The mare seems to recover somewhat, and I stare stupidly at her, not really knowing what to do with myself, how to react. Navigating these rivers is more difficult. And the fact that I'm trying to navigate shows that I might actually CARE what happens. Ugh. Caring. It's so exhausting to care about people. And yet, obviously, some part of me does. Not the apathetic, stoic statue that I thought I was. She moves toward me, dripping from head to toe, and stops a foot away. I stay put, sort of grouchy but sort of feels-y, and ... just confused, very confused. Mad, sad, guilty, I don't know what I am, and now I don't know what she is. Is she happy now? What the fuck are emotions.

She calls me stupid, and I don't even protest. I snort, though, showing that perhaps I don't like being called stupid. Stupid mare. She goes to explain herself, and I think I tune out most of it. I'm too distracted with her nose and crown tilting down to see eye to eye with me. I feel a little bit...... emasculated..... Damn genes. She ends with 'comrade' and my whites refocus. Comrade? Heeeeey she speaks my language! I should ask if she knows Russian.

The smile fades, and I find her stoic (but now gentle) expression more reassuring. The more emotional side of the mare is something I don't know how to handle, something I'm uncomfortable with. Everything that she has done so far in our encounter, every reaction, has left my mind slightly addled and wondering what's next. So I wait, and sure enough she starts speaking again. This time, she has more of my attention. She's out of my bubble, she might speak Russian, and she looks less happy: all is right in the world. The confirmation of possible friendship, declaration of loyalty, and gratitude expressed at my existence leaves me.. surprisingly calm, and happy. Or gruffly appreciative of good fortune.

"Very well." I stand up straighter, stiffening my body back to working order. "Loyalties noted. Good job with patrol, next spar go win it for the team. Prodolzhayte, Soldat." I give her a soldier's nod, platonic, and completely ignoring the emotional hurricane we just went through. General to his solider. Right. I look over at Damaris. 'Let's go.' I can almost feel her smile, but choose to ignore it, and she's smart to say nothing. And so, I turn and leave, ready to continue patrolling the borders in the late hours, just because. And I feel, from the words she's spoken...

Peaceful.

WC: 431
Tag: @[December]
'Prodolzhayte, Soldat.' Carry on, Soldier.

Rostislav

more than a drunken fool