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 Posted: Fri Jun 09, 2017 5:19 pm
There were a lot of war horsemen, but as far as Rep was concerned some were a lot weirder than others. Fest was one of the weirdest ones he knew but he had a soft fondness for the guy, as hopelessly devoted as he was to someone in completely the wrong clan. Fest had a pal called Lydia who was a priestess and was stuck for ever being unable to be her ******** Death guardian, for ever separated in that one thing. He related to the guy's plight. For him it was just the other way around, permanently stuck in a situation where he'd probably never be a priestess and therefore would never really able to be the partner that brought out the maximum potential in Harrison.
Of course with Rep there was the problem that when he was fond of someone he was about five hundred percent more likely to harass them. It was for this reason that rather than stopping by and perhaps asking Fest to go for a walk or go to get something to eat he showed up and gave him an irritable look. Rep was good at sneaking up on people, even in spite of his loud voice and bright colours he really could creep when he wanted to. It helped with dramatic effect when he finally snapped at the other war horsemen.
"How are you ever going to match up to a guardian unless you put as much effort into fighting and training as you do into looking like you belong in Death?!"
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Posted: Sat Jun 10, 2017 8:39 am
Fest rankled, feathers fluffing in irritable answer. There was no love lost between him and the majority of his clansmen, but being reminded of his ties to the War Clan was the quickest way to get his dander up.
"Oh?" He asked, looking away from the human News Article he was reading. "Is that what the loincloths are for? Morning efficiency? I find I'm at my most efficient in something tailored, rather than something sloppily carved off the back of the dead."
He was well-aware, however, of both their situations. If he and Harrison could swap, everyone involved would be all the happier for it. He didn't question why Harrison wasted his time with a Chief rather than serving a Priestess, as was his station and obligation. From an outside standpoint, it was ludicrous. Chiefs operated alone, physically powerful and crushing anyone in their way (occasionally including allies that had wandered too close). Priestesses worked in the realm of dreams, and stood as one of the most powerful and also the most vunerable members of the clan. From that standpoint, Harrison's fixation was ludicrous. However, Fest knew It was ultimately not about titles, or roles, or anything except what was forbidden to both of them. The good of a particular individual, rather than the good of the clan. The importance of that person excluded all else.
He snapped the newspaper open and turned the page. "But perhaps the clumsy smells of everything you've ever killed are integral to the hunt."
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