The colder months had never been among Roland’s favourites. It was the beginning of autumn and a brisk chill had begun to set in, drawing with it the first snows in the northernmost reaches of the Aurora Basin. Wind sung through the rocky crevasses of the mountains, weaving a haunting ballad that followed the Phantom as he walked, unaware of the direction he was heading in. The rocky ground beneath him was splashed with ice, creating an uneven surface that was nigh impossible to maneuver with grace. The land began to slope upwards, winding towards the mountains that loomed overhead like silent guardians. Large, erratic boulders dotted the meandering path and Roland wound around them as a snake might, choosing each footfall with caution.

It was a bleak day, the sky clouded over and dark while the sun was hidden behind a cloak of gray. Thick, wet snowflakes tumbled to the ground, dancing on the wind as if given wings. The rugged path gradually evened out as Roland neared a cave, allowing the dun time to direct his attention elsewhere. He moved towards the gaping maw set into the cliff side, eager to find shelter under its arch and solace among his thoughts. The tension lingering between the Dragon’s Throat and the Basin troubled him almost as if it were a tangible weight resting upon his shoulders.

He was no seasoned veteran of war, but he had fought, in his own way; rather than with hooves and teeth his weapons were words and shadows. The job of a spy wasn’t as physically taxing as the duties of a soldier, but there was no lack of threat. Every dawn he had woken with the knowledge that he might not live to see the dusk.

If the Basin hovered on the brink of war against the Throat, which he sincerely hoped they weren’t, then of course he would be expected to answer the call of battle once again. While he would be happy to fight for his home, no matter how long he had lived in it, he had mixed feelings about having to return to the battlefield, for he was a coward at heart. He would never admit to it, or even acknowledge its presence, but the fact remained. The thought of being harmed or killed shook him to his very core, though he was desperate to hide his consternation. He did not want to see another home fall to the chaos that trailed closely on the heels of war; did not want to watch the untainted valley fill with the scent of blood and the sounds of angered calls and pained cries.

He snorted softly, slipping out of the wind and growing storm into the quiet that the icy hollow provided. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized with a jolt that he was not alone. A black figure stood with him amidst the shadows, sporting a crown of thorns atop her head. Roland eyed the barbs upon the mare’s horn with uncertainty as he neared, footsteps announcing his presence as his hooves clacked against the ice. He tilted his chin as he approached, noting the faraway look on the black’s face.

“Is something troubling you?” He ventured, hoping he wouldn’t startle her. Before speaking he had determined that a forward approach was best, for he did not want to appear hesitant and unconfident if she did not receive him kindly. Any boldness he exuded in his voice and brazen stature was false and impersonated, for he did not bestow trust upon even his own herd mates until they had earned it from him.

(Hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of assuming Chernobyl’s location.)

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A thoughtful look crossed Roland's face at the dark mare's question and he nodded in response, a movement barely perceptible in the dim light. Her gaze had seemed dull and distracted when he had first arrived, shaking the accumulated snow from his tangled mane. There were no lighthearted musings occurring behind her curious guise. "You do," he murmured in response, not unkindly. He did not pursue the matter though, for she was a stranger and he wouldn't expect her to divulge her troubles to an unfamiliar face.

He had the decency to appear embarrassed when she introduced herself after his forward entrance, dipping his head as if in apology. "A pleasure to meet you. My name is Roland," he responded with a kind smile. There was once a time when he was not so careless with his name, when it was once a secret among so many others he kept behind lock and key, for the betrayal of his title was a threat to his own safety. It was liberating, in a way, to be able to speak it so freely now rather than parading around wrapped in a false identity. Upon entering Helovia, it had taken some time adjusting to the fact that he was able to use it as he pleased, as long as it was not tarnished once again with unjust behavior. Roland hadn’t left behind his talent for lying, nor his willingness to utilize it, but he chose each step carefully now lest he lose the new home he had worked so hard to find.

He was grateful for the distraction from his previous thoughts, for he didn’t wish to be weighted down with the anticipation of a possible war. Perhaps he was overreacting, for he had a bothersome tendency to blow things out of proportion when there was no necessity to do so, or perhaps he was right to worry. Sighing quietly, he lifted his head and glanced up at the ice that arched above them, coloured deep blue in the growing darkness that followed the storm. There was a certain calm that lingered about the place, where the thick frosted walls muted the howl of wind outside their icy sanctuary, and though the snow floated into the entrance with every draft of wind, it was comfortable.

The Phantom’s eyes flicked back down to meet Chernobyl’s dark gaze with hesitance, head tilting to the side. If he had the ability to read thoughts, he would do so now, regardless of how impolite the gesture might be. Beneath his kind exterior he rarely made a habit of being polite or innocent, though he was not cruel by nature. Doing what was right had never been in his job description, and he tried not to feel guilt as a result of his dishonesty; but as time passed he found it easier and easier to dismiss his wrongdoings as things that simply needed to be done.

“Is this unpleasant weather taking its toll on you as much as it is me?” He turned his sapphire gaze upon the mare’s ashen face, laughing humorlessly. He wasn’t going to prod her about whatever had held her attention so strongly, but perhaps she would open up to him, if just the slightest amount. It felt awkward, attempting to sympathize with someone he barely knew. Months spent in solitude had made his social interactions difficult, but he hoped she didn’t find him strange. Perhaps they would find companionship amidst the raging storm and icy walls.

(Bleh. Next post will be better.)

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Chernobyl’s response startles him, and he gives an imperceptible jerk of his head in response, eyes widening a fraction. Her suggestion was followed by a facetious smile, but Roland wasn’t sure if it was meant to soften the insult or worsen it. He wasn’t offended often, though it had been a while since he’d lived in a social situation, but he liked to believe his rustiness with communication was a result of those months spent in solitude. He hadn’t meant to overstep boundaries by simply observing, but it seemed, perhaps, that all the ice and snow had put a frost on his charm, and he wasn’t quite so endearing when surrounded by Unicorns he hadn’t yet decided to trust. He tried to feel at ease amongst their ranks, but the incident upon the mountainside with Leyra, Zar’roc and Elizabeth still nagged at the back of his mind. He had never found out what the true cause of the incident was, but the fact that the herd was predominantly racist had left a slightly sour taste in his mouth. He tried to overlook it as best he could, for there were more important matters at hand.

“Forgive me,” was all he said, placatingly, hoping it was enough but doubting that it was. He blinked, looking at her with a well disguised expression of curiousity and apprehension, though he wasn’t going to be quick to judge and pin her as a figure to avoid- it did seem to be his fault after all. Chernobyl seemed to dislike him, as if in some way the fact that they were trapped in here while a storm raged outside their icy haven had been his doing, but he couldn’t be sure what exactly provoked her. Perhaps it was her personality, or she was just having a bad day. He wasn’t exactly enjoying the forecast either, but it was difficult to decipher her expressions; some he knew by heart, though he had difficulty unraveling the portent seething beneath their verbiage.

“I am a Phantom. I’ve spent a good portion of my life lying and swindling… a bad habit I picked up in my homeland, I suppose, though it has done me some good,” he responded, deciding he might as well be open with her, though his mind still troubled over the fact that she found his name odd. He quite liked it, but then again he liked himself a great deal. She had asked what made tick, and so he had given her the truthful answer for better or for worse. There wasn’t much she could do to use the information again him, for his occupation clearly stated that duplicity was his tool of the trade, but he supposed it might not be the best information to share when she already seemed to think ill of him.

Roland did feel slightly uncomfortable, but it was more that he was flustered and surprised at her reaction than made nervous by her. He attempted to appear confident in most situations, but there was no lion’s heart in his chest; beneath his ego and the occasional false bravado, he was a coward. Perhaps Chernobyl responded to him so unkindly because he had been too foreword, for he could see that one might not respond kindly when a stranger appears out of a dark flurry of snow and begins talking about feelings and the like, before he had even learned her name; but she had caught him off guard with her reaction. It had never been his intention to put her at unease.

He felt almost like a child as she spoke to him, but he was determined to not respond in a manner that might be received as petulant. He looked out at the gray sky and whirlwind of snowflakes with disdain, wondering how he might word his response in a way that would not stoke her ire. “I didn’t pay much mind to the weather until I came to the Basin, honestly. Snow has never been a favourite thing of mine, so it is taking some time to adjust,” he admitted, voice level despite the fact that he felt his fur had been rubbed the wrong way.

Chernobyl continued, and the Phantom turned away from the mouth of the cave to give her a calculating look, wondering at exactly what game she was trying to play. If she was attempting to get a rise out of him, she would find he wasn’t easily provoked even though her harsh words did irk him. Still, he did not feel compelled to respond rudely since she had done nothing to harm him, despite the fact that he now sported a slightly wounded ego, for he held himself in high regard.

“This is no inconvenience to me. Would you rather I didn’t enjoy it? ” He questioned, a playful glint in his eyes. If she was going to take such a negative tone with him, he could only try and make light of the situation. He had no intentions of braving the storm that raged outside, so they would have to learn to put up with each other until it passed; and he was not entirely opposed to the idea. For all her thorniness, there was an air of intrigue about her, despite the fact that she cast off his attempts at being kind like water upon her back.

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A small smile crept onto Roland’s lips as Chernobyl dismissed his apology and the mood seemed to lighten a fraction, despite the fact that the cave they sheltered in was dark, the thick downfall of snow blocking out the evening light. He did not say anything in response, but met her gaze kindly when she looked to him and raked in a heavy sigh. The dark mare’s next words shocked him, and his eyebrows lifted a fraction as he took in her words and wondered at how he was to respond to such a question.

He studied Chernobyl in silence for a moment, wondering if he should really disclose the information to someone who was all but a stranger to him. It had been a long time since he’d spoken about the war, or mulled over his tumultuous childhood. He had been raised an orphan, growing up around other children who had no real parents of their own, but were mothered by mares who had devoted their lives to those who had no families. With so many other foals, it was difficult to keep an eye on the rebellious colt who discovered he got quite a kick out of stealing others belongings- convincing them that they didn’t want them anymore, but he would do them a favour and take them off their hands- and conning the other children into doing things for them.

His habit of lying grew as time wore on, as well as his tendency to chase after the fillies, and he recalled several scoldings from illegitimate mothers who swore he’d break a lot of hearts one day. It was an addiction that had started when he was young, perhaps a way of coping with his abandonment, and had grown into something that consumed his very life and laced his words with false promises. But the dark mare seemed to be genuinely interested in his past, which felt slightly strange to Roland as he had never bothered to find out much about the faces that he met in passing, but they were trapped for the time being, and if it was a story she was interested in, then he could offer one.

Perhaps he had not achieved much in his past besides his efforts in the war, but their side had been victorious in the end, so his hard work through those bloody weeks had to count for something. He tilted his head slightly and eyed the snow swept ground, a thoughtful look upon his face. “I lied about many things,” he replied at first, shrugging. “It was done out of selfishness to begin with… but once I realized I had a talent for it I began using it to my advantage, like one might wield a weapon. Physical combat isn’t exactly my strong suit, so when my homeland fell into civil war I joined the battle as a spy.”

Intelligence had been greatly lacking, so he was one of the very few who were sent over enemy lines to lurk in the shadows and lure information from the mouths of the less attentive warriors. When the Pegasi had been sent in from Evendim the relief had been palpable, and knowing the odds were swaying in their favour had allowed Roland to walk with a lighter step. Without them they might have never been successful. He doubted he would ever meet some of the soldiers that had fought by his side again, but they had been as close to him as blood brothers during the grueling days of battle. He didn’t miss the fear of being caught, or the sight of blood spilled across the darkened ground, but he grieved for the friendships that he had left behind. Never in his life had he known bonds as strong as those he had forged in the midst of conflict.

“For a short time, I was forced to work alongside the enemy and pretend that I was one of them. It was very unnerving for me, but once we received reinforcements, Pegasi from the north, I retreated to our base and spent the majority of my time questioning prisoners,” he added after a moment of silent reflection, figuring he might have lost her among the details when he had offered no back story, but assumed she would be able to follow him nonetheless. “To answer your question, the war affected my lifestyle profoundly, and as a result of it many things changed for me. Lying was, and is still, a useful skill of mine, though it has both saved me and been my downfall. I came to Helovia in hopes of starting fresh, but duplicity is all I have to define myself so I must put it to good use. Conning is not a very desirable habit, but I do not intend to abuse it.”

He had not exactly left his homeland by choice; rather he had stretched his luck too far, only to have a carefully structured network of falsities come crashing down on his head. After the war had ended, he had allowed himself to become thickly caught up in the power of fraud, and the cocky way in which he had conducted himself had caused things to take a turn for the worst. He had been chased from his home and the makeshift family that had never meant anything to him to begin with. It was all behind him now though, and by coming to Helovia he had intended to leave his past behind and turn over a new leaf.

To Chernobyl’s following inquiry, he smiled back at her and laughed softly. “I would say you have strange preferences, but I am a very good actor when I want to be. If you wish me to be unhappy here, I’d bet I could erase all doubt in your mind that I was ever enjoying myself,” he responded, feeling quite sure of himself as he often did. Roland was relieved that he could now relax in the mare’s company, as she seemed to accept his presence regardless of whether she trusted him yet or not.

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Truthfully, Roland liked being the center of attention. Even if he was being subject to Chernobyl’s judgement and her studious gaze, he was all rapt diligence and intentness. He had a habit of changing his character depending on whose company he entertained, and so every opinion formed of him was different and yet equally engrossing. His eyes widened slightly when she finally questioned him, but he laughed despite his initial shock. It was not an uncommon thought to cross the minds of those who knew him for what he truly was, and so he was prepared to answer without hesitation. “You have nothing to worry about from me. Not yet, anyway,” he responded with a wink, words carrying no purpose except to tease.

Chernobyl shifted beside him and Roland looked down at the snow swept ice beneath their feet, absorbing her speech with a curious glance towards her. He was strangely touched by her comment, for he had not been spoken to with much care for a very long time, and to see someone have hopes for him when they had just met mere minutes ago it seemed, made him smile. He didn’t want to sour the moment by explaining to her that it would not be the first time he had been cast from a family’s favour as a result of his work, so he merely nodded and fixed her with a grateful look. “And I enjoy yours.” He considered himself lucky to have made a friend despite the ill circumstances, for being chased from the open air by a roaring storm while thoughts of war, past and future, clouded his mind hadn’t exactly led him to believe that it would be a good day.

There was the intonation of an oncoming inquiry in Chernobyl’s voice when she next spoke, and Roland returned her smile while absorbed in anticipation. In the end he was not disappointed, though her request made him feel slightly nervous. She didn’t seem as suggestive of mind as many of the others he had manipulated, and perhaps his attempts would not live up to her expectations. All the same, there was a keen glint in his eyes as he accepted her challenge with a minute nod of his head, stepping forwards so he might give himself room to work. The movement was a good distraction from his brief silence, though it took mere moments for him to derive a plan.

He decided on something she probably wouldn’t expect, which was honesty. By making his explanation believable, it would only make it all the more easy for the victim, if you will, to buy his story. His hooves clacked across the ground as he turned back to face her, now calm and collected. There was no playful smile dancing across his lips, no tension in the way that he stood. He was confident as he met her gaze, voice smooth as silk yet smoky at the same time.

“From the beginning I could have been playing you and you would have been none the wiser. It is something that I often do, fake friendships to benefit myself, so why would this situation, us being forced to endure each other’s company until the storm subsides, be any different?” He questioned, stepping closer to her. “When I first joined the Basin I had assumed I was making a good choice. I was tying myself to a purpose, working for a cause, but I quickly found out that this herd is not what it seemed to me at first. In Tallsun, not long after Mauja had recruited me, I heard screaming from the cliffs and approached to find two of our herdsmates attacking another, simply because she had helped a Pegasus.”

“Realizing that I had joined a herd where racists make up the majority of the population, I began to doubt my choice. I had been raised to accept all creatures regardless of their appearance, and the fact that some of my own kind discriminates simply because others do not have horns disgusts me. Now I approach new faces with caution and the slightest amount of dislike.” He finally began to entwine honesty with falsity as he continued, aware that he was no doubt spinning her a very unappealing representation of himself. “How am I to know that you aren’t racist? That you haven’t judged me because I once fought alongside Pegasi and grew close enough to consider them kin? You’re lucky that I even trusted you with that story,” his tone grew bitter, gaze hardening as he looked away from her for a moment, breathing deeply before he returned to his scrutiny.

“So really, you were just inviting me to tell the truth. Ever since I entered this cave I have been willing for the storm to cease so I might spend my time with those whom I already trust.” His tail swished against his hocks, face expressionless as he continued to watch her, anticipating her reaction. He would not let the guise fall until she had spoken, else he would break the illusion he had formed and she would have reason to doubt him, if she had not seen through his harsh words and pointed looks already.

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