blame it on hell's fires, and on my desires

“Well come on then!”

And just like that, he was swept off his feet, a leaf in the time-stream picked up and twirled around. With all the force of a hurricane, and all the gentleness of a lamb, she unknowingly placed his fate within her hooves—his crime a burden upon her slim shoulders. If he'd expected some probing question, hesitance at his mysterious insinuation they'd reject him, he didn't get it. It was like her happiness meter just kept going up for every moment, not caring that it was through the roof, and whenever he thought she couldn't smile any brighter she did. She spun on a dime, in a direction he knew too well, and set off with a bounce in her step. And he, he just stood there dumbly for a moment, staring at her elegant, happy figure and thinking What the hell did I just do?. Accepting her offer had been something.. like a guilty pleasure? Something stupid he shouldn't do, but wanted to anyway? A fantasy he'd somehow spoken out loud and turned into reality, and it drove a spike through his heart, a fist through his throat.

The Edge wanted him. They possibly wanted him dead. And with their biased, hypocritical shit.. they'd soak up the truth and spit it out in his face, and it would've been all for nothing. Just his heart ripped out on the forest floor. He gritted his teeth, and set off after her, extending his long legs to catch up with her. The dice had been cast, and either he held on tight for the ride, or he bolted now.

The latter was tempting, but—so was the idea of exoneration. He was tired of looking over his shoulder.

He'd done a lot of bad things, and the one crime they tried to charge him with was one he couldn't plead "guilty" to.

The journey passed, for his part, in silence. Irma had left his back to take to the skies again, Kahlua blabbered pleasantly on about this or that, and he hummed along, coming with an "oh?" or otherwise prompting her to go on, but his mind wasn't on what she said; he wasn't even sure he imprinted it to memory. It went in one ear, realized his brain was too full, and went out the other. The further they went, the more idiotic this whole crusade seemed. He had absolutely no faith whatsoever in their "justice", and no intention of laying his head down beneath an axe. Even if he had murdered Torasin, he wouldn't have wanted to die—truth to be told, if he had murdered him, he probably would've been a lot less inclined to waltz into the Edge. It.. everything would've been different. He would've been different.

And then, there it was, that gentle rise, the first, faint scent of brine. In his chest, his heart trembled, once; it knew this path, this horizon, the first hint of the Edge you came upon... How long since he'd walked this far? Since his hooves had graced this earth?

It made the danger all the more real. Perhaps they had far-ranging patrols. Perhaps he still had time to back out of this.

Are you a coward?
No. I just don't want to die.

His heart was pounding too fast again, eyes darting every which-way, waiting for them to leap out of the woodwork and encircle him—and either praise Kahlua for her capture, or berate her for consorting with the enemy.

He couldn't do it. Not this way.

“Just a little ways now. You'll love the wall, I just know it!” His mouth was dry, heart all a-tremble; his steps had slowed until he barely moved at all, but she was still a storm, so eager to bring him home. Damn; how could any creature on this wretched earth be so merry, so endearing? How was it even possible to stay that way? "Kah- wait, wait, Kahlua, wait!" He'd stopped for a moment, heart and gut turning inside out, but he forced himself to move forward again, to catch up with his black-and-white guide. Oh, curse it all to seven hells—what could he say without saying too much, without saying too little either? And why, why, did it even matter? Why was he even here? Why was he even taking this big, stupid, fat risk, when the gain seemed so incredibly slim? When had he lost all his brains and all his spine, and why, whywhywhywhy, was he afraid of them?

Maybe because once they have you.. it's up to them what happens.

He didn't like being powerless.

"I- did you know Torasin?" Somehow his voice was even, though his pulse was far too rapid and fleeting; he sought for her eyes beneath her dark forelock.