debonaire

Debonaire is no stranger to the illusions an unstable mind can conjure; much of his life had been spent in solitude, with only memories to cling to for comfort. If one lingered in their past for long enough, its ghosts inevitably broke free of their bonds to walk beside you in the present. Usually it is members of his scattered family that haunt him - Hikea, whom he had parted ways with in search of their son. Their daughter Cherish, who has not been seen since she'd returned to the Islands to rejoin her half-brother Rade. Xina and their unborn child. Neassa, her once-spirited eyes brimming with sorrow. Even his parents had visited to say their final farewells to the son they'd been forced to exile so many years ago.

Today, however - perhaps because he is so close to the home they'd once shared - it is Kasabian who emerges from the depths of Debonaire's memory to keep his company.

The tawny stallion is vaguely surprised, at first, at the changes that mark the buckskin man. Despite his predictable enthusiasm at this reunion, he is not as youthful as he had remained in the recesses of Debonaire's mind. But the older stallion, bringing his forward motion to a sudden halt, takes Kasabian's transformation in stride. A spectre could undoubtedly alter their appearance at whim. Perhaps his friend's hobbling gait was a reflection of the handicap that has all but disabled one of his own hind legs. Shifting his pose so that the hoof of that limb barely skims the ground, Debonaire's breath huffs out in a sigh. In that single soft sound, there is a world of sorrow - and a touch of exasperation. It was not a very convenient time for ghosts to come calling, but the past was seldom concerned with matters of the present - or the potential calamities of the future.

It was also rare that they spoke, but if they did, their words typically carried the weight of more than one meaning. Riddles veiled in riddles.

"Kasabian? I-I wasn't looking for you, was I?" His mind is muddled, as it has been too often since the tragedy he had suffered; for a moment he is left struggling to remember why he is here. "I was looking for someone, but I don't remember who." The older buckskin finally admits with a vague sense of frustration. It was important, he had to warn - why has Kasabian chosen now to return? An alarming idea begins to tug at the corners of his mind, and Debonaire shakes his head in vehement denial.

"You - I mean - Are you real?" He blurts out after a moment of silence, dropping his gaze to the sand and shying away from the spirit of his old friend. He wasn't dead too. He couldn't be.

Was he?