when I pretend everything is what I want it to be

I look exactly like what you had always wanted to see

At last the tension eased from Lena’s frame as the Thief curled himself around her, the warmth of her shoulder against his a soothing pressure. He was content to endure the silence as long as it lasted, lowered gaze settled upon the waving grass and the glint of sunlight across the surface of the water. The Mender was a sturdy presence against his side, and Roland found himself leaning into her as time wore on, the rhythmic melody of the stream coupling with birdsong to replace the sound of their voices. It was peaceful, and in spite of his worries he was glad she had brought to light the doubts that plagued her. At ease in the secluded refuge of cattails and wild flowers, Roland brushed his chin across the curve of Lena’s shoulder, breathing out a quiet sigh. He shivered against the ghostly blossoms of her touch, arcing over the curve of his neck, through the copper tangle of his mane, and skimming across his cheek, spreading warmth in the wake of her ministrations. Roland was certain he was undeserving of her gratitude, poured forth from her in the form of feather light kisses pressed to the bronze of his hide, yet he couldn’t help the urge to drown himself in her proffered comfort.

He had never been on the receiving of such care before, after all. His mother had never been around to hold and guide him; instead he’d grown up distanced from the shadow of her wing, and held no memory of her face or voice. All he had was the knowledge that she must have been, at some point. As soon as he could stand, he had been thrust into the pious arms of an orphanage, a home for outcasts and undesirables, and had only known doting matrons and a flock of other vagabond children. He had hoped to attain some sort of explanation from his father, but once they had crossed paths three years down the road he was met with nothing but mockery and ridicule. There was little chance of him finding his mother again. He knew he never wished to set eyes upon his father once more, for it could very well mean the Thief’s undoing, and he would not uproot another carefully structured presence again for the sake of his own kin. Blood relations were not a necessity to sustain happiness, to find purpose beyond the rusting chain of his familial ties. He had everything he needed under the shadow of the Basin’s mountains. And even if these friends and allies were not bound by blood, he would still consider them family. Parents were trivial things to him now, and even if at times he lamented the missed opportunity for a childhood of serenity, in the present he was much happier to have Lena at his side. There were much more pressing matters at hand, after all.

Roland withdrew reluctantly from her embrace, ears flattening anxiously as he listened to her speak of favors to come, in place of the offer he had denied. He could hardly accept more from her when he felt he deserved none of her kindness and patience, her everlasting tolerance that had stood the test of all his failings and flaws, but he couldn’t help smiling at her stubborn perseverance. “I look forwards to it,” he responded with a courteous bow of his head, casting her a playful wink.

And then her expression softened, the playful light in her eyes dimming once more, and Roland could not help but lower his gaze at the veracity of her appreciation. Kind was not a word he found well suited to his character. Untrustworthy, maybe, manipulative and calculating. He was not a giver, he was a taker, and if any good had been done by him in the past or present, he was blind to it. Nevertheless, he accepted her gratitude with a muted smile, reaching out to nudge at her muzzle with his own. With any luck the fleeting contact would distract from whatever troubled her. Hoping there was not too much sincerity in his words, or any contract he could not uphold, Roland offered her a promise. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be here.”

@[Lena]