Matteo

It's tough to be a god

How curious an evening it was to spend such time in conversation with a horse and yet- how many evenings had he already spent in just such a fashion as this? Matteo had surely lost count of the times himself and Alexander and whatever army that followed them had ridden or marched for miles upon miles when there was little save the horses beneath them to converse with after everyone around them had become tired and withdrawn from the strain of war. This, however, was most surely the first time a horse had ever truly spoken back with anything beyond those lingering looks or shifting ears. Perhaps he could see the appeal Alexander seemed to find in those Were's. It was a pleasant thing, to speak with a horse, even if that horse had become convinced of his own grandeur. Calliel so mistaking her own gifts for some power upon his part to hear those words she offered him. Matteo, for now, content to allow her to believe that very thing and yet he had little intention of continuing to let such a belief persist beyond this evening. After all, Calliel would surely find herself in some manner of trouble if she projected her thoughts with no filter to all around her. Still, the Frenchman could hardly deny the amusement he took in her belief that it was surely he whom had taught Alexander all he had known. Matteo taking a distinct pride in having but one being upon that earth believe that very thing- even if he intended to afford her the truth before the evening was out.

It was her questions upon those supernatural species that so gave the near-ancient Fae that pause for thought. Ah, but a curious question! Matteo inclined to consider his own species and what might make it, as she said, dangerous. How unlike any other the Fae race truly was. How readily they had long been perceived as the weakest or most delicate of the species outside of humans and yet, while he so surely agreed with but some of those sentiments, Matteo was near assured that Fae had much to offer in turn. Their race had been....forgotten over the years. Pushed to the very brink of extinction the world had forgotten the very force that Fae had once been, his own people had forgotten, so much of their culture had been lost over time. Matteo himself so often described by those who knew as possessing a demeanor, a manner, a way of being that was 'true' to the Fae breed and now lost over time. Bred out perhaps by that interbreeding with humans. Those Fae born today so unlike they had once been in nature. So unlike Matteo himself. His own son, in the least, possessed some of that impishness that had once been so valued and too that clever, questioning mind. That answer he offered his newfound companion was carefully considered. Calliel, in turn, seeming to think upon those words as his fingers stroked at that softened fur in a near absentminded gesture of affection for the animal. Calliel, it seems, satisfied with his answer and yet desiring to know more as he nose bumped agianst his hand. Matteo content to gently rest his hand upon that soft appendage.

"We do not heal. Vampires, Weres, Hunters- species like that heal rapidly from any wound. We do not. At least, most of us do not. There are some amongst us who have lived long enough to overcome even that."

There was little harm to be had in informing the girl of the Fae inability to heal with rapidness that way so many other species did. Fae, like humans, taking days, weeks, even months to heal from wound or injury. Perhaps disease could hardly afflict them, yet injury was another matter entirely. Calliel's mention of the downside of that longevity prompting a near rueful smile to his lips. Ah, but how right she was. How many had he seen die? How many had he outlived? How many had he lived long enough to see become his enemy when they had once been his friend? His words were gentle then, just as before, those accented notes offered softly.

"A long life is not so much a limitation as it is a disadvantage, in some instances. You are right, Mon Cherie, I have outlived many whom I once cared for. I am fortunate that many of those I care for now are of the same immortal breed and yet it is merely human nature to form attachments with others. In a few years I will suffer the loss of them again and yet- though it pains me every time they die, I would sooner feel that then nothing at all. I would much sooner live then retreat from the world. I have seen the world ten times over. It is a glorious and terrible place all at once. It is other people whom make it worth living for."

That ready, warm simper so found his lips again. Matteo, despite his own reservations over those years inclined to admit that, despite it all, despite those horrors and nightmares and deaths and diseases and hardships- it was surely better to live then not at all. That he would not trade but one of those people he cared for. After all, it was they who made that very life worth living even if he so often questioned his own place within it. Calliel spoke of horses then and her own disenchantment with her species. Matteo inclined to afford her a near curious look. Ah, but what a terrible thing to speak with anything but pride for a horse! The best of animals. The greatest of animals in so many ways. How fortunate Calliel was that Alexander had not been here to hear her words! Matteo, as he moved to plait her forelock into that war braid, content to inform her of the very value of her species. After all, it was not upon the back of any other animal that the world had been one time and time again. Calliel, in that moment, displaying her youthful naivety as she insisted it was because those other animals could not be ridden. Ah, to be young again! Matteo inclined to chuckle then.
"And so for all the strength of a lion or tiger or wolf- they are useless. They offer nothing- save for their pelts which humans have long hunted them for and do you know, mon Amie, what they did with the skins and furs from the tigers and wolves and lions they hunted? They draped them across their horses- Alexander himself used to dress his horse in a leopard skin blanket. A horse is to valuable to hunt. He means to much. You are not 'just' a horse, Mon Amie. You are one of the most valuable animals to have ever lived."

That, surely, might afford her some understanding of her own value and worth. Whether she chose to believe it or not was surely a choice of her own making and one she need come to herself and yet- the Frenchman was near assured he had presented that argument well. Matteo offering that mare another warm simper as he finished plaiting her forelock before stepping back ever so slightly to examine his work. It was, he supposed, time to offer her that truth.

"I fear I cannot tease you any longer, Mon Amie, I am not so great a horse whisperer as you believe. Rather, it is you with that power. You are projecting your voice to me, with you mind. I am doing nothing. It is a talent many WereHorses learn to speak with their riders and you too, it seems, have mastered it."