Paladin came forth at Mirage's call, but his heart did not come with him. The battle with his son on these very grounds had left him in shadows. Old rituals and respect for her leadership were the only reasons why the weary warrior made his appearance, as disheveled and grizzled as it was. In his old age, the stallion had grown a rather impressive charcoal and silvery beard. Though is body was still strong, he lacked the detailed musculature of his youth, and he knew that the natural way of things was quickly catching up with him. Soon, he would not be fit to be called a Protector any longer.
And what had he left behind? A son who defied every purpose of his life since he had fled the wicked ways of his father? Two mercenaries for daughters? Fighting without though to love and life but to profit? What legacy was this? Perhaps that is why he looked so aged and so broken as he emerged, twigs and leaves stuck in his mane, the scars on his body somehow more prominent. The side of his face and neck that was scarred from Gossamer's dragon had faded to white, gnarled scars that marred his already disturbing appearance.
The Moonlit Tides, covered in shades, still called to him like a siren. Perhaps that would be his heaven, his Elysium at the end of his life. He could only hope so.
Too many dragons. The stallion stood at the edges of the land, leery of their wicked faces and sharp talons. One of them he recognized though from a long time ago, Evangeline. The chestnut mare had been the one to call Validino's heart from his position as warrior in the Tides, and the stallion smiled a little bitterly. How had that worked out for her? He shouldn't be so cruel, but it was getting harder and harder to suppress the stallion he used to be before he ran away from Dorngarrow.
New faces caught his attention for a moment, and his crimson eyes looked over them with suspicious scrutiny. Wasn't it his job to be suspicious? To be judgmental? To protect the herd?
Mirage's words about the Basin wanting peace reached his ears, and he frowned. His brother had died in that war, and for what? He felt pure hatred for the first time in a very long time toward the residents of the north, and that hatred was indiscriminate. Yes, he knew it was irrational, but he didn't give a damn.
"I doubt my sister would be interested in diplomacy," he said finally, his normally charismatic tones deepened with age and depression. Would they know Psyche was his half-sister? That they were cut from the same cloth? Raised by the same hooves? Now, he thought, we be a good time to explain just why he knew of their hearts. Paladin shifted, expression set grimly. "We come from a land whose hatred runs deeper than a petty desire to claim land," he grunted. "My father... our father... called for the eradication of all other kinds. Compromise, peace... none of those exist, only lies to prepare for the next attack."
Paladin looked to Mirage. "I know because I was one of them, a warrior for that cause. A long time ago. The same racism exists here, carried like a plague from the very thoughts of my siblings - Giselle, Psyche, and... Donovan." The black dun's expression grew suddenly very hard.
"Do not let them fool you into thinking they are suddenly benevolent after a single defeat. If I were them, I would be biding my time and hardening my armies for the next battle."
The stallion cast a glance in the crowd before falling silent, standing as a pillar of strength, a wise elder of knowledge, keen to continue learning from his failures that piled behind him like the bodies of his enemies. Too many of those skeletons were pegasus.
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[O] Speak Now [ Activity Check - Compulsory Herd Meeting ]
