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His dark hooves found purchase on sturdy mountain stones as Promethius climbed the lonely mountains that had come to be so familiar to him. The wind whipped his unruly mane about, but his golden eyes looked on firm.

It had been some number of moons since he'd taken residence in this solitary place. He had sinned horridly, and his self-imposed exile was both meant for him to atone, and protect him from the pain that was sure to come if he showed his horrid face again in society. The stallion since his initial 'awakening' had refused to look at his reflection, and thus was not aware of how, since that horrid day, he'd changed. Scars were, for the most part, healed, and for the most part he just looked rugged and unkempt. The true monster had been what lack of love and acceptance had turned him into.

He was not that monster anymore. Still, it was the fear of pain that kept him from returning. The fear that he would once again be met with the same lack of acceptance and scorn. And so, he traveled these mountains where scarcely even did the eagles soar.

It always seemed to be fairly windy on this side of the mountain. The higher up one went the colder those winds got, till at last it was just rock, snow, and ruins,...maybe a cold-hardy shrub or two. Promethius was making his way back up to that cold home when he noticed the other land.
Oh what he'd have given to have been able to pull his cape up over his face!. Instead he kept his head low - hair flopping into his face - as he continued his trek up the mountain.

It would seem though that this other being was intent on coming down. And the same path as he was on no less! He couldn't blame them - it was the easiest way.
This would be the first visitor he had received since his self-imposed exile. What were they doing here, he wondered. He know, however, the horror that could take place if he were to ask, so he quickly took to the higher path with was but a careful climb higher. Thankfully there was dirt there in which his hooves could find purchase enough to hoist himself up. It was all a matter of staying out of sight - not an easy task for the abnormally large stallion, but thanks to the foliage, he could try.

Promethius has been content to walk in the shadow provided by the forest. If nothing else it hid his most garish features in it's darkness. However he had not expected to have been noticed. Even if he had been, he figured no one would approach him based on his size alone.
but then came a voice from behind him, and with the swiftness of someone used to every nuance of the surrounding forest, turned to face the source of the sound, keeping his face in the darkness, although his pale yellow eyes caught the light and held it.

A smile. It was a bittersweet gift that Promethius carefully took in.
"Yes?" came a voice that sounded very hoarse. Damaged vocal chords had ensured him a voice that would always sound like a painful yet alluring whisper, and there was just the faintest bit of an accent there. His voice conveyed clearly his timidness, and a gentleness, but predominately was composed of weariness.

"Promethius," he offered his own name in reply. He then eyed her wings. Flying was of no use on this side of the mountain... "If you intend to fly than it would be best to continue to the apex of the mountain, and down the other side a ways. Then you would be sheltered from the wind." he rasped, voice occasionally 'breaking' on certain vowels or sounds.

Promethius was doing his own looking. She was not as small and fragile looking as some he had encountered, but it had been a while. She did not seem afraid, but then again he was doing his best to hide in the darkness. She seemed of a darker shade than he, and free from physical wounds. Her eyes stood in start contrast. He tried to not make it seem as if he were assessing her, but he was truly a curious creature.

That sudden light was a damnable thing to Promethius. He immediately tried to shy away from it, but to no avail. He saw the mare's reaction and mistaking it for thinly veiled horror turned and began a hasty trek through the forest, calling back;
"You don't want to know," shaking his head.

He knew not what he would do if she pursued, but he knew he could not stand there and see that face wrenched in disgust.

“You need not burden yourself with the knowledge of my sins,” came the stallion’s swift, heartfelt, reply as he plodded along up the mountain.

Even if she did not shy away from his looks, what chance was there that anyone could not be repulsed at what he had done? He had killed others. Other innocent beings. Promethius felt such deep remorse for his past actions… They were hard for him to deal with - he could only imagine how another would do so.

"One cannot hear what I have been through and not come to some judgment. It is the nature of the beast." And society is a brutal, brutal beast.

Promethius could not be sure that if he were pushed to it, he would not commit his crimes over again. Rejection warps the psyche, and tears it apart until all morals are but weak suggestions, and ethics are vain whispers. Emotions are a tricky thing to mess with. Sensitive...

"If I tell you," his voice, young but marred finally spoke again as he continued his trek, "I will do it on my land." Because there he had a right to be. He would not be chased off as he had from the homes of others.