Their children will learn to hope for a Caesar.
words
The late hour usually brought an air of serenity to the beach, which was undisturbed by all but me. Cantering down its pale length, the sea sloshing its rhythmic noise alongside me, an occasional shell clattering away from the strike of my hooves, everything seems as if it will be right in the world, at least for the time being. My heart beats steadily in my chest, the air is cool, and inviting as I draw it into my nostrils with deep, hearty inhalations, and my brain clear of all but the machinations of my limbs; occasionally, I also notice the silver ribbon on the sea, which the Moon casts.
So, when a pale, winged figure rises into view, steadily meandering her way down the beach towards me, I slow my pace, and snort my obvious displeasure at my late, late night run being interrupted. Pretty sure it’s who it is before I can even really make her out (the peculiar shuffle, lean of the figure’s step is a dead give away), I almost wait for her to come to me, until I remember how things had gone the last I’d seen her.
An ache in my tissues flares up again, in memory of her arrows. Narrowing my eyes at the horrid bow slung to her side, I can’t help but wonder if she’ll be man enough, so to speak, to face me after what had happened. Though I tend to forget the slights before the skirmish, and most often forgive the scuffles themselves, no matter how dastardly their outcome, I also know that many others are not so quick to let go of a warrior’s tribulations as I am.
So, picking back up my pace, and spurring it into a gallop, and narrow in on her with all the speed I’ve got, hoping to insight a bit of fear on her face. Sliding within ten feet of her, creating an arc of gritty sand and a deep, damp rut in the beach itself where my legs tear through it, my halt is accompanied with a smirk, that disguises the mourning thinly hidden beneath.
I am not the sort to not want the upper hand, you know!
"Erthë!" I greet her, an ear falling back and a snort clearing the dust from my nostrils as I right my wildly splayed legs, and close the distance between us with long limbed steps, "still limping about I see."
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