He moves slowly, his head lost in thought, the going-on’s in his world partially lost on his senses. Viriarus had stormed Scythia in the form of a one-woman army. Her fury at Paduan and Courant’s ‘love-child’ had been obvious, the winds and flames whipping about the meeting with uncontrolled emotion. In any other situation, Taboo would have been fain to listen to her concerns in silence and take them into account, especially considering she had been queen of the Valkyries sometime in the past. But her ire had irked him, rubbed his patchwork flesh the wrong way. A bitter taste invades the stallion’s mouth. He should not have lost his temper like that but his words had been necessary. He was king of Scythia and she was no longer the monarch of the warrior maids. Amber eyes narrow against the light breeze, lashes effectively keeping out the largest of debris. It didn’t matter whether or not he had lost his temper; it all boiled down to the facts and the fact is, he would not be backing down from the mare any time soon.
So lost in his thoughts as he is, he fails to note the warm scent on the air. It curls about his frame in a lover’s caress yet several moments pass before his mind and senses exchange information. Tia. Warmth immediately floods his veins at the thought of the Southern queen. He had once been a member of the South, brought back to life by the queen’s encouragement. But then he had struck out on his own, wandering the Vistas before joining the Rajputs and finally taking the Scythian crown. His only regret in his journey had been leaving the gray mare’s army; it felt sort of like a betrayal and he could not stand breaches in loyalty. She breathed life into him. One might consider him a victim of unrequited love, but it’s not really that at all. While it’s true that, if she decided that the batwinged general of the South no longer captivated every fiber of her being, Taboo would find himself first in line to win her affections. But perhaps this would be a mistake; perhaps it is simply sibling-like affection elevated by admiration, a far cry from an earth-shattering romance.
A self-deprecating grin spreads across his lips at his own thoughts and he slows, bright eyes searching the wind-swept plains of his home. As far as he knows, Tia Maria does not possess the stone of Elyria, thus she will not be privy to his tangled thoughts, a relief to say the least. He has no doubt that the resourceful queen will find him and he is not disappointed. She moves with a fluid grace and he searches her features for any clue as to the nature of her visit. He meets her smile with one of his own, genuine emotions lighting up his own countenance. Skull inclines in response to her bow, his poll brought low in a show of respect. A wry grin meets her words, weight shifting across all fours to allow a hind to rest. Thank you. What brings you to Scythia? I trust the Isle’s fare well? A million questions riot about his mind but he holds his tongue, unwilling to berate her with them just yet. He glances down then back up, meeting her gaze. I’ve missed you … Knowing that, in their camaraderie, she will not take his words the wrong way, he speaks candidly, honesty in his voice.
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