until the ashes of E D E N fall |OPEN|

The nip in the air was nothing compared to what it had once been, and yet, it sent shivers down the great beast's stygian spine. For spring, it was cold, as if the great queen of winter was refusing to step down from her post just yet. The new births and green growths that marked the season either waited or struggled through, pushing up through the winter-frosted soil that so defined the previous season. At the last place he had been, Bucephalus had seen a newborn foal fight to come forth from its mother, then to stand, and walk, and eat, and then, collapse. The herd had long battled a cruel winter that followed a fruitless summer and fall; there was nothing for the mother to eat, and therefore, nothing for her child. He could not have done anything to save it, or at least he did not think he could - he was no mother, no milk could he give and no grass could he feed it. The land had been barren for too long, for even he hungered. The dead colt had marked what he saw as the end of the herd, spring was their lifeline and it had failed to come in time. There he had left them, for they possessed no remaining vigor to follow him into greener places. He went to the greener places himself. Alone. As always.

The sun was just rising now, sending a warm yellow light to reflect off the blade that was his mane and the marbles which were his eyes. It was too early to bring any kind of comforting heat, something to combat the biting air that had overstayed its welcome by at least a moon. His gaze glowed softly in the dim light of the sun as he squinted, watching it rise until he would no longer be able to look at it. A sound caught his attention, and as he looked in its direction, he saw a great glinting stone of great height in the distance. What was it? He did not know, but he would find out. The great beast set off at a gentle trot, kicking up only the warmest of soil that sat not very high above its colder body. As he drew closer to it, descending the sloping hill forced him to ease up even more, a little gray thing moved about. His ears captured the faintest sounds, but they could not be made out. The wind was against him, and so, he could not catch the thing's scent, or things, rather, as he began to see a smaller shape flying around the horse below. It was a bird of some sort, obviously, but of what kind?

The pillar shone with a myriad of colors, the sunrise reflecting beautifully off its many shards of rainbow, embedded amongst gray rock. He stopped yards from the stranger and the pillar, not sure whether it had yet to notice his presence. Bucephalus walked closer, then paused again, letting a huff escape his nostrils more loudly than was necessary. He scratched at the dirt with his hind leg, never once taking his gaze off of the unfamiliar figure. "Good morning, stranger." He could think of nothing more appropriate to say.

His glowing gaze followed the owl as it landed to perch on her rump; obviously it was a companion of some kind, as she seemed perfectly comfortable with it. She didn't turn to look at him immediately, speaking before she moved, as if mesmerized by the grand pillar before them. It was, truly, magnificent, even to Bucephalus who did not think of himself as one that paid particular attention to such things. In combination with the rising sun, the stone became even more incredible, gems glimmering as if they were living beings, tiny crystalline beetles that reflected the sun's gaze more beautifully than waters on the horizon ever could. What kind of place was this to the Halcyonians? A place of worship, of meeting? He had yet to encounter any other members of the kingdom, nevermind anyone in a position to communicate basic laws and traditions to him. Bucephalus wasn't even sure how long he would stay here - this place, under the rule of whatever steed claimed to lead Halcyon. Would he ever get to meet them? Did he want to? Or would he rather be on his way, back on the road to somewhere else? He did not know. Not yet, anyway.

“It is a good morning, isn’t it? Have you ever seen something as brilliant as this?” As she turned to face him, a smile stretched across her face with delight, but it was hard for Bucephalus to imagine the effect such beauty could bring upon someone. It was a gorgeous sunrise, what, with the pillar and all, but he had just not come to appreciate such things in the way she obviously was. Still, he humored her, so as not to be rude. "I can't say I have. Even sunrise on the sea is not quite as beautiful." The white mare had already looked away from him, still in awe of the glittering stone tower before them. She was delicate looking, but obviously must have been sturdy enough to get here, with a dished profile and a lilac-tipped mane and tail. He liked her colors about as much as the dawn, which should have been prettier.

The bird took flight again, but only shortly, as it landed atop the pillar as if to keep watch over them. The mare was not at all interested in the fact that the bird had left her haunches, and Bucephalus was intrigued at the lack of scarring on her coat that might result from an owl regularly perching itself on one's back. Perhaps she had a strong hide. She turned again and looked him in the eye, but only to acknowledge his presence, it seemed, and not to threaten him. Her kindly formed head dipped, Bucephalus supposed it was some sort of greeting or sign of respect - he had seen it done before, but not often to him. He offered a nod of his head just in case. The pale stranger drew closer, significantly so, but in such a friendly way that the stallion knew there was no reason to be concerned or to move. She was drawing nearer to talk to him. That's what normal horses do (this he sometimes had to remind himself of). Her violet eyes glinted in the young sunlight, and she spoke. I am Atlanta. There, I am no longer a stranger." Her smile was kinder than any he ever could have offered her, but a half smile pushed its way across his face. "I am called Bucephalus. Glad to meet you, Atlanta." His eyes stayed on her a few moments longer, before shifting to the small silhouette at the top of the pillar. "Is that owl your friend?" He wasn't sure what else to call it.

Her gaze did not break from his, not for a long while as he spoke and as he fell silent and as she was silent she kept her eyes right on his, right on him. Strange how such a prolonged stare was so far from a threat in this context - most creatures only dare to look another in the eye for the sake of proving dominance, challenging the other. But, as it was, they were both far from aggressive - at least at the moment, for all he knew her anger was as unpredictable and uncontrollable as his was - and he was glad to be free of threat for the time being. She seemed kind, this one, but he had heard that about the Halcyonians - that was, really, why he had come to this kingdom, and not the others he had heard just as much about. Except for, well, that other one. Beritras...Beritas...Boaris...something. That one nobody knew much of anything about.

Atlanta's eyes shifted down momentarily to eye his fangs, exposed now in the rough smile he had given her. Not many were comfortable with a set of teeth like that on a horse, but Bucephalus, having grown up around a bunch of fanged siblings, was very accustomed to the thought that he might encounter other steeds that shared unusually predatory traits. To him, it was nothing, but whatever the mare had thought was masked by a smile and he figured he should not ask. "Bucephalus...a strong, wise name. That's quite a heavy burden to carry but it suits you quite well." This time his smile came on genuinely, although he made sure to keep his mouth shut. "Now what could you possibly mean by that? I like your observation but I don't believe you are familiar with that name?" The comment had been sweet, at the very least, and he didn't think much of it. Atlanta wasn't the only one to have commented on his name, but most set it sounded "exotic" or "tough" or "sophisticated." Strong, maybe, but not wise. He reasoned that Podargos, or whoever had named him, thought it a proper name for some blade-maned brute of a colt.

The black stallion's eyes flicked back to the owl as she spoke, intrigued. A constant friend. Now that was something he didn't have. He supposed most did not have the privilege of such companions, but meeting someone that did failed to make him envious. He liked being alone. He wasn't lonely. He told himself those things every day, as often as he needed to, until they felt true. The pause in Atlanta's speech made him look back to her, only to see her focused on the ground. "He saved my life." Bucephalus didn't reply until she opened her eyes again to look at him. Her apology went ungratified - there was no need for it, not to him. "Tell me dear Bucephalus, what brings you to Halcyon? Dear. Well. Alright then. He was a dear now. How adorable. No smirk adorned his features and no amusement sparkled in his eyes, all traces of sarcasm were kept in check. He let the question sink in for a moment - mostly because he was thinking about how to answer it. "I travel constantly, and I figure, living here sounds a lot better than those wastes, and so far, the only horse I've met had been quite pleasant to talk to. So I think I can walk from one end of the kingdom and be satisfied." He'd never tried something like this, since he had lived with Podargos. How long could it last?

His thoughts once again returned to the owl, and the mare's short spell of...a flashback, or some deep and compelling thought. It didn't seem right to ask her what or why or how, it was obvious enough that this owl mean the world to her and it was none of his business what the details were. The gap in conversation was not entirely uncomfortable for him, but his social skills told him it should be. "So, then, Atlanta, what brings you to Halcyon?"