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It had been five long years since the damage had been done, but still the scars left by cruel words and callous abandonment felt raw; they ran deep through him. He wore carefully the mask of indifference, a gift taught by none other than the short and sharp Resolute, and presented himself in such stoic fashion that no other would surely see the pain stewing beneath. Born into royalty though cursed from the start, Hector had been shunned by those closest; the family he had only wished so desperately to please. He’d been too large, a thorn they had called him, amongst the finest of roses, and their bitterness stained his confidence; the self-loathing began, and it ran rampant through him until Kri had given him new purpose; instilled both faith and her confidence in him.
He’d seen a side of the fierce, masculine mare that most had not the opportunity to.
In the years that followed Hector grew in strength and confidence, and he pledged his service to the mare who’d given him a chance; to the desert and the Sun. He bettered himself in her shadow, fighting to impress his new family and preserve the alien sensation of warmth and belonging. That was until the Resolute vanished, and his self-belief was shaken as the Throat descended into the throes of confusion. That had been the beginning of his internal shift- when his furious will to fight began to waver. For months he continued on bravely down the same path, sparring those brothers-in-arms he’d come to trust so loyally; it was all the copper beast had ever known, serving both Midas and Gaucho as they brought the herd back from despair.
But always there was new niggling doubt, and waning desire to throw himself into battle.
Hector saw the flames from a distance and felt his stride falter, the aching uncertainty sweep through his core. This quest would see him find the direction that was both lost and missed; he felt helpless, like his purpose in the herd was amiss, and could only pray that Cera might would be able to help. He needed to find what was most important to him, but knew not where to start. The only thing flaring through his mind whenever he paused to consider was this burning world and the souls living within it, and the stallion wasn’t sure what that meant. Perhaps also, he was uncomfortable with the prospect of finding out he’d not finished his time in the army.
The painted Diviner landed, and as Hector came to a halt before him and the flaming shrine (a respectful distance between), a small almost timid smile broke the weight of his dry expression- he dipped his horned skull. The small auburn-tinged panda moved nearer to his companion and rust-red eyes followed him thoughtfully for a moment. Not overly skilled with social encounters he mumbled,
"I... need some guidance..." before glancing back to the familiar young face of Midas’ son. He was the epitome of this landscape; Hector thought such a role fitted him perfectly- he wished only that he might find himself so well placed that he might be of some greater benefit. He cleared his throat.
"I am trying to find what is most important to me."
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