted his capacity for such virtues. The best way to fool others was to also fool yourself, and yet even if Roland had come to believe he could be better than what his past had defined him to be, he knew he would never be rid of those scars. A storm of lies and deceit followed in his path, and even if he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t let go. He didn’t want to.

Roland thinks they might have more in common than he’d realized at first. But Caneo is better. He is still young, and even if the Thief knows nothing of the boy’s past, he is an innocent in comparison to the things Roland is responsible for. He would like to believe that, at least.

“I’ll be sorry to see you go,” he admitted quietly, withholding any tribulation from his voice. Never mind that he seems to have bad luck with new recruits. “But if you are not happy in the Basin, then you will find better things out there.” The Thief was certain of it. He glanced over his shoulder, back the way he came, where the sparse grasses bent against the breeze and his own hoof prints left deep marks in the sand. “Do you know where you will go?”