[open] it's me who's been making the bed

[Everclear]

Her explanation finds a vaguely bemused expression crossing his face, a gentle smile of almost-understanding. The Gates had not been so giving during his time here – indeed, magic seemed a bit more restrained before Carnage’s various reigns had broken the dams holding it back. Everclear had not ventured far enough into the kingdoms during his brief return three decades ago to have discovered any of the more modern evolutions.

Thus, his question had been posed partly in jest, thinking her adornments mere fancies as some horses are wont to wear. But when she mentions that their source is “the crown,” his ears twitch in recognition.

He dips his head a little, an old formality. “It’s an honor, your highness,” he begins, though his tone is casual to match her own. There’s no need to put on the old airs he’d been raised with so many lifetimes ago – of that, at least, he’s outgrown. “My name is Everclear.”

A pause follows his introduction as he considers his next response. Does one truly need to be welcomed to a place they once called home? A quick look around reminds him, though, that this is not the same kingdom he had known, not the one he had fought to defend. He hardly even knows of all that transpired among the kingdoms, old and new and reborn, since he’d last been a denizen of one.

“I lived in Heaven’s Gates long ago,” he eventually admits, a dual-sided answer. He has been here, and yet he’s never been here. “We did not have crowns in those days, though,” he adds with a bit of a laugh. “It suits you more than it would’ve suited me.” This last admission inadvertently reveals his prior title, but upon realizing this minor blunder he only shifts his weight in a shrug.

“How has the kingdom been since its return? If I may ask.” Despite his time apart, he does still hold some affinity to the idea of The Gates, if it is anything like its former self. Some change is to be expected, he supposes (and he has learned, during his conversation with Narya), but if the amicable mare before him is any testament, it seems about the same. “I would not mind pledging my loyalties to her once again,” he finishes with sincerity, a truthful solidity affirming his gaze.

E V E R C L E A R

@ Viszla