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Would this day never end? Dragging onward and cruelly forward with no sense of urgency. Not that the mare was not fine company, but explaining the workings of this damned place yet again was dismal. The stallion flicked his tail in irritation, his mind rebelling at repetition. For an engineer, having to repeat was the height of agony to the working, ever mad mind. He chose to answer the original questions first; ones he had not been asked before. "I live here. My talents are appreciated in my herd."
The implication was that his talents were not appreciated before, and they were not. He was not keen on giving away more information than necessary. The machine-wolf moved up to Ulrik's side and stood with a vacant dutiful expression - one that never changed or shifted. Deep, right lit eyes stared emptily ahead, soulless. "The glaciers from the north melt and provide enough water for now. If the Goddess of the Moon does not act quickly, we will be forced to evacuate," he stated rather flatly, tail twitching at his his fetlocks.
He inhaled her scent deeply. "Your scent is familiar to a few of my brethren. Isilme? Your old home?" he asked curiously. The stallion had heard whispers of the land from his own nomadic herd, but they had never ventured beyond its borders. Being at the mercy of an ancient, fucking zombie with one wing and half a horn seemed too demeaning to their bright and glowing pride. The thought of taking orders from any creature with feathers, no matter how crippled, disgusted the stallion.
The gods here were at the very least gods. Their wings served a purpose and were not a mutation. A sick and genetically twisted defect. "The gods rule here, directly. They do not send cursed messengers to do their bidding," he growled in irritation. Then, the stallion grew thoughtful, his bronze eyes taking on a wild, brilliant light. "Though they could merely be physical representations of a much more powerful being, messengers in a metaphysical sense..." he trailed.
Strangely, the stallion turned, lost within his own mind. He began walking toward his home, muttering about wild and fantastical things.
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