I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
In his youth, Ashhal had been that same scarred stallion, each one a badge telling stories of the many battles he had fought. Something like loyalty had once rooted in his breast, tying him to this continent and the kingdom of the Valley forged within. He had been born elsewhere, though those memories are now faint and distant. But he remembers only an absent father and a mother who had hated him for the way he had been conceived. He had fought then because he had to. And later, he had fought because it was the only place he truly felt alive.
Ironically, even now he only takes joy in two things. But he had stopped fighting for others a long time ago. Now he fights when the misery grows too great.
In a way, it’s funny how easily he can see things he couldn’t before he’d lost his memories. He recognizes himself in the stranger. How easily he could become him if he were cursed with the same fate. Maybe he is smarter though. Knows better how to avoid it.
He pins his ears against the question, metallic distaste on the back of his tongue as he recalls his own idiocy in believing he could actually right a wrong. He’d never righted a wrong in his whole fucking life, so why he had imagined he could then, he isn’t sure. His response when it comes is clipped and brief, filled with his own self-loathing. “Yeah.”
The stranger’s next question surprises him, if only because he’s not certain why he’d care. It’s not like his death would have affected him one way or the other. His wings shuffle in agitation as he throws a sharp glance at the other pegasus before shifting his gaze to a point in the distance. After a moment, a derisive snort escapes his nostrils, followed by words spoken much more gently than he had intended. “I guess you could say an angel saved me.”
@[Tarian]