The old stallion feels inordinately heavy, as if his body is subject to too much gravity, more than his paltry physical weight can possibly justify. His legs are folded beneath him and painfully complaining about the hardness of the ground, the length of time he’s lain unmoving, the arthritis that constantly plagues his swollen joints, but still the invisible pressure of exhaustion and insomnia drapes across his back and holds him down, deterring any further ideas of movement. He blinks several times, his emerald eyes hard and unwelcoming, but nothing clears or changes behind their heavy lids.
He sighs, tries to clear his throat, but the gravelly unevenness of his voice lingers, making him sound even gruffer than his temper and general state of unhappiness already does.
"Dunno.” He rumbles, feeling obligated to answer if he ever wants to be left alone again.
"Have you found any other old corpses lying around recently?” He squints up at the youth for a moment, unable to see her properly for the glint of bright sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water around her. Conveniently, she chooses this moment to introduce herself.
"Hello Vezér of the Dragon’s Throat.” He mimics flatly, his head slowly sinking toward the ground in front of him. One ear folds back against his skull, the other begrudgingly turned out toward the young filly.
"I'm Albrecht, of-" He stops himself then, hesitant to loose his ire (and asshole comments) on such a juvenile figure. Even halfway blinded he can tell from her soprano voice and excessively leggy silhouette that she's somewhere between foal-hood and adolescence, probably not yet grown enough to survive being berated by a stranger unscathed. It's not really her fault that he's tired either, and
somewhere inside himself he acknowledges that fact, though he won't voice it aloud.
"Sometimes of the Basin."
Even focusing to one side of the filly's outline to avoid being blinded it's a struggle to keep his eyes open. The simple act of breathing seems to extort a palpable effort. When was the last time slept untroubled? He wonders, his yet-to-fully-understand-sarcasm companion quickly providing an estimate.
You watch her then, He huffs internally, letting his chin rest on the ground, his auburn beard spreading around him like an exotic fan of color.
Since she’s so important.
"Talk."
OOC //
@Vezér
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