He laughs, the sound short and harsh, somehow entirely lacking humor.
"Things change, alright.” He agrees darkly, eyes cutting away from the young Lord, turning to hide whatever splash of emotion might dull their emerald green and only shaking his head slightly when asked about a
Laurelin.
"Nope. He’d been missing for some time already when I entered the Basin. As for my history there-“ He shrugs, reaching out to pluck a few black and amethyst berries from the shrubs around them.
"I showed up one day and no one bothered to chase me off.” The shadow of a wry smile crosses his features then, thinking of the months he’d haunted the Basin without challenge, when the only active member of the herd had seemed to be Deimos himself and his overabundance of lordly responsibility had kept his judgement well at bay.
“I think maybe there just wasn’t anyone around to do it.”
Pausing his chewing to glance over, the elder ponders if the black and gold understands what the herd was truly like before the Reaper’s death drew so many back up into the mountains.
Out, he'd said, and so was everyone else. Had he been cognizant of the ruin? The emptiness? Of the disappointment their illustrious northern ruler must have felt in his final moments? Does he feel guilty for not being there? Do any of them? There'd been not a word of criticism at the Reaper's burial, yet when he'd called to them only silence answered. He'd stood over these snowy peaks guarding a memory of glory and all their empty promises of action until his final breath. Even a callous hearted old stallion can see the sorrow in that, perhaps because it's too close to the haunting vision of his own inevitable end: cold and alone with nothing to show for his years in this world.
'Nah lone.' His companion interjects, an air of offense seeping across the bond between horse and snake. 'Strom
count.' He asserts, fed up with being on-again off-again ignored in the old stallion's morose contemplations. He winds himself around one grey tinged ear as if to force the organ to hear him, though the python's grip is gentle compared to what he's surely capable of. The old stallion consciously relaxes his jaw, ears, and neck, surrendering to his silent conqueror for the time being.
“Suffice to say I had and have nowhere else to be.”
"Talk."
OOC //
@Rikyn
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