i struggled to find any truth in your lies - EVERYONE

[Crito]

The Tundra is a kaleidoscope of colors, but Crito struggles to find any green amongst the palette. He is sampling a lichen-covered boulder when he hears his brother’s call. Quickly (for him at least) he abandons his rather poor meal and moves towards the sound. Ever since the black magician returned to the icy kingdom, he has felt younger and revitalized. It’s as if his blood is responding to the presence of shared blood; as if he finally has a purpose in the alliance his family started so long ago. Even his joints aren’t as menacingly creaky as they were before. Lately, that has turned out to be a good thing. With Mountain at the helm and his subjects growing more restless and bloodthirsty by the day, one never knew when they would be called upon to act. Not that the aging stallion would be much use physically. His only real strength stems from parts he has no control over: his blood and his inability to linger long with the other horses. This last trait had made him a hermit but had also given him an encyclopedic knowledge of the wild places in the Tundra. If complete war spilled over the entirety of Beqanna, Crito could easily stow the Brotherhood in the deepest crevasse of the mountains where it would be all too simple to pick off anyone who dared venture north. Fortunately, it hasn’t come to that. The bay roan is utterly surprised to see that he is the first to make it to Errant’s meeting. It seems his old legs are more eager for change than he thought. The first bit that the mage speaks of is news to Crito. The Amazons have taken Mountain? That part he is more than fine with – supremely fine with, in fact – but he does wonder about the rest. “Was this Scorch’s doing?” He grins mildly, amused that, if it is his twin, she is willing to meddle in their affairs. Out of the goodness of her heart, or an attempt at securing an unbreakable alliance with Errant? The second half of the stallion’s speech is not new to the hermit. It seemed perfect timing on Errant’s part that he returned just as malcontent was stirring in the ranks (not in a bad way, but with a tinge of their familial opportunistic timing). Crito has already proclaimed his support for his brother. He has lived under Errant’s rule before, was most active under it, too, and he believes him a fair and just choice. Besides, blood calls to blood. “You have my vote,” don’t fuck it up he wants to add in jest, but thinks there might yet be some convincing to do. His grey eyes crinkle at his brother but he looks otherwise somber when he turns to the rest of the stallions. ( c r i t o )

reference picture //character info