Something or someone? he asked me. I couldn’t stop the softest of snorts from leaving me; I mean, come on. The question was so obvious—the answer was so evident--that it almost wasn’t worth an answer. “Yes,” I said, because I’m a jerk and I can’t just keep the shit to myself. For all I know it was an honest question—didn’t need to be rude to the bastard, the one good thing about the sentinel-guarded valley that was my—

--my what? Birthright? Inheritance? Like my Pa would give a rat’s ass that I was his daughter—like he would give me the shit on a silver platter. I didn’t even know the place.

He asked me about the north, and the…trend…I had noticed about this frozen desert. Things that I couldn’t stop thinking about whenever the wind nipped harshly and the drops of water froze immediately on whatever it touched. He had unknowingly tapped into a trove of memories I didn’t really care to think about right now—but I thought of them anyway, even as he started shooting a barrage of questions my way. “Uh—“ I said, kinda floundering under the tidal wave in inquiries: Stallion? Engineers? Fools? “I guess stallions,” I said with a shrug, “and uh…maybe fools too but I can’t really tell. I don’ know you like that.” I was smiling something crooked--I didn't realize it at the time-- and if I did, I probably would have flayed myself alive. I couldn't help it. Blue eyes had a way of doing that to me.

But then he kept talking and the smile faltered because it was getting kinda unnerving with all these words that were pouring out of some stoic, hairy beast of a man, but at least he was answering my question:

*“I am here because I am undecided. I could return to my herd and my life while ignoring the collective ‘fuck you’ I was given for returning a body I did not kill, or I could return to keep tabs…”*

I raised my brow. On…? was the question in my eyes. But the bastard kept talking—

*“Or, I could go ensure that I am not an enemy though I set myself up as much…I take slight umbrage with that, however…”*

I stilled, tensing a little even as you burrowed deeper into my mane for warmth. I wasn’t playin’ the fool—I knew exactly what he was talking about, something that made a fire light inside chest and my stomach grumble in such a sick, sick way. I couldn’t shake the memory of those two lil’ babies all teary-eyed in the meadow; I couldn’t escape the vow I had made them to kick the nearest ass I could get ahold of. I still held myself to that promise.

So what the fuck was I doing in the north, so far north, so far away from the Foothills Falls? I don’t know, I already said that. I couldn’t fucking tell you. It was a mix of too many things that became too convoluted to sort through.

*“Why am I the ‘bad guy’ just because I am more skilled?”*

How am I the good guy by thinking about terrorizing my Pa’s herdland?

He was asking me questions—deep things that wrapped around us both, trying to
suffocate and drag us down into the permafrost. Questions that could whirl in your head and keep you up at night if you let ‘em. “Bein’ skilled don’t make you the bad guy,” I said; my brain was too numb with convoluted things to really think about his questions. It was my mouth that let the words flow—whatever came to my throat and tongue, I let it loose. “Bein’ powerful wasn’ never a bad thing. It’s motive, it’s all reason to it.”

I looked up to him (shit he was kinda tall), into bronze eyes that sparkled with a brilliance that didn’t really match the rest the grease monkey he was. “Because for y’all,” I said, my voice low, steady, careful in a way that was new to me, cold to me, “for y’all it was all about winning. For them it was about life. It was a game, a plot, a design that y’all probably worked on for—“ sour things rose up in my throat, “—for I don’t even know how long. Them? They just woke up one morning and suddenly they were attacked. Surrounded on all sides and watching their parents fight, their Ma get hurt, and confused as to why.”

I let the breath fall from me in a rough sigh/snort, noticing for the first time that my blood as started to boil, warming me a little in this climate. I tried to shake it off; I wanted to keep talking to Ulrik and picking a fight was one way to chase someone off. “Hell, I don’t know why you should worry about someone else’s feelings. Cuz’ you’re right; the world just doesn’t give a fuck. It’s cold and harsh and stupid and everyone buddy’s up to fight a tragedy and the minute it’s over they decide to turn on each other and fight because—“ I snorted again, “—because I don’t even know why.” The blood was pumping again; I started pacing back and forth, trying, trying to keep myself from flying off the handle.

I slowed slightly, but my nerves still jumped and I was still moving, walking a slow figure eight. "So" I finshed, "Why do you care?" I paused, chewing my tongue and my lip. “...Ulrik,” I asked, my voice soft and gravelly, even lower than before, “why was the Falls attacked?”



"talk"
@[Ulrik]

Quit Hollerin' "Why God?", he ain't got shit to do with it.