quite eradicated
“Fiction” was an idea that Ezekiel did not fully grasp. He was a man who lived an unromantic life. Tooth and claw were all he knew, for art was useless in the wild. What would was admiring a pretty bird when he could eat it? What beauty was there in a flower he could use to heal a wound? His sister had been the right brain to his left, and reason and order were things he knew. This was why he worked in simple ways, and did not take or do more than what he deemed necessary. The painted totems amongst his cave would say otherwise, but his sister had made all of them—the painted skull, the portrait of them, the few odds and ends she had made beyond that—but he liked them because she had made them.
“The first is Conquest. He rides a white horse. The second is War, who rides a red horse. Pestilence rides a black horse, and Death rides a pale horse. It is said that when the seven seals are broken, they will ride forth as the harbingers of The Last Judgement.” Finished with one wing, he moved onto the other. At his feet, the fire grew to a large size. He was glad for this, though he would need to wait for the flames to cool to coals before roasting the skin. Something hard and black was not what he intended to give this girl. “I’ll let you borrow my copy. Then we can talk about them when we finish.”
He shifted his weight, arched his back, and sighed. “There’s more books here too,” he went on. “My dad brought a bunch back from the city and left them in the Mansion. You’re welcome to read whatever you want from there.”
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