A P O L L O

And how can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms

Terror caused his frame to tremble as he stepped forward, his hooves sinking almost frightfully into the sand beneath him. The granules gave way easily beneath his bulk, shifting and sinking downwards... The stallion's breath hitched, eyes nearly bugging from his skull, and for a moment he was completely stationary. Nostrils flared wide and wild, honey-brown orbs staring forward without seeing... Terror washed through him like the taste of a bitter poultice, memories plaguing his mind and robbing him of the 'then and there'.

"Run! Get to shore!" Water sloshing, waves crashing, so cold and numbing... Wolves barking, teeth gnashing, poisonous clouds enveloping them as the tendrils the size of two or three horses in the ocean thrashed back and forth in the ocean like headless worms....

Panic. All consuming panic. And a hint of rage. "Let her go!"

Horrors had happened here. This place... This cursed, terrible place. Why had he come back here?! What had drawn him to this damned part of Helovia?!

Over his panic, hidden from his frantic mind, the waves crashed peacefully against the shore. Where the sound might bring comfort to one, to Apollo, it brought nothing but horror. He remembered the terror he had felt on what was supposed to have been a calm, collected day. The impromptu play-date that he and Phaedra had scheduled, all those seasons ago... Back when Apollo knew that the earthy-toned Pegasus had still liked him.

Ever since foal-hood, Apollo had always had a profound fear of the water. The thought of drowning, of being pulled beneath the water as the air was sucked out of his lungs, imagining the horrors that lurked beneath the placid waves... It was terrifying. Bloody terrifying, and something that he expected no one else to understand. His fears had only been sanctioned by the arrival of that damned horror show, that monster from the deep. Seasons had passed, and yet... It was something that he could not forget, or let go.

A breeze passed him by, caressing his face and toying with the strands of his mane and tail. It was still chilly, but... Perhaps that was from his fear. A sigh escaped the stallion from his stationary position upon the sand, his hooves covered by the pale granules, and he showed no signs of moving any time soon. His muscles were tensed and bunched as if ready to turn and flee, and Apollo had to suck in many a deep breaths before he could even begin to relax. This place... This terrible place...

"I should leave," he murmured to no one but the heartless waves, "I should go. This place is not for me." Subconsciously he was nodding, the handsome form of his head bobbing slightly up and down, his eyes distant and away. It was clear, simply by looking at him, that the overo was not all there. Fear had robbed him of his mind as he stood along the beach, the unforgiving expanse of the ocean at his head.

It was as he was turning to seek the safety of inner land, his muscles finally unlocking themselves, that he spotted a figure slumped in the sands, closer to the churning waves. Apollo paused, his breath hitching once more, but from a completely different reason. Eyes quinting, he could barely make out the form of the mare who had decided that the beach was a 'lovely' place for a nap, and then realized it was Antheia.

Apollo recalled their last visit clearly, and gave a snort. The kind and caring medic in him said to go to her, to make sure that she was well... But Apollo the Merciful, the Chief, wanted to leaver her be. She had picked her own path, condemning him for his... And yet the concern for an old friend won out. With a harsh sigh and a roll of his eyes, Apollo stepped forward through the cursed sand, yet didn't venture any closer than two or three paces. He would simply make sure she was well, and then go home. Yes, that was a good idea.

He was still a ways from Antheia, but he stretched his neck out and spoke, calling out her name. All the while his honey-brown eyes glared at the churning waves of the ocean in accusation.

"Antheia? You might want to find somewhere else to rest your head... Sleep here and the monsters of the sea will have you as lovely snack."

A P O L L O

And how can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms

Before his eyes, Antheia woke and greeted him with a smile, before pushing herself upright and to her feet. The stallion eyed her warily for a moment, clearly uncertain, and just for good measure he sized her up. The medic in him would never be able to turn away someone who could possibly be hurt... It was something he had noticed since obtaining his healing abilities.

Still, as his eyes roamed over the ebonite mare, Apollo couldn't help but notice the slight bulge in her stomach. It was minute, barely there, but... Goodness, was Antheia pregnant? The thought caused his mind to tilt, thinking back to their brief meetings they had shared in the past. Never had she mentioned there being a stallion that had caught her fancy, and honesty the Chief didn't take her as the type to simply have a one-night-stand with someone, like some of the mares in Helovia. The thought caused Apollo to grimace and nearly scoff, but he refrained. Hopefully Antheia wasn't like that.

As the dark mare steadied herself and began to move away, thankfully further from the churning waters of the ocean, Apollo hesitated before following her. There was something amiss, and despite his uncertainty about Antheia, the black and white overo was curious to discover what it was. The stallion's frame followed a short distance behind the mare, tail snapping left and right, hooves sinking downwards in the granules of sand with each step that he took... But luckily he was further from the suffocating waves of the damned ocean. Apollo spared the liquid a look of contempt.

Stay.

A snort, and then Apollo's eyes found Antheia once more. Extending his steps, he moved to stand beside her and glanced almost hesitantly to her face. "Antheia?" He questioned, questions brimming in his head. Did she hate him? Did it bother him that she might? The thought that she might caused his chest to twinge, but in what? "I, well... I apologize, I suppose, for how I acted when we last met... But I hope you would understand; there truly was nothing that I could do. I was snared by the laws of my herd, and the laws of my family."

The stallion sucked in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly and almost pensively through his nostrils. "Do you hate me for it?" There. The question was honest, blunt, and Apollo asked it as emotionally void as he could. How many friends had he lost since coming to Helovia, living the life of a mercenary? Would he lose Antheia, too...? Or had she even been a friend to begin with? The questions were abuzz in his head, but the only one who could answer stood in front of him now.

A P O L L O

And how can you say that your truth is better than ours?
Shoulder to shoulder, now brother, we carry no arms

It did not take long for Apollo to receive an answer to his rather melancholic question, but the words that Antheia uttered caused the stallion's head to snap upwards at attention. What? He had been expecting hate. Anticipating it, almost. For did Antheia not look beyond livid that day in the Foothills, when she had sought him out and had been turned away by Ktulu? Apollo wouldn't have been surprised if Antheia did hate him but this... This, he didn't know how to handle.

Antheia had cut herself off, seemingly unable to control the words that flowed from her mouth, but the shocked expression that the mare wore upon her face said it all. She... She what?

She loved him?

The stallion blanched. Never before had anyone spoken such words to him, aside from the love that Andreas had bestowed upon him. Yet they were blood, brother and sister, and their love was resolute with the boundaries of family running between them. And yet here, Antheia, admitted her love for him, and Apollo's mind was reeling. Was it... A love between friends? Did she love him like a sister? Or... Was it true, unabashed, heart-sickening love?

Who would love him? He was nothing special. A wanderer turned spy, turned medic, turned Chief, perhaps, but there was nothing special about him. He was not unexplainably beautiful like Phaedra or the massive number of mares who traipsed these lands, or incurably handsome like so many stalwart stallions that wandered Helovia. He was just... Apollo. And yet here Antheia was, admitting her love for him. How in the hell was he supposed to come back to that?

"I... Antheia, I..." His lips opened and closed, words fumbling, and the overo was certain he looked like a fool, lips flapping like an idiot and standing there with a flabbergasted look upon his face. What did he say? What was he supposed to say? That he loved her, too? The thought caused Apollo's head to jerk back and a hoof slid backwards in the sand, putting the smallest of distances between them. Did he?

No... No, I don't. The realization was both relieving and so terribly heartbreaking at once. Perhaps somewhere in his heart, Apollo did care for Antheia, but not as a lover. A friend, perhaps, or a distant relative, but nothing more. He simply didn't know her.

"I'm flattered, Antheia... I truly am, and I am so very grateful that you do not hate me." He paused, sucking in yet another breath. It was a good thing that the world had enough air to go around, or Apollo feared he'd be hoarding it all. "I don't really know what to say... I mean, I do care for you as well, but as a brother would care for a sister. I... I'm sorry."

@[Antheia]