Hollow. In the emptiness, he could hear everything, his pulse, her breath, the sounds of the oncoming night—if he strained, he thought he could even hear the faint, astral song of stars, their hum as they flickered into life on a darkening sky. And, he could hear it too, the faint cracking of his life, how it kept fraying at the seams; the sound of the walls coming down, the first trickle of warmth, and life, back into his veins. After all, isn't guilt an emotion..? Doesn't shame indicate that you know something..?

But mostly, he was just disappointed, in himself. Wasn't he stronger than this? Wasn't he humble enough to know, that he could not always come out on top? Wasn't he more in control? Slowly, the emptiness of his eyes filled up, the faintest traces of guilt and that ever-present, gentle sadness. It clung to him like a second skin, something he'd been cloaked in for years and years and never quite been able to cast off. He was burdened by all the silent words he yearned to yell out, dragged down by the secrets he clutched to his chest—slowly breaking underneath all the things he had to bear, alone, simply because there was no one he could tell. Because some things ought to stay buried forever, and only the echo of their changes reverberating through the world. It lay buried beneath the dirt, with only his own redemption whispering it had ever existed.

And so, with defeat lingering along the edges of his posture, and his hollow eyes whispering of some kind of life beneath their crystal surfaces, he looked upon the mare who neither yelled at him, nor fled with whatever mercy he'd given her. Instead, she seemed just as tired as he did, just as eager to be rid of the tension, of the anger; of yells and fear and terror, pain. She had every right to call him out on his irrationality, but she didn't—simply admitted to the familiar agony, and again, his eyes flickered away into the night. He had not pushed her into the fire, but he almost felt as if he had, with the pull of his silhouette and the thrumming anger. Ears hanging back, Mauja chanced a glance at her again as she moved around, charred skin probably screaming at every movement. What was she doing? In quiet consternation he watched as she folded her legs, and fell into the earth's embrace, here somewhere in the middle of everything, halfway between nowhere and everywhere.

Valiantly she muffled a cry as she moved her wings. One of Mauja's ears twitched. Oh, he knew the exhaustion that came on the tail end of agony, of the desire to simply crumble and fall asleep and never wake up again to the body's rhythmic pounding, but—out here? Where the stars watched and who knew what dangers lurked into the shadows? She made herself defenseless and vulnerable, at the hooves of someone who had just barely reined his monster in. Was she so full of trust for his sudden change, or simply too exhausted, too inexperienced not to know not to fall asleep on the field of battle? Feeling too confused to make sense of it he simply watched and listened as she spoke, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "I had no right," he said quietly, bitterly. Oh, maybe he had a right to lecture her on the folly of seeking danger, but the rest..? It had just—happened. Happened, when she yelled at him, and that vast well of self-pity had opened up and swallowed him whole.

He remained where he was, some space between them there in the budding starlight. Tiredly she looked at him; tiredly he looked back, not sure if he should go closer or not. He was too tired to grow angry again, but not sure if he was allowed to come closer. "Mauja," he simply responded, not quite sure what else to say, either. The fire had marked her as its own, obliterating any sense of herd with its scorching flames. The scent of burnt hair was overwhelming. "Where are you from?"

[ <3 you get my 700th! ]