that heart is so cold (group from the b2g thread)

[Errant]

when my time comes around lay me gently in the cold dark earth Though the black stallion has never spent the time learning to read minds, he’d been preternaturally good at reading emotions even before his death. His magic has just enhanced that, and so when Brennen speaks up, Errant catches echoes of what the bay horse might have said, or meant, or intended. “I do not blame you and Peppe,” he says softly, meeting the stallion’s gold gaze with his silver one. I left you with incapable young monarchs, he doesn’t say, but he is sure the Brennen will know. The two older stallions might be the only ones familiar with that particular situation (and the only ones who care), but he does not want to leave it for a later time. Though Errant is not ready to admit aloud that his son and grandson had failed him (and more importantly, failed the Tundra), that does not mean that he is unaware of it. That was his failure, after all, his own poor decision. He had not intended to lay blame on either his General or his Ambassador. The dappled grey stallion speaks up again, still questioning despite the answers that Errant has given. It seems that Hurricane has already decided that it is Errant’s fault that mountain rules. Is it not then Errant’s mother’s fault for having sired a king that would allow the Tundra to descend to the current point? Or is it his grandfather’s fault? Or the ancestors before him? How far can they take the blame? It’s been a dozen years since Errant had left the throne – is he now to be held responsible for the fact that no one else had done anything in the subsequent years? “You can’t be sure.” Is all he says, rather than waste his breathe to press the logic swirling behind his emotionless expression. “You’ll just have to take my word for it.” Brennen gives a somewhat grudging mention of support, but Errant doesn’t blame him, especially not if the pegasus had thought Errant was criticizing him with his earlier statement. The black horse nods his head in gratitude, and turns his gaze back to Hurricane. “It’ll be easier than you think.” He replies to the query of how he’ll ensure that Mountain leaves. Errant has never said the word magic aloud, and while he might be gifted, he’s never done much more than enhance the skills it takes to be a king and a father. “Niklaus,” he says to alert the colt, turning to the smallest member of their gathering. (He has learned that physics are something it’s best to cooperate with whenever possible.) The colt is suddenly gone, and reappears on the opposite side of the group, and Errant turns to look at him. He could have put him somewhere farther [outside the border of the kingdom, even], but Errant has no desire for an aching head simply to prove his point. “Once Mountain is gone, he’ll return on penalty of death. If he’s mad enough to try to return, he’ll be aware of the consequences, and you all can have the bloodshed you desire.” They all know he’ll come back, just as Errant knows which cliff over the sea to push the body into. The hunting whales of the ocean stop by from time to time, usually to pick off the wolves that Errant has stopped from preying on the children, or the white bears that have gone mad too close to the kingdom. The black king will be just another meal to them. e r r a n t no grave can hold my body down i'll crawl home to her