Long May She Reign -[Bane]

[Wolfbane]

My dreams have all come true

That familiar call - heard often when she was a rambunctious foal and then less and less as she grew - came sauntering over the high ridges and low, grass-swept valleys of a springtime Pampas, meeting Bane’s upturned ears and lending the Loess Lord a hesitant, if not appreciative, glance in the direction whence it came.

@[Mary] came into his field of vision, a mare grown and fleshed out but somehow not entirely herself. As he cantered through the lush expanse of blooming flora, nearing her to see four lovely legs dancing and kicking with life, Wolfbane exchanged his apprehension for mild joy instead. This was Mary after all, daughter of two horses he’d come to know very well and still (even as a picture of womanly grace) the girl who’d grown up in the shadows of Kings and Queens. For her sake Bane couldn’t find it within himself to hold her father’s transgressions against her, even if her loyalty remained to Sylva and the hellhound who’d taken the crown she might so earnestly believe to be her own. He saw potential if nothing else - a slender thread that could prove to link the chain he and Arthas had constructed and then broken in the heat of masculine anger.

That was, of course, as long as she proved to be more capable than her father before her.

“Mary, please … do us stallions a favor and stop growing into such a lovely creature.” Her elder teases, the glint of an overcast sun peeking out from the clouds to illuminate the healthy, youthful sheen of his own striped coat. By all accounts he should be nearing five himself, growing fatter and settling into his bones, and that much (except for the healthy trim of fat) seemed true. Bane looked infinitely well, along with the truth that he felt infinitely perfect.

Whatever Rey had gifted him in their odd exchange wouldn’t begin to show for another handful of years but the fact remained: he was immortal, and his body was striving to constantly heal and mend itself, even when he went for a simple jog through the countryside. “I’m glad to see you.” The pegasus admitted openly, slowing down to approach and wrap his thick neck around her own in a brief, gripping hug, “But you look too thin for your own good. Are you feeling well?” He asked the pale female, stepping back to appraise her once more.

He was certain something was off. Maybe it was the brotherly concern he had for her, or the strange intuition of a shepherd who’d always been attentive of his flock, but something about her itched at the back of his skull. Whether she liked it or not, Bane was already set on calling @[Noah] to come by and heal Mary if she could, before the aspiring beauty left here.

Much better to be safe than sorry.

Like all good nightmares do