but somewhere here in between the city walls of dyin' dreams

[ 4000 years later I actually post... ]

He had begun to dislike this place—the Thistle Meadow had never been one of his frequent haunts, and frankly, aside from being a giant banquet for the hungry horses in summer, it was just a giant, useless piece of land making the distance between all worthwhile places longer. Want to go to the Threshold? Cross the fucking Meadow. Want to go to the Veins? Cross the fucking Meadow. Want to go up to the north? Cross parts of the fucking Meadow.

Want to go to the Thistle Meadow?
.. why the fuck would anyone want to do that?

Besides, a lot of unsavory things had happened here. He had been flirted with. Hototo had died, absorbing whatever foul magic the Moon God had thrown out. He had watched Abraham murder a dying mare. He had met Delinne here, after having killed someone identical to her; him and Psyche had split said mare from her lover in this very same place. And so, the list went on and on, until the sight of its sea of purple thistle in spring and summer made him want to set the entire thing on fire.

Maybe he should do that, once the dry heat of Tallsun set in. Just go out from the World's Edge, stand.. hm, at one edge of it; he didn't want to burn along with it, because he had no idea how that would work out with his immortal soul. But yeah. Stand there, maybe near the Throat's side of it? And just sent bird after bird to ravage the grass, until the whole thing went up in a blazing inferno.

Helovia would starve, but it seemed likely the Earth God would step in and save the precious inhabitants of his realm—and if it would be enough of a transgression against the "gift" given him by the Moon God would be interesting to see. Perhaps she'd marvel at the idiot she'd promoted to immortal and kill him on the spot.

Then again, she had claimed to "act in the best interests of Helovia", and honestly, if she hadn't been able to figure out what a loose cannon Mauja was, wasn't that on her head?

He had wended deeper into the still snow-covered meadow than he had intended. The sun was already at work melting the icy crust, though the wind blew bitterly, and Mauja raised his head and peered about. He was near one of the rivers; he could hear the water tinkling around the rocks and the broken sheet of ice. Might as well go take a drink, as he was here, anyway. And then .. then what? Go home, probably.

(Wherever the fuck 'home' is, anyway.)

Frozen hooves shuffled through the lingering snow, but once he had the river in sight, life decided to thrust another uncomfortable choice into his lap. On the other bank lay a mare—dainty, by the looks of her neatly folded slender legs—and.. did what? Sunbathed? Maybe. He didn't have any single clue, but the problem was—to acknowledge her, or not? He was sort of tired of the stupid custom to sidle up to every stranger you met and saying hi, how are you, what's your name?

His dark nostrils widened as he let out a long, heavy sigh. No, fuck that; today was a godawful day and mares sleeping on riverbanks could very well handle themselves. So, with nothing indicating he had registered her presence—simply because he had no idea how to show he was willingly ignoring her, nor did he know what good it would do to flick an ear in her direction—he came to his side of the river, stepped into it with his front feet, and lowered his black muzzle to drink from the cool spring water.

[ @Vu - apparently he's cranky today... ]

man, I ain't changed, but I know I ain't the same