She sobs again, and he instantly goes back to his hovering from a distance with his fretful eyes and frowning face. The wind is almost unnoticed, tousling his wet mane into individual thick ropes (though the unkempt state of the thing leant to such occurrences naturally) and tickling the soft flesh of his neck.

He’s not really very good with crying girls, but he does try. That his words have made her almost cry again is distressing – he instantly regrets his offer even if the next word is thanks.

How lonely must she really be if even the thought of not being alone anymore was so painful? What had she done to be so hidden from others, who had she been in her life before now? He remembered his first few weeks after he’d assaulted Shadow, hiding in the outskirts of the Edge and pondering just disappearing for the betterment of them all.

He looks at her with a new soft sadness, a realization and possible answer coming to his mind that is a terrible one, one he had narrowly avoided himself and which he buried away in shame, in horror of who he could be, of what he had been in that moment and the beasts that lay so close beneath the surface.

She’s looking back at him, though, and he doesn’t want to talk about what he’s just thought of anymore than she wants to talk of what truly has left her soul so broken; he hides the bleak thoughts behind a smile, a faint thing that hovers meekly on his lips. He knows it’s not always easy to change your life around, but her simple offer to visit him is a cheerful one, an odd occurrence considering she wears wings – but he does wear the feather of another mare, one who calls herself his friend.

Is it redemption enough for him?

Her nose is suddenly next to his, and a sudden shiver of anxiety wracks him where only worry had resided before. His eyes widen, his muscles bunch, but he does manage to hold his muzzle fast where it is though his ears splay backwards in inexplicable, illogical terror of being so near to someone else.

She smells like wind, skies, like clouds and rain and snow, saturated in the salt of the sea and saline in her tears, and her breath is warm and pleasant as he shares his own with her.

When she pulls away she’s awkward more than sad with her thanks and complements; he finds himself smiling despite the fact that his ears are still partially backwards and he likely looks like a total moron.

"Thanks," he says, clearing his throat gruffly as he relinquishes the stiffness in his muscles and his face manages to return to its normal placidity, "it rubs off on you living in that forest." His laugh is rich and full, one of the few true ones he’s let loose into the wind since coming to this land – but despite the sadness of the girl who’d found him on the beach and the usual heavy thoughts he carried around with him, he can’t help but laugh as he pokes fun at the cheerful band who have stolen his heart.

And somehow, he thinks Cirrus needs it right now, too.

@[Cirrus]