The Clovenheart

When Phantom told Ashamin that he had changed, he wasn't surprised. He may have been thick about some things, but even he knew he was different. When Ashamin had first arrived at the borders he wouldn't have had the guts to step into the battlefield, let alone the skill to win. He knew enough of the Gods now to know that they needn't be worshipped, for their own immortal talents were enough to amuse themselves. But Ashamin knew, too, that they could be killed, and that their pride could be injured by the mere force of mortals. That, if nothing else, was valuable knowledge.

Had the Clovenheart been thinking about his failures, too, he would have remembered how he had shattered friendships with Zandora and Ki'irha, and the earthen mare that had led his morality astray. But these were not thoughts to be preoccupied with in the company of an old friend, even if she wasn't a particularly friendly one.

"I can't say the same of you," the Clovenheart told her frankly. What good would it be to lie? Besides, he liked her the way she always was. And it was good to know that not everything was so easily impressed upon by the world--that some remained stalwart in their convictions and ways, even if all that meant was staying standoffish. "But, Phantom, I should hope you will consider that a compliment," Ashamin added with a sigh and a half smile. It was as if his body knew he needed to prepare for what was coming next.

When the mare told him of the Aurora Basin's invasion he bristled. It wasn't something he'd ever heard of, or at least not in such detail. His very tail stiffened, which was awkward looking given its absurd length. The thing, ugly as it was regardless of its position, looked best when hanging limp. Limp like the bodies of the dead slain, apparently, by his herdmates.

"I'm... sorry, I never knew. That was before my time. It's amazing how well the Basin can keep its dirty secrets hidden, even from their own haruspex," Ashamin said with a frown as he remembered Rikyn's racist diatribe. Accepting Zahra in the herd had been his way of forcing it to move forward, but the fact that it was rooted in such a foul past had been disappointing in the first place, to say the least.

As for why he had left... He struggled with that idea himself, especially given the family he had left behind. Still, the painted buck would have to come up with an answer. Worried they would hear again the same spiel, his two companions turned and wandered away, still staying close but distancing themselves from Ashamin.

"I left to forge my own path. The herd wanted a version of me that no longer existed, and they wanted that... past self to tend their wounds most when I was struggling unnoticed." He looked after his companions, not sure what Phantom would think, before adding in an honest joke: "well, that and I was sick of the Spark God's... shit." He would have chuckled then if his mind weren't so preoccupied with Phantom's talk of war--would have laughed if it weren't all so true. Still, though, it felt strange to curse so quickly like that. He swallowed his tongue for a moment before clearing his throat, and nickering kindly.

"Rhea, she left the Basin as well. The two of us are gathering a group of outcasts whom we can trust to be loyal, and we're trying to learn from each other. If you'd like, Phantom, you could join us," Ashamin offered without really thinking. He knew he would need to meet again with Rhea soon, and he had a feeling the two mares' similar personalities would be interesting to see in a clearing together.

But as for Phantom alone? Well, he didn't know if she would want to learn. Maybe she wouldn't even want to teach. Maybe she would desire no loyalties other than her own. Still, the Clovenheart wanted the ghost on his side.

""

ashamin, lochan, & rakt