Almost two years the old stallion has lived in Helovia, though usually cloistered away in the Aurora Basin like one more rusting, lifeless effigy of times gone past, and though the idea of gods, living or otherwise, was something of an adjustment to his heavily logic based mind, already he’s met – or at least seen from a short distance - three of the four patron deities and witnessed the birth of a fifth only last season. Even so, he knows very little about the Helovian Ancients, and that combined with the obvious authority they hold over the four – now three – herdlands is unsettling.

The unknown is a frightening thing, so he sets off to learn a little more about these reigning powers, having already seen and studied the etchings and murals in the Heart Caves and learned from some of the natives that there are shrines located not much farther south of there. He moves slowly, wary of the waves that continually wash across the low stones of a makeshift bridge connecting the archipelago to the mainland, his eyes torn between mapping out a traversable route and sweeping up to scan the fascinating surroundings.

The Veins is an impressive meeting of elements with its verdant jungles, stony crags, and white capped waves all ringing what appears to be the main event; an enormous volcano mound complete with billowing smoke and vents in the surface that reveal shimmering, blistering flows of magma moving far too close to the surface for an old stallions liking. He skirts around these pits, though he’s appreciative of the permeating warmth they provide, and continues to follow the thin, unkempt trail toward the summit.

When he reaches it, winded and with head hanging low in his efforts of climbing, he isn't expecting anything but the four shrines to be standing in front of him. That something else is standing in front of him is alarming for about half a second, until the bay stallions head turns and the silvery white of his eyes is illuminated by the fires nearby.

"Hello." He calls, not wanting to startle the stranger and stifling a sudden surge of panic from his companion who sits wrapped around one twisted, backswept horn, the arrival of some sort of eagle setting the young pythons heart to hammering. One of the stallions ears flicks back, his thoughts splitting between trying to sooth the snake and trying to articulate himself to the bay.

"Doesn't that hurt?" He asks, nodding toward the birds grasping talons, realizing too late that the other stallion probably can't see his gesture. He'd asked the Indomitable the same question, though the scars across his brawny back were caused by dragon claws instead of raptor. They all look similarly painful to the black and he wonders why a bonded pair would continually cause and allow such wounds.



"Talk."
OOC // @Roux

Bah bah black sheep,
Have you any soul?