His stories were meant to be tunes, twisted into artistic little diddles that he often hummed or belted right out- he figured that anyone that was missing out on the finer things in life would never be able to understand that. The creatures here were sad, lost little things that had never heard a song in their life- no wonder they were all so angry and needy.

“Val-ens.” He corrects the boy, his pale brow furrowing and his blue eyes staring long and hard. What kind of mysterious little beetle had he stumbled across- gangly and with more legs than he knew what to do with. Weird talking and foreign, the boy’s heritage and voice screams barbarian and Valens guesses that the spotted stallion-colt had never had the pleasure of learning his ‘please’ and ‘thank-yous’ from his mother.

He had never heard of the ‘peak’, and kept staring. Wow, this was a big one to unpack. “What? They’re stories for me. Have you never heard stories? Lord almighty pumpkin, your momma didn’t do you no justice if you haven’t heard of stories!”

His voice reaches belligerently into the quiet of the lagoon, and Valens cannot help but scrunch up his nose and straighten his neck, looking Fearghas up and down, jaw falling slack after a moment or two when he assesses the situation.

Muddy, hair askew- the boy looked as though he had never seen a drop of water in his life.

The lack of a welcoming party forgotten, Valens reaches out and daintily grabs at Fearghas’ dark mane, tugging at it gently but urgently and guiding him towards the water. “You neef a baf, damn-nit!” He mutters through a mouthful of hair, desperately trying to aim the boy towards the warm waters of the lagoon- away from the mud puddles and hoping that once he scrubbed and rubbed the dirt and grime out of the stranger’s skin he might be given something presentable and not so painful to look at.

Jesus the people here were absolute savages.