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There they come. Ricochet. His face, I notice, is a mass of pink flesh and gray scarring, and his coat is shaggy and weighed down with heavy winter fluff. A collie frolicks at his heels. How did such a pairing happen, I wonder. Brutally to the point, Ricochet bites deep into the problem. Evers, may he be in good health, approaches quickly after, listening with an attentive ear, and agrees. "That sounds agreeable to me, Ricochet, Evers. It is a problem indeed- despite the many horses that claim to swell our ranks, I fear not enough are truly any good for the herd." My voice has a light burr to it- my accent is clearly not Helovian, with harsh 'r's and 'k's. I wish to speak my native tongue, which is harsh and proud unlike Horse-Unicorn-Pegasus, but it would be incomprehensible. Despite Ricochet's claim at diplomacy, his tongue does not seem as fine as Evers'. Ah, well. I'm sure the three of us can begin to rebuild and untangle. Evers, in response to Ricochet, takes up his mantle as 'warlord'. I resist the urge to laugh, which I'm sure would not put me off to a good start with my equals. Hear, hear- we all agree in the lack of horses, pegasi or unicorns, that are meant to thrive in this wondrous, lush land. The blue-skinned horned one asks after my thoughts.
Quickly, too quickly for them to notice the pause, I stop to ponder my position. I am a pegasus 'overseer'. What does that mean? The only thing I can clearly distinguish is... well... overseeing. Maybe so... I will 'oversee'. If Ricochet looks to diplomacy, and Evers to war, I will need a specific job of my own. "In response to your question, Evers, my position is labelled 'overseer'. If agreeable to you two, I should help to organize the herd ranks again and do whatever job needs done." I give a pause, to wait for their answers, before continuing. "I've noted of the herd that despite our strong warriors, we lack apprentices, a mason, or a general. I think that we should appoint a general to a herd, and Ricochet, perhaps you could search for an appropriate candidate for the mason position." My voice gives a slight rise in pitch near the end, so it becomes a question. "Evers, I am new to this herd, despite my rank, and I respect that you and Ricochet could come up with a suitable equine for general, one who will command our forces well." I try to make it inquiring, so it does not sound like I am above them. The description of my job is slightly uncomfortable, for it hints towards me overlooking all animals, which I wish to avoid. Perhaps I am reading too deeply into it. I shift my black wings. The hot muscle has quickly cooled to an uncomfortably stiff position.
"blah blah blah."
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