Peregrine stares with intrigue at the piles of barding scattered across the ground, a mixture of both old and new, or so he thought given the degree of erosion and rusting. Perhaps it was the rot caused by the humidity or the splash of old blood, like spots of dark brown dirt; their edges flaking and crackling as he nudges a helm off to the side. The helm's plumage once a deep red, now fading and pinked with stone dust and the crush of hooves that passed along. The battlefield, or better to say, memorial didnt appear that it was treated well by the majority of Coursers and monsters that trundled through at different times of this world.

Fragile bone crunched beneath his weight, the royal behind him dancing amongst the remains with too much energy and effort spent on his behalf. Clearly the Ether wanted to respect or at least preserve the site, but Peregrine saw no use in it with the clear evidence that none other before them had nor would afterwords. Do not misunderstand him, as a warrior whose body who had likely fallen along with the others if it had been his time and his battle, he felt a sense of bittersweet remorse. Almost like he wished he had fought alongside these Coursers in their ancient battle, had taken on the beast or maybe the other Courser forces, blow to blow. He was saddened by the loses, sadden at the state of their resting place, and yet, he was all too grateful.

They had taken the killing strikes for him and the Coursers after them, he lived because they sacrificed themselves. He lived, which meant he also was given the chance to watch Aquilo grow and stay by his side; to one day fall for him too. Riding head held high and strong, mane waving behind him, in the colors of his Heart's keeper, his strong legs clad in shining metals; barding dyed the same of his... friend's. To feel the ever present feeling of the royal's silvery eyes on his back as he held the line, took the blows that could never ever reach it's poisoned claws over the hump of his shoulders.

He is bittersweet, in that he was unable to bleed for Aquilo then, no matter that he and everything he knew never existed in that time, that he would have been fighting for a different Liege; flank and shoulders pressed metal to metal as they took the lead across the cavern floor. Onward, ever onward. He still felt bittersweet for it.

Peregrine tosses his dark mane, his thoughts running as wild as the dull thrum of an aching heart in his chest, "Aquilo, this pains me so. What battlefield did they fight? Did they win or is the other side, their foe still living in the winding tunnels of this Dungeon?" His dark heavy voice sounded strained, from a lack of speech and the boiling emotions that he held at bay.

The royal hums gently, "I... can only suppose given the location. I believe it's attributed to the fall of the Yunio Kingdom, their colorations and barding speak of a time seven centuries past, their bodies lain scattered as they likely protected the fleeing royals deep into the Dungeon. A place that they may have thought would have protected them from all the slippery daggers of the Brunish assassins." He comments after a period of silence, heavy thought wrinkling his mouth, and his eyes squinting over the piles.

"...Clearly they fought well." Peregrine adds.

Moving forward, a glint of emerald green catches his own eye, buried underneath the small form of a...foal. He grimaces heavily, hoping that it be that it was a short and small grown Courser and not in fact a foal that had been caught by the blades of their opponents. 

Stepping over to the small skeleton, much more gingerly than before, the large Courser bends his neck and head low; nudging a disintergrating pouch over to reveal a pair of jeweled beetles in the barding of the small Courser. Peregrine's smile is small and sad. The Courser, whether they had been young or malformed, had been loved and cared for. The barding expensive and tailored for their stature, the killing blow easy to determine with the old stains of blood and the perforated side.

"Hello, little one. You can rest now... you fought well." He speaks softly to the bones, as if to coax the spirit of the Courser to move along if it were stuck in it's death place, his velvety nose nudging the tiny skull so it lay against the bag... as if he were laying a foal's head to bed.

Aquilo, as silent and skilled as the name that his people called him, announces his arrival with the grounding press of his sweet smelling flank to his own.

Eyeing the royal from the corner of his eyes, his task taking the majority of his attention, the liver chestnut recognizes a glint in his silver eye; a hardening and yet, somehow a softening that Peregrine could not read. Was it grief? Was it bewilderment? Curiosity?

"I wanted... to take the beetles with us, to honor the life of someone taken so young, but I don't want them to rest without a reminder of someone's love." He offers before clamping gentle lips over the gemstone enfused brooch, separating the affect from the crumbling leathers of the barding.

Aquilo remains silent, leaning further into his body as if asking the other to hold his weight up or to may be lend his own strength to ground the fine tremor he was surprised to recognize in his own sturdy legs. What could he say, as one without a family, without siblings or foals of his own and all the desire in the world to care for a family; this was devastating.

Perhaps... his first foal will be given the brooch, a sign of love that has lasted the centuries. Peregrine had no name to pass along, but he sought to make one, to give them the best home that he could build them. The breath in his chest shudders as he slides the beetles into his saddlebags, the leather oiled and well taken care of, they wouldn't be lost to the depths any longer. He will show them the light.