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Brienne, remembering the girl from her hatching, trilled and landed on Abraham's crest. The golden woman grasped mane and amulets, peering at the girl with brilliant green eyes. Gwyneverre landed on Abraham's poll, steadying herself with his dual horns. "Mordecai." He breathed her name, but her tone made his ears pin against his dark mane. The stallion's nose wrinkled and he wanted to spit at her hooves. "I am only a visitor in those lands as long as my siblings seek shelter there. I can leave when I want to." The thought of being trapped within the ranks of a herd made his stomach turn and his mouth taste sour. How could anyone stand it? And, why in the world was this girl yelling at him for leaving? Was...was she jealous that he had the freedom she did not, even with the wings attached to her back? The leviathan nearly scoffed at the thought; Gwyneverre, on her mantle, did.
Blackened ears flicked as Abraham picked up the presence of another. The mare, so oddly colored, stepped forth with questions the stallion thought to be idiotic. Where were they? They were in Helovia. Caught with his tongue between his teeth at the girl's ignorance, his answers were taken from his lips by another newcomer. Gwyneverre scowled above Abraham's head, mimicking his own facial expression. Brienne, however, looked on all of the strangers with a calm, impassive glance. "Abraham." He nodded at the strange new stallion, around his own age.
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
