never take advice from someone who just admitted to being devious and just confessed to treason
When he wasn’t wrapped up in the act of playing a charlatan, Roland was often seen as uneasy and wary, but when he was working a scam he was confident. He could take any idea and flesh it into a character, albeit flat; could become an angel in a harmless world or a vengeful beast seeking out a thrilling chase, all the while erasing any trace of his true self seen from the outside. The gaze he fixed Chernobyl with was not wavering or uncertain, but solid and sure, as firm as the words he spoke without pause. He did not stall or trip over his tongue, for the story had been laid out in his mind before he had even begun to speak. When he had finished, he awaited her reaction with a solemn gaze.
The black mare had seemed somewhat distant when he had begun to speak, but that didn’t deter the Phantom. When he had first stumbled across her Roland had assumed there was something else on her mind, so it was no surprise to him that the matter still vied for her attention. He smiled slightly, allowing the stiffness to leave his muscles and the flinty edge to fade from his eyes as Chernobyl finally spoke.
A slight frown creased his brow and Roland tilted his head to the side, as if that would help him find the answer that he sought. The dark mare had an intriguing way of making him think, questioning himself when he had never really given his impulses and action much thought beforehand. Troubling as it was, he found it oddly endearing; and, quite the opposite of his earlier words, his enjoyment of her company only increased with every question posed to him. Why was it that he was so comfortable being honest even around those who had given him no reason to trust them?
“Honesty is… refreshing after spending so much time spinning false stories,” he began, not so articulately. “You seem like someone I can trust, or at least you’ve given me no reason to doubt your intentions, so I can only return the favour by telling the truth.” He looked up at her and smiled. “It’s a bit of an old habit, honestly. During the war, when I was undercover on the other side, I found it easier to connect with their soldiers by telling them about myself. We shared stories on occasion, and the more they knew about me the faster they ceased questioning my loyalty. It was a useful way to bond with those I needed to manipulate, as harsh as it sounds.” His ears perked when Chernobyl mentioned the Pegasi, and he was silently relieved that she was not another racist. It wasn’t true that he immediately disliked every supremacist he met, but he felt more inclined to befriend those who were not concerned with the presence of a horn, or lack thereof.
Oblivious to the fact that the Pegasus in question was once his closest comrade and assuming it was no creature he knew, Roland cast Chernobyl a good natured grin, adding, “lucky man,” with a soft laugh. It was surprising that she would trust him with such information when she did not know what he might do with it. Already he had confessed to her that he made a habit of being untrustworthy. But he had no intentions of misusing this information, and it would be a secret kept between themselves. Love was a curious thing, though he himself had never truly found it. Roland turned his head, looking disdainfully at the curtain of snow that swirled outside of the cave’s frozen maw. “That must be difficult… living in the Basin, I mean, when so many reject the other races.” Each word breathed into the open air manifested as steam, a pale smoke blossoming into existence when met with such a chill. The Orangemoon storms would take some getting used to, though Roland wasn’t sure if he would ever grow accustomed to the northern climate. Chernobyl herself had said that it didn’t get any easier.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
