I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather be a superb meteor,
every atom of me in magnificent glow,
than a sleepy and permanent planet.
– Jack London

“Greetings” he said, more of a reflex at hearing his name spoken within the boundaries of the World’s Edge than an actual salutation. Smoldering eyes land upon Kou’s pristine form emerging from the trees and he wonders over such a pretty mare, holding the title of nurse, taking such pains over her appearance in the remains of their home. Did she is truly find the ashes so repulsive? In his opinion, nurses shouldn’t be opposed to getting their hands dirty, so to speak. Cineviam might have to be careful, if he should ever get hurt, the blood combined with the grime of his own ashes might leave her unwilling to treat him.

Her attendance does not surprise him. The doctor was here and Cineviam supposed it was her duty not to stray too far in case an emergency arose. He does make a special note of the mutual touching between the health care providers, especially d’Artagan’s awkwardness and he makes a revision to his earlier assumptions. Perhaps Kou was so conscious of her appearance because she was trying to get the Doctor to see her as more than just a nurse. It mattered little to the salt and peppered beast, he didn’t take part in rumor-mills, only wanted to know his herd members better. What drove them to do the things they did. These were the soldiers he would be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with should the Edge ever go to war.

The newcomer said all the right things, in all the right places. Cineviam nodded his noble head, the black powder fluttering from his thick mane, when the stranger spoke directly to him. Every word further cemented his judgment that this tawny-gray stallion belonged here amongst his own kind. Even d’Artagan seemed to like Zar’roc, nodding in approval and reminiscing of this Anarore. The place held no special meaning to the soot-stained stallion, although it sounded like a land where his mother might have spent time before moving on to where Cineviam was born. Zar’roc could even be extended family; he certainly looked the part – red eyes, draft blood, unicorn trappings – but it would do nothing to garner his favour. Blood ties left a sour taste upon his mottled black tongue, the memory of his mutinous brothers tearing asunder a great empire.

Zar’roc looked like he had seen a ghost.

A simple invasion shouldn’t give a warrior such a haunted look in his eye; it sent an ominous pinprick creeping up the ashen stallion’s spine. For the moment, he did not wish to learn any more of these shades and is almost grateful when d’Artagan mentioned calling the king. “Why wait?” he asked with a shrug – both shrugging off the goosebumps and indicating he had nothing else to add.

i.cineviam
ii.unicorn
iii.6 years
iv.edge stallion
v.created by blu
vi.adopted by taurus