HEROES MAY DIE
As they walked on, their hooves leaving light depressions in the soft sand, Destrier couldn't help but notice how quickly the two had gotten along together. At first, the Friesian hadn't been entirely sure, but now, they were talking like old friends. They weren't, however, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that this wouldn't be the last time they spoke to one another.

When the draft's question arose, he debated on whether to answer or not. That exhale of a breath had been to clear his mind, to let those memories whirling in his head escape, so that they could not hinder him from enjoying the company of someone new, and focus on what a beautiful day it was. But he could not lie, or simply ignore such an innocent question. With a gentle look towards her, he found strength to answer. "I'm suffering the recent loss of a friend, a brother in arms," he said, keeping his voice strong, "And I'm trying to put it behind me." It was difficult to admit, but if he couldn't get it now, then when would he? He left it at that, however, and allowed for their conversation to continue.

What she said next was a sort of riddle in it's own way, and he gave a slight nod of his head in answer to it. There was a pang of regret for anyone he'd ever hurt, ever helped Bran to kill, for were they not fighting for the same thing in the end? Fighting for what they believed to be right, for the ones that they loved and cherished? It was a curios thought indeed, one that was startling for the obsedian steed to think about. But it would never prevent him from doing what he had been doing for years, not now.

His mind wandered back to the lady walking at his side when she spoke up again, and now, another smile had replaced the grim expression that had since settled upon his face. "I suppose that is mostly true," he said, "But I believe that people can change in time." Destrier was quickly growing more and more curios of the painted mare, wondering just what it was about her that pulled his interest in. A part of her seemed lost, begging to be recovered. She had at least seemed to relax in his presence, and that alone made the Friesian happy. Maybe one day, he would find himself calling Tor the best of friends, or if fate allowed, maybe something more.

But first, another question.

Destrier's face seemed to slip a bit, but it was far from upset, or any sort of similar emotion. "How many sides are there to choose from?" Was his first question, regarding the taller with a quirk of his brow. Her words alone had made him wonder if there really was a war lingering in the air, thick like the mists in the Edge. Then again, nobody had given mention to one, aside from Lace when he had spoke of their relationship to the Basin...

"You should learn more of each side before you align yourself," he said at last, doing his best to sound reassuring, which he hoped he was. Now, he had a question of his own. "Where do you call home, Tor?"

BUT LEGENDS ENDURE