Albrecht

The old stallions grizzled muzzle reaches up, his bent and wiry whiskers brushing across the strings of broken glass, metal shards, and other unidentifiable baubles hanging there. Early morning light gleams across their uneven surfaces as the sun breaches the Basins mountainous peaks and he tilts his head to watch the lights reflection on the bits and pieces. One particular strand holds his attention, its colors and materials more varied than the others. He stretches his neck, lips parted to grab this new prize when a skitter of loose stone from behind makes him turn.

"Tangere." His tone is flat, expressionless. "Long time no see." His emerald eyes scan her over, ignoring the dirt and the way her coat always seems to be so long and uneven, focusing only on the basic signs of wellbeing like weight, wounds, and expression. She seems a little tired but otherwise healthy to his presumptuous eyes and he wonders, staring impassively back, what differences she might find in him.

Does she note the extra half inch of meat across his ribs, or only the way it still fails to smooth the dips between them? Do her roadworn eyes notice the way his head sits just a little to one side, the coil of black and auburn scales around his right horn weighing it down? Can she see the other weight, this new darkness laying heavy across his mind, somehow sense the gist of his recent crime and shrink away from his proximity through some instinctual awareness? Or does she only note the lay of his ears, the way the corners of his mouth turn down at being interrupted? He doesn't consider her possible anger, how she'd likely seen his intent in reaching for her homemade decorations. She doesn't seem the sentimental type, having just returned from an extended absence, but no one likes being swindled.

"I like your things." He admits, offering a wan smile. "They-" He hesitates a beat, searching for the right word. "-chimed in the wind last night."


OOC // @Tangere I hope this is okay! I remember you writing about the little bits of shiny things that Phrixus collects once and wanted to expand on that. <3

"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'

Albrecht

She doesn't care about his sticky hooves, of course. She's the same unflappable piebald he'd met that first day in the Threshold, when he'd sat spitting and cursing at the herd representatives trawling for new members. He'd found her easy manner and rough humor endearing then and he does again now. The downward turn of his mouth lightens slightly, evening out to a smooth line of neutrality.

"Ah, but maybe they catch the wind better up here." He says, nudging the string of rainbow glass and debris but leaving it attached to the mares cavern ceiling. His companions attention perks at this, curiosity telescoping his head upwards to stare out at this stranger who can temper and cheer his bonded even so slightly, his beady black eyes catching her warm copper ones for the briefest of moments. 'Strong.' He notes to himself, though he knows that his thoughts are shared, and then when her two toned muzzle reaches out to his bonded in friendship he adds warmly, 'Nice.'

"Yes." The stallion replies, though whether to his companions observations or to the mares comment of elapsed time is left ambiguous. "The Basin has stagnated since you left, though the upcoming festival is drawing some life back into the place. Deimos talks of strength and unity, but I haven't seen anyone but the Lord himself and a few medics roaming the grounds for months. Even you-" He pauses, brows rising in question. "Left for a time."

He wants to ask where she's been, what she's been doing, why she abandoned her home for so long, but these are questions a close friend would ask and have answered. Though he does hold affection for the wooly, snow and soot colored mare, he can't say that closeness is anything he's given or received in a long time. 'Here.' His companion soothes, trying to comfort his bonded with the pureness and wholeness of his affection, but the stallion declines to answer him.

Bonding isn't a consensual act for either party as far as he can tell and that's something he's still unsure about his true feelings on, though he does share a moment of mental warmth with the python on the heels of this thought, dispelling any question of regret regarding their bonding, at least within the silence of their minds.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Tangere

Albrecht

"Do you go anywhere in particular?" He asks at her back, wondering where she might go to decompress and breathe easier than in the cold and altitude thinned air of the Aurora Basin. "Or do you just go?" Surprisingly, he could understand such a sentiment, if that's what she'd actually meant. For someone so loudly averse to expending physical effort he's been doing a lot of running lately, mostly from the consequences of his own words and actions, and despite the snapping of joints and the crackling of age brittled tissues he's beginning to find the movement bracing. As slim - 'Read emaciated,' his companion insists - and long legged as he is, going fast feels natural, his long stride covering ground smoothly, even easily when there's no one in pursuit to worry his rhythm.

It feels odd too though. He's never been an athlete or a devout lover of movement in his life, but he's never been so completely idle before either. The herd really is is stagnating. Maybe that's part of what drove the Scourge to leave too, though the sometimes in her explanation makes it seem more like a periodical absence rather than a one time anomaly. "In this narrative," He questions, careful to pronounce the words with a light seriousness, something more than curiosity, but less than disconcerting analyzation. "What suffocates you? And what is the sun?"

He's educated enough to know she's not a plant and isn't talking about physical air or sunlight here, but whatever deeper meaning the metaphor might hold is hers to hide or reveal as she sees fit, a freedom he'd like her to be aware of with her elevated status as one of the not completely horrible or utterly inane in his eyes. 'What an honor.' His companion notes, only half teasing. It is an honor after all.

"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Tangere

Albrecht

Away. Life. They're broad, generic terms meant to appease the one asking without actually giving any meaningful answers. He knows the tactic well, has used it extensively himself, so it's with mild acceptance that the black nods his head, taking the mares refusal to share herself more as a sign of intelligence than a sign of distrust. He offered the out himself with his tentative wording, so what offense can he take now? It's hardly a concern of his what afflictions and demons drive her to wandering. Though he enjoys her banter and friendly nudges, the presence or absence of one piebald unicorn does little to change the course of his days.

Much like his initial attraction to the candy-corn Weaver, he's finding the need for such benign relationships lessening as the scope of his magical prowess widens, enabling him to simply create and then take whatever kind of exchange he craves at the time, and beyond that, he has the benefit of a companion now. Young and impressionable as he is, the small python is still a constant, inseparable support for his occasional bouts of loneliness and emotional weakness. The snake tightens his hold of the old stallions left horn in wordless answer, agreeing with the mental almost-endearment.

She asks about him then, shifting the burden of conversation from her own weary shoulders to his skeletal ones. The stallion grins with unabashed amusement, a hint of deeper unkindness to the expression that shifts it from friendly to feral. Oh, you know, He thinks, Lying, stealing, assaulting, raping. His tangled, tufted tail sweeps out to the side as if to dismiss the gravity of the thought. "Corroding my soul mostly, whatever's left of it." He says instead, as general and unenlightening as she'd been in her earlier responses.

He watches her watch the sunrise for a moment, admiring the way the warm tones of light seem to catch on the tips of her wooly Frostfall coat. She certainly looks at home here, for all her allusions otherwise. "You should check out the Secret Grove sometime, lots of happenings there, or so I hear." He's not sure what the purpose of the invitation is, but he can't help himself extending it anyway. Would he have her witness his antics, or would he have her become one? Is there some ludicrous idea of her becoming an accomplice in the invitation, the muscle to his mind, though so far he hasn't had need of any. He mulls the thought, irritated to think that perhaps he simply wants her attention, some childish holdover of the notion of friendship.

He shakes his bearded head, still at the mares back, and turns to descend the rocky slope, his mind almost violently seeking comfort in the wordless presence of his young companion, forcibly conditioning himself to understand that there is no need for any other, his subconscious latching onto and repeating the idea like a mantra. He gives no farewell, taking the mares small talk and staring off into the horizon as clue enough to the end of their chat. Strom tilts his head to look back at the piebald, confused again by his bondeds contrary thoughts and behavior, but shrugs the confusion away in favor of his sudden inclusion. If hating others makes the old stallion love him more, then he'll happily fan the flames.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Tangere I'm cool with that!