[lol I know, but Paladin is topographically challenged :P Not really, but he would have no idea where it is ]
Paladin nodded when the Ice King said that he would indeed ask Giselle and Psyche about their home. Hiding his past continually seemed an effort in futility. What he did was shameful, but no one had to know the details, right? Paladin was not even sure if Donovan had seen him murder that mare let alone his sisters. He shifted his weight on his other hooves, turning his attention quickly back to the conversation before his mind decided to get the better of him.
The black dun listened to Mauja's commentary on the north and snorted in amusement. "I loathe the snow," he replied with a quiet chuckle, shaking his head a little. "The land I come from was consistently hot from fires and pitch. When I was younger, I remember trees, but I believe they were all consumed by fires. The sky is consistently darkened by the ash and dust in the air that rained in the stead of water," he replied. "I can imagine the beauty of the northern kingdoms, though. The mountains always look pristine and unmerciful." He thought of Mauja, having come from such a land.
The fact that he chose to live in such a northern realm and was rather cold made more sense in the context of his upbringing. Paladin could feel a tendril of respect growing for the white stallion, but he was still suspicious of his motives. The fact that he showed interest in his daughter was also cause for violence, but he guessed correctly that Ophelia would be upset with him for attacking this soul on her behalf. He felt conflicted about Mauja. The fact that he chose the company of his twisted sisters said something about his character, but Ophelia had fair judgement. He was a strong creature from the north, but lived only among those of his kind. Paladin had no way to wrap his head around this conundrum.
The black dun listened to Midas and felt inspired by his youthful desire to travel. Paladin had never been one for traveling unless need drove him otherwise. He was built with this traditional sense of belonging to the land itself, of serving his home until death. Like kings of old, he found honor in dying at the helm of one's ship, defending borders and either emerging victorious by the blood and sweat of your own brow or dying at the skill of a worthy opponent. Being uprooted and moved disrupted his sense of honor and pride, which was perhaps why he felt so adrift now. He knew that the shades were no worthy opponent, no mortal with home he tested his mettle and yielded to higher skill.
No, the land he had bound his soul to had been taken from him, and he could have died forgotten or moved on to try and appreciate the shambles of his family - which, quite frankly, had not worked out in his favor either.
When Midas dipped his head in respect and wished him comfort in this land, the stallion snorted sarcastically. "I have been here for a very long time," he rumbled. "Couple the loss of home with children and gods and there is no peace to be found," he mused in light humor. "But I appreciate your hopes nonetheless."
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[O] Remember the light (Paladin, Open)
