Desreal: old friend and new enemy;

Choke lingered near where Rook was, the Somnambulist standing near the edge of the water where he could see his father’s reflection as the taller stallion strolled up behind him. He always had that casual pace about himself; lumbering along through the dried, frozen stalks of grasses without much care. Rook turned slightly to catch his father’s blank and unstaring eyes, “Wolf.” He regarded in his usual gruffness – the tables had turned.

Choke tilted his head down, water pouring down the side of his face as he gave an awful looking grin. He always reminded Rook of the Grim Reaper for some reason, and he never wanted to know why, his smile was so uninviting that even Rook stepped back slightly. “Viper,” Choke said, stopping to stand beside him. His eyes lingered out to the water and his ears pitched forward to hear the sounds of it. “It’s going to rain.”

“I know.” Rook said.

“I know.” Choke replied.

A heavy silence fell between them, the thought of Corrigan curdling and going sour in the back of Rook’s throat. “You brought Shark back.” Rook mentioned, wanting to steal the child back but knowing the complications of it. “Don’t even think about stealing him – things are fine. He’s happy knowing you aren’t around.” As if Choke could read his son’s mind but in reality, the stallion was well aware of the shadow’s inner workings.

“Tell me about Icarus.” Because that part always intrigued Choke, that his son would turn out the same way he had. “I think he’s convinced I don’t want him around. Which, isn’t the case at all – I’d rather have him there, with me, but Wyvern keeps him close and I don’t think he likes me much.”

Choke laughed, his velvet voice brimming with an untainted happiness that even self-centered Rook noticed. The water slopped down the side of his shoulder and went spiraling in messy drips down his long limber leg before freezing along the way. Choke’s breath came out chilled as the water frosted along his sides and his hair rigid from being wet in the unbearable cold. “Maybe he’s attracted to self confidence Rook, you don’t have much of it anymore – not after that fall. And then there’s Magnolia, with Harlequin.”

Of course there is, and the thought of it made Rook sigh – happy. “I miss them.”

“Go home then.” Choke wasn’t ever much of a conversationalist when it came to speaking with Rook, the boy was a walking contradiction and difficult to please.

“What of Nyota?” Rook asked, ignoring Choke’s comment to leave. The shadow was a ways away from his father now as the two of them lingered along the frozen edges of the water. In Choke’s wake he left several silver-blue hoof prints in his place, where water fell but froze immediately thereafter. While they walked throughout the glade, Choke talked of Nyota, of everything they had done and had yet to do. He spoke of his unborn child and discussed possible names he’d have if it was to be a boy or maybe a girl. Rook offered his own thoughts on names and together they bickered over what sounded bad and what sounded good. Nyota was well and their love for each other was uncompromising. To Choke it was perfect and that was what he spoke most of. Advice was shared, but soon the conversation ended and Rook needed to go back.

“Will I see you again Wolf?” Rook asked, curious green eyes watching Choke underneath blackbird bangs. “Not until after the child is born. Nyota needs me.” He said, standing at the same spot they met at. Rook nodded and left then, leaving Choke to his quiet contemplation now. Impressed that his father was trying harder this time to involve himself within the Element that had caused his early demise long ago, there was something different about him though—something Rook could not put his thoughts to just yet. There was an overly sinister feeling about the whole situation, as if it were too perfect.

Take care of yourself… The wind rustled, but Rook was already gone when the voice curled against Choke’s always-listening ears.

“I will, Rook.” Choke smiled a sleepy smile before nipping idly at the wheat stalks that batted against his legs.

“I will…”

f i n d i n g b e a u t y i n t h e d i s s o n a n c e