"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you
know. And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
His lackadaisical mood was really putting a stunt to his usual meandering. Although he wasn’t much of a set some roots down kind of person, he still enjoyed surrounding himself with those who had dreams and ambitions. He lived vicariously through others really. Michaelis was a sleeping giant. He was slow going when it came to immediate obedience and order. But once his affection and possessiveness was triggered, he was a well of fierce loyalty.
He was often times most like a dragon. He liked collecting those he found shiny and then jealously guarding them within his treasure trove. Michaelis would add his own talents to theirs if it meant that they would shine more brilliantly. He had the patience and care to devote himself if he felt it were worth it.
Makai, Baptiste, Lujza and Sable were gone for now.
Essentially the shadow child was looking for purpose now.
He decided to bite the bullet and venture out during the daylight, even if he hated every minute of it. He chose very early morning, when the sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon. He wouldn’t torture himself during the strongest light of midday. His usually sharp eyesight was being ruined by what little light was filtering through and his vision was starting its journey to blurriness. Michaelis coaxed a couple shadow tendrils out of hiding to wrap around his eyes as a sort of visor. This wouldn’t last beneath strong sunlight, but it would provide some relief in the meantime.
The blue roan remained near the tree line, closest to what shadows would remain during the daytime. They also provided a wind break from the biting wind that swept through the field. He wasn’t particularly familiar with the field, but his last visit had ended with him following Peppe to an even harsher wintry land.
The shadows bathe me in their velvety sheath, concealed from the light, concealed from the bright winter sunlight. I have lost myself in the deepest recesses of the chamber for hours, come moonlight's finest hour, to the midday sun breaking through the thickest of naked boughs. I have wandered the ash tainted land, scarred and deeply rooted, my eyes wa wonder of dreamless sleep, my mind awake within my nightmares. The chill in the wind, it is ice, embedding deeper and deeper into my bones, right down to the marrow core. It is refreshing, the chill that runs along my body in errant rivulets. My nightly escapades have been a plenty, and I have explored the deepest depths, finding the pounding of the chamber's heart, one of a homely comfort. But my wanders through the night had let me to the field once more. The sun is bright, tangerine and ivory, piercing in its presence. The naked boughs of winter's grasp conceal me, lessen the harsh sun's glow upon my skin. I remain on the beat track, my lithe yet lofty frame a swift dancer over protruding roots and thick brush. Hooves sink and squish the damp earth. The cracks of ice loud and resounding in the midday silence. There are not many that stay concealed, my azure eyes survey the field from the darker boundary, drinking in the new smells, the new appearances. There are some old, some new.. but all I have not the slightest clue in knowing. Well, perhaps in time.
Strong appendages, long and lithe, pull me further along the boundaries of the field, eyes still scanning the centre, trying to spot a lone straggler. Like fruit upon a tree, ripe for picking and the first to gently tug it from it's branch. I notice then, crown slithering back to look ahead of me, that there are some that prefer the quaint blanket of shadows, to the bright light that bathes one with a never-ending glow, it is like the sun can see into the deepest reaches of your heart your soul. there are some things inside of me that even the sun would have trouble brightening, and it's those dark, dark secrets that burn within me. Warming my icy frame from inside out. Cerulean orbs find him then, the stranger; though he seems quite adjusted to the layout, he knows the boundaries, where the shadows appear their darkest. A brief smile, debonair and brilliant, peels my lips back. Wavy tendrils of mane fall over my neck, my eyes as I extend my muzzle, nostrils fluttering, eyes alive with the gloss of inquiry, questions and answers.
'The shadows are quite the comfort, no?' my voice is black magic and velvet, twists of poison slipping from the glass, running down in thick purple rivulets. I am a bittersweet facade of grace and sultry poise. Blinking eyes then draw up, meeting the stranger's 'I'm Engelsfors, of The Chamber. You are?'
♦♢♦
Drink the poison lightly, there are deeper and darker things than you;
The snow is already melting as he makes his way to the Field. Spring, as adulthood for the traveling almost-three year-old, is fast approaching.
He doesn’t feel so old, not really. He feels just as curious as he had in childhood, anxious to learn everything he can about the world around him. He’s just as quiet, too, able to live in his own head and let the world reveal itself, rather than him actively forcing it to. But his body suggests otherwise. Ramiel has grown into his once floppy ears. He has filled out, transforming from a lanky colt into a well-muscled stallion thanks running along rugged Dalean forest trails. There is still a youthful quality about his face, however. A softness in his eyes still speaks volumes of the naivety that lingers within him. He clings to hope, a vestigial feature perhaps. Despite all that he has already been through (despite seeing the end of the world, despite seeing his sister smashed into a million pieces and put back together missing some) he wears it openly, still.
Others cast aside their hopes.
He can see it in some of their dimmed eyes; eyes that were probably once sparkling with vitality and assurance are now sucked dry of their light. It happens a lot in the fringe places like the Meadow and Field. Even now, walking amongst the homeless, it’s all too apparent that age and passing years can change others for the worst. Maybe they had had a purpose before – maybe they had loved and lost, and that loss was simply too much for them to bear – but for many, it is clear that their calling is long behind them. They haunt the winter-dead field, some gaunt and staring. Ramiel knows a thing or two about haunting, and today, he doesn’t seek out these living ghosts – these relics of the past. Now, as the years give him strength and life, he seeks only those who embrace the changes.
One such man stands out because he doesn’t. He hugs the shadows of the tree line, maybe trying to hide himself from recruiters such as the one he has attracted. Ramiel can see the difference in his eyes, though. Though hooded, they flicker with want. The almost-adult doesn’t know what the man wants, exactly, but it’s enough that he does. He moves in closer just as a strangely colored mare does the same. She reaches the line of trees first, but Ramiel is quick on her heels. He hears her introduction and place of residence before adding his own combination to the mix. “I’m Ramiel, from the Dale.” His golden eyes turn from Engelsfors to the shadow-loving man. He seems to strain his sight even in the dark place he has found for himself, and the boy wonders if he is somewhat blind. “Shadows can both reveal a presence in the light or make one invisible in the dark.” Funny thing, shadows are, with the power to reveal and conceal in equal measure. He smiles easily and asks, “what is your name?”
Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you
know. And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
He knew he wouldn’t stay unnoticed for long. The field was a place of active hunters and mostly stationary prey. They were eager to be caught and the hunters were satisfied to cater their desires. Even if he were to have tried concealing himself even further, he knew he wouldn’t escape the most observant or persistent. But he wasn’t here to hide away; Michaelis was here to be courted.
Even though the light ruins his vision, his unusually sharp hearing remains unchanged. He was grateful for that one small favor. They flicker alertly towards the oncoming figure and he still attempts to make her frame out with mismatched eyes. But he soon drops the endeavor as he tires of the strain on his eyes. Soon even his flimsy visor will be useless anyway as the sun rises farther and farther above the horizon.
Comforting indeed. Michaelis still remained more than slightly annoyed with the whole experience which had landed him with this condition. But he supposed it could have been a lot worse. Such as eaten by that giant dinosaur or smashed by a giant fairy. Although it still doesn’t prevent him from remaining miffed over the whole ordeal.
“I’d describe them as more annoying than anything else,” he replies amusedly.
But they are interrupted by another before he could divulge his name. He’s long since given up trying to squint through his blurry eyes, but he still instinctively swings his head to face the newcomer. This time it was a young stallion and Michaelis listens quietly as he also offers an introduction. He appears very well-spoken and perhaps a little wise beyond his years, but that appeals greatly to the shadow child.
“Pesky things, shadows are. You never truly realize what their purpose is.”
And Michaelis knew this first hand. They tended to be clingy, suffocatingly so, but he could understand their desires as well. They longed to be seen, appreciated for their dark beauty. This is why they clung to him so; he was one of the few who could differentiate them individually instead of a giant mass of daunting blackness.
“Greetings Engelfors and Ramiel. I’m Michaelis.
He would wait for them to begin the courting. What kind of bait would the hunters use to entice their prey?
She comes to the field like a stormcloud, like darkness washing over the land. Now that spring has sprung in all its riots of leaves and colors and everything, Aletheia's little…gift? has made itself known. Wherever she walks, the plants seem to wither and start to fade. Wherever she stands, if she stands there long enough, they'll enter a strange sort of withered dormancy. And if she stands there for long enough, they seem to enter a sleep so deep that they find it hard to come back. Not impossible, but hard.
This state of affairs does not bother her. She doesn't mind bringing a touch of morbidity with her as she crosses the field, the blades of grass seeming to cry out and shrink beneath her unremarkable hooves. She does not allow this strange condition to bother her, and she certainly will not allow it to stop her from doing her duty to the Valley.
She pauses on the fringes of the land, the foliage around her turning sadder and more sickly the longer she lingers. But she does not pay attention to it; she is focused on the press of horses around the field. She glances across many of them, seeing nothing promising, before finally landing on a stallion, already standing beside one horse, with another quickly approaching.
She is still new at this recruiting business, and does not know that some might consider it rude to butt into a recruiting conversation as advanced as this one is. Not knowing better, she sets off across the ground, soaked with springtime rains. It does not look like rain today; the sky is bright, the sun just starting to crest over the clouds and illuminate the world. Magic hour, the hour when everyone looks their best. A good hour to present oneself in the field.
She arrives just in time to hear the stallion remark about shadows and give his name. She likes him instantly: he seems to share her pensive nature, to be given more toward dark and serious thoughts than to childish expressions of excitement and exuberance. She wonders, briefly, how old he is. Older than she can easily guess, but not so old that the guess becomes an obvious one.
"And not just that," she adds to the discussion of shadows. "They help others obscure their purpose. What is hidden in the shadows will not be caught, and cannot be seen coming." her voice is at once flat and monotone and pleasant, like a voice that reads an audiobook. Her gaze is steady, almost unnervingly so, almost chillingly so. As she stands, the plants at her feet begin to wither.
"Michaelis, I'm Aletheia, from the Valley." She looks at him with clear, icy eyes, her face neutral. A hint of a smile plays with her lips. "And unlike the pesky shadows, my purpose is easy to realize." her voice is light, dryly playful.
But in the next moment, the hint of dry humor has passed, and she is as serious as ice once more. "I offer you a home in the Valley. In short, I offer you purpose – the chance to make yourself great working for something that's worth working for."
The man’s ears flicker more than most, twitch in response to every small sound. Again, Ramiel thinks it is in compensation for some loss of sight. If you can’t see the world, it must be realized in some other way, must be visualized by some other means. The boy tries to imagine what it would be like to not see the places around him; he pictures the vibrant green grass as dimmer stalks, paints this morning Field scene with shades of black, grey and white instead. At first it makes him sad for the roan stallion, makes him feel like the other is missing out on so very much. But then another truth hits him – seeing the world differently doesn’t necessarily have to be a negative thing, it can simply be another reality, another viewpoint. Michealis takes it all in – the good and the bad – from angles fully-sighted horses can’t even see. And having better hearing than most is certainly a bonus.
He thinks on it just before the man addresses his first suitor. When he begins to speak, however, he has Ramiel’s full attention. Englesfors had claimed the shadows as a comfort to which Michaelis disagrees, calling them annoying. But hadn’t he been the one wrapped up in their embrace? Maybe he’s too dismissive of the mare’s assessment, but the young stallion knows better than to bring it to his attention. He might be new at this recruiting game (that he has only just realized it is a game is proof enough) but he is no amateur at reading others.
The sun rises a bit higher in the eastern sky but the trio is safe here from even its softest rays. Spring is fresh in the air, fresh in the smell of new grass and flowers and early dew. It’s possibly the most opportune time to make a change (or at least, the most poetic) and the sight-hampered stallion surely realizes it. Most of the kingdoms will be sending out envoys and recruiters now with the harsh winter behind them. He will have the pick of the litter, and he will have to be choosy. It’s no wonder he’s playing the long game, Ramiel thinks.
Another comes up behind the greying youth, but he waits to see who it is until after he’s responded to Michaelis. “Perhaps they exist only to draw attention to the light.” Finally he turns to the girl who settles next to the group. She pays him and Englesfors absolutely no mind – as if they don’t exist – and the boy is nearly too shocked to react at first. Having been raised in diplomacy, it’s nearly incomprehensible to the polite colt. She speaks with her strange voice, jumping into the conversation as she pleases. When she finishes, Ramiel focuses on her, “Or maybe they serve no purpose at all – maybe the mystery is enough.” He doesn’t believe that at all, as laden with responsibility as he is. He’s always been a stickler for rules and purpose, why is he toying with the idea now? Has the girl really rubbed him the wrong way? He frowns at the way the plants seem to curl into themselves at Aletheia’s feet. Death has a time and place, he knows, but not here. Not when life is still in its infancy all around them.
“The Dale has purpose and mystery both in spades.” It is true, especially as of late. The land is humming with its new force, and though Ramiel hasn’t seen it for himself, just knowing it exists somewhere in the mountains is intriguing enough. But they are also business-oriented. They plan on making the Dale great again, filling it with not only loyal (because loyalty has never been their problem) but many horses. “We are in the process of turning over a new leaf. We already have the stem, a strong and sturdy core. But we are looking to expand, to spread like veins to make a wholly supportive system.” He thinks it's what everyone from a kingdom probably says and he struggles for a moment before deciding to cater it to Michaelis, specifically. "We are looking for those with a unique vision, with a perspective outside any other. Change is only wrought through such differences."
07-08-2015, 11:42 AM (This post was last modified: 07-08-2015, 12:40 PM by Engelsfors.)
Post coming! Promise.
OOC: Hope you don't mind me posting xD
If you do, I can delete?
Drink thy poison lightly dear, ♦♢♦
Attuned ears are lost within the cascade of cream mane, lost within the tresses of spun gold, they listen, catching the sound of oncoming footsteps. dull thuds that resonate and pulse with my own steady heartbeat. My chiselled head was turned to quietly observe. An ebony swathe of skin, that peppers the backdrop with a stain of ink. I flick an ear toward him, watching his words. My debonair smile is not fading. I clutch at my mask, fine fingers holding tight to my slipping facade. Pink tongue moistens my lips. 'One has caught the eye of many.' I say, my inflection light, husky like the thick mists that wrap delicately around your throat, tightening with the softest of caresses. I turn my eye back towards Michaelis, watching him steadily, noting every little sinew well placed, the way his nose is shaped, the glint of his eye. I acknowledge it all, storing it into small banks in my mind. If he failed to follow me to the Chamber, I am certain our paths might cross one day. Began may be large, an expanding world, but it did seem particularly small -- especially around the field. You never knew who you might bump into... be that enemy or friend.
Another joins the foray. A lady of delicate charm, a haunting persona that makes even the trees sway with uncertainty. I watch her, quietly scrutinise her, listening to her words. She speaks with a wisdom, a smoothness that does not go unchecked. The topic of shadows has gone on for too long, the whimsy and mystery is an endless war, one could not simply grasp the complexity of the dancing shade, and how it could strangle with one single well placed tree. I shift, my gilded frame rippling with muscle, willowy legs sashaying almost on the loam. 'Shadows are not meant to be trained. Shadows are what they want to be.' As I move, the sunlight catches me in different angles, casting longer shadows, shorter shadows. 'They can be friend, they can be foe.' my voice is cool, crisply spoken with shimmering azure eyes trained upon Michaelis. He knows much of the shadows, the way his body merges with them, I can only gawp in admiration for a fleeting moment. My nose dips to each in turn, respectively. 'But the talk of shadows, it is not what any of us are here for, No?' I pause, having listened to Ramiel speak of the Dale -- it sounds as quiet yet blossoming as the chamber. And Aletheia of the Valley, it is my turn to speak of my own offering. A fine snap of my golden plume, gently tickling my hocks before brushing over my tender loins in musing. 'The Chamber offers a chance to grow, not only in ranks but yourself. The scars are slowly healing and with it brings a new skin, a new leaf, so to speak. Though numbers may be small, they are mighty and I'm certain the Chamber could benefit you, Michaelis, as you might benefit the Chamber.' my voice hushes with the quivering wind that whips past the trees overhead, and my smile broadens, a little bit haunting myself, a little bit dazzling. My eyes draw up to meet Michaelis, watching him, waiting for his decision. After all, these are mere games of silver tongues and well polished words. One could not truly decide without seeing the kingdom first hand.
♦♢♦
there are deeper and darker things than you;
professor of the chamber
html by magpie77 - photo manip by beequeen - character by magpie77
.......
Burning on, just like a match you strike to incinerate the lives of everyone you
know. And what's the worst you take from every heart you break? And like
the blade you stain, well, I've been holding on tonight.
Just as he’s thought his team of sharp-witted hunters had already begun the chase, another hunter was to enter the fray. This one seems confident and bold and does not hesitant to jump into the hunt with a careless grace. It seems this stranger means business. She doesn’t hesitant to add her two cents to the seemingly philosophical conversation the group as a whole is engaging in.
He remains amused with the topic for he’s never ventured into what they might appear to others. Michaelis has somewhat accepted them into his embrace as he does others he finds intriguing. They were his and that was the furthest he acknowledged them. The blue roan certainly never entertained worrisome thoughts of how one came off to society. He had better things to do – adding more things to his little hoard.
“Hello Aletheia.”
He can appreciate her small hint of playfulness as it allowed him to see a bit more past that icy, monotonous façade she was currently displaying. By this point in time, the flimsy visor had faded and his eyes pained him greatly. He had resorted to closing them in an effort to stave off an immense migraine that always seemed to spitefully be lying in wait. Although he missed details such as withering flora, debonair smiles, or incredibly observant eyes, Michaelis was content enough to rely instead on the hunters’ honeyed words.
He dips his head in agreement to Engelfors’ assessment of their current topic. It was time to move on to the real reason of this little impromptu gathering. And his three visitors do not hesitate in offering their intentions, but he is content to listen quietly and thoughtfully. The Dale, the Chamber, and the Valley – kingdoms of old within the land of Beqanna. Although he had spent the majority of his life traipsing through the meadow, he wasn’t ignorant of the powers that ruled the majority of the country. His own father remained true to the Falls for many years before fading into the background and had often waxed about the bonds he formed to others of the kingdom and to the kingdom itself.
He had been disappointed that the Tundra had failed to earn his loyalty. But it had been a somewhat decaying kingdom with an unstable throne at the time. Michaelis had lost his enthusiasm and returned his roots. This time around he planned on making an informed and careful decision before venturing back into any kingdom waters. He decides to question the latest newcomer first. She doesn’t offer much information about her kingdom and Michaelis refused to rely on past actions. “In your opinion, what makes your kingdom worth working for? My purpose would be to weave my own strengths within a strong loom, not one which consisted of rotted yarn and full of holes.” He doesn’t make judgements on mere hearsay; he plans to hear for himself what the hunters have to say of their own kingdoms.
His next addressee is the Dale representative. Michaelis was impressed with his well-thought offer. It had given him the impression that the Dale was already well on its way to power, but only sought additions which would only serve to compliment it. The blue roan is reassured that perhaps this would be a stable kingdom to offer his services to. “Ramiel, what values and goals represent the Dale’s core? I can certainly offer an outside perspective for I am relatively untouched by kingdom politics. But what kinds of changes do you strive towards for the kingdom as a whole?”
Last, but certainly not least, his attention was drawn back to his first hunter. She reveals a vulnerability to the kingdom, but that too appeals to Michaelis. He likes to put his effort into fixing something and knowing that he had a large input to the finished product. Although he lacked strong ambitions, he certainly enjoyed putting his talents into another’s strong, capable hands. “I can certainly appreciate a close-knit group of strong individuals. What sort of steps do you think your kingdom needs to take in order to continue its growth? My other question is effectively similar to the one I asked of Ramiel. What are the values and goals which uphold your kingdom and it’s potential for growth?”
If she had any idea that she'd rubbed Ramiel the wrong way, she wouldn't have cared. She doesn't have much time for the opinions others might hold about her, one way or the other. Perhaps it's her personality, or perhaps it's a legacy of being an oddity that fell from the stars, a girl with a voice that is simultaneously monotonous and fascinating, a girl with a past like a blank slate.
She looks at him as he looks at her, her gaze relaxed but sharp. She doesn't know that he's contradicting himself, that he's working in violation of how he usually is. She doesn't know him at all, and that doesn't bother her. And so she continues to watch, and just shrugs before he moves along to his own little sales pitch.
She is unsurprised when Michaelis turns to her first. She regards him with her cool gaze. "The Valley is worth working for because the Valley alone is, if I may borrow your metaphor, filled with the strongest yarn." her audiobook voice is as flat as ever as her eyes hold his. "Our members have power that few kingdoms in Beqanna can rival. But that power is only just starting to be woven together into the kind of kingdom that it can one day become." She pauses, considering him. "Much like the Chamber, the Valley is a seed that is just now starting to sprout and grow." she smiles then. "I mean that figuratively and literally. We hold a seed, from the old spirits of Beqanna, that we will nurture and that will, once full grown, turn into a source of power for the Valley." The smile fades slightly to become just a ghost of an upturn on her lips. "Join us now, and you'd have an opportunity to help shape the growth of the tree and the growth of the kingdom, and reap the rewards of both when they finish growing and bear their fruit."
She's aware how ironic it is that she, who causes the world around her to wither, is using plant based metaphors. If he'd been looking at her, or had possibly looked at her long enough to notice the sad plants beneath her hooves, she might've tried to make a joke of it.
She debates jumping the gun and trying to answer the questions he'd asked of Ramiel and Engelsfors, but she decides against it. Let him ask, if he was interested. And besides, she'd come close to answering anyway – and what more, really, is there to say? At the end of the day, she's beginning to suspect that all of the kingdoms are far more similar than they might seem. She's beginning to suspect that all of them suffer from the same trouble, the same silence that seems to blanket the field and the Valley stretches here too, and stretches to all the inhabitants. And she's beginning to suspect that every kingdom wants strength – what matters the most is how they go about getting it. She can't speak for any of the other kingdoms, but she's absolutely certain that the Valley is uninhibited.
And if the others aren't, well, that's their loss.
She almost surprises herself when she speaks again. "Let me turn the question back to you. You said you would weave your own strengths. What strengths would you bring to the Valley? What can you offer us?" Perhaps it's a foolish thing to do. Perhaps she is just still so green to recruiting. Perhaps it's her mother's awkwardness coming through again. Or perhaps it's exactly the right question to ask.
but rises again
Aletheia
harder and stronger
I went first just because he talked to Theia first. Hope y'all don't mind <3
Ramiel is as confrontational as the bay girl seems to be – which is to say not - and he decides to drop his bias when she promptly ignores him yet again. Her bright eyes fall from holding his gaze, but he continues to watch her. More specifically, he watches the tender shoots of grass at her feet as they curl into themselves, dying so soon after life has been given to them. He’s fascinated, despite his equal disgust (after all, hasn’t he seen enough death to last a lifetime already?). He wonders if the grasses and plants that wither into dust here become fodder on the Other Side. He wonders if they have souls, like the horses, wonders if the ghost horses even have to eat or if they’re given a pass for eternity.
It’s so much to think about and ponder that he believes it will take him all of eternity himself to work it out.
His golden eyes look up from the grass to Michaelis when he begins to greet the girl. The blue stallion’s eyes close more frequently and for longer periods of time now, and Ramiel is sure he is some degree of blind. He’s glad he hadn’t offered to move out into the sunlight at the start of the conversation as he had almost done. Although Michaelis doesn’t seem like the type to be offended easily. He doesn’t even mention his eyesight and nobody asks. The black colt considers perhaps that he should and even looks about for any place the stallion would be more comfortable. They are in the field, though. They are already huddled in what little shade the place provides; he doesn’t see any other options. Feeling like he’s failed on some level - even if the man does follow him home - he turns back to the group, his mouth pressed into a grim line.
Michaelis questions Aletheia first, and he listens to her response with growing interest. His mother has a cold hatred of the place that she claims doesn’t exist, but it is evident to Ramiel every time she speaks of the kingdom. There have been horrific crimes committed there (the Valley death-pit his mother’s source of ire) and if the blue roan knows an iota of Beqanna’s history, he will know their reputation. It’s interesting to hear the young woman’s high praise of the place’s power; as far as Ramiel knew, the Valley hadn’t been considered a real threat since the aforementioned pits. It’s a seller’s market, recruiting is. Anyone can say what they want to draw horses to their kingdoms, and the homeless are usually none the wiser for it.
The questions soon turn on him, however, and he nods in understanding before answering. He doesn’t need time to think because it’s easy to answer. He’s been raised up in the Dale’s values and morals his entire life; he can speak of the place endlessly. “The Dale has a family first attitude. It has since the day I was born and will continue with the imminent change in leadership, of that I can assure you.” He is so sure because he will be the new leader, but of course he leaves that part out. He’s proud but not egotistical. There are certain things he can promise, though. The Dale’s future is his responsibility and his privilege. “We put the group above the individual and strive to be a family beyond blood. I would trust every single horse there now with my life.” His youth shows a little in that moment, but it is his honest truth. Ramiel considers revisiting his leaf analogy for the next part, but changes tactic. “We, too, have a new source of power in the Dale. Its force is still untapped and untried – we can only imagine how much of a change it will bring for us. Politically, however, we are looking to make changes as well. We’ve recently allied with one of the strongest kingdoms and are searching for more opportunities.” He pauses, flicking his tail idly before adding another thought. “We have enough loyalists. What we need are those with experience outside of the borders – like you said you possess – to bring strength and wisdom to our people. At this point, leadership roles will come quickly and easily to those who deserve them.”
