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The child is soft-spoken and polite, and it's all I can do to avoid smiling as he declares himself a Chief of the Foothills. So young, the bronze child, so new into this world and yet so responsible. When did he become a chief? What happened to the others, the ones who had been elected but never chose to visit our lands, the three races in their representation? Had they left already? Had this child taken the place of the equine? Mirage had told me of Paladin's electoral system and his desire for representation of all the ranks, equality and such, yadda yadda... all horseshit in my mind, if you'll excuse my language. If you're going to be a leader, it should be for your capabilities, not your blood.
The arrival of a dragon brings her back from her thoughts, and she realizes that she's been staring into the distance, at and through the spotted colt and into the recesses of her mind. "A chief?" I ask, black eyes drifting from the child and over to his dragon - and again, I find myself withing Kali was here. "And how did you rise to this position, Jackal?," I ask gently, wry humor and honest curiosity in my tone. It doesn't matter immensely to me, but it does matter in my assessment of the Foothills and their politics - and the knowledge, like all knowledge, is valuable.
A sudden gust of wind plays roughly with the ivory strands that dangle before my eyes and tickle my cheek. I frown at the boy, and bite my lip. It is good that he doesn't know. The fewer who know of the disadvantages we stand at, the safer we will be. On the other hand, this colt - Jackal - wants to strengthen the ties between our herds. The Foothills have ever been our allies; as allies, do they not deserve to know how plagued we are by the Basin? Indecision plays a faint tune across my brow, but I do not represent it to the world except with the slightest crease of an ear, the flick of a tail. Where is Mirage?
Luckily, I am saved from answering immediately by the arrival of another. Ink's presence is always a welcome one, and now more than ever I feel a wave of fondness for the boy who followed me here. A smile tugs across my lips as I turn to watch my lanky companion, subtly brushing my shoulder against his own in greeting.
Emboldened, I return to the colt. "To answer your question, Chief, Mirage is unfortunately indisposed at this time." Smooth lyrics do not leave space for questions, do not break in the face of my own troubled mind. Mirage. Sister, DragonHeart, leader. I will see you returned.
I don't think I'll much like what comes next. Political affairs have never been my strong suit. "However, as I am something of a stand-in for her-" completely unvalidated by anything or anyone, but whatever "-I would be happy to address your concerns." Almost unconsciously I have pulled myself to full height, a decent bit taller than him, and the edge in my voice holds an authority that is not unfamiliar, simply underused. I am not accustomed to representing others, let alone a whole herd. Do I enjoy the responsibility? No I wouldn't, not really. But the colt doesn't need to know that. He just has to know that I am in control.
Amused by the entire situation, I soften, and smile.
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