It seemed Kaj's attempts at understanding the woman were futile, his conversation derailed, ignored and flippantly disregarded. The man gave a hearty sigh to see her vapid vacancy, the emptiness of her eyes, the defensive pose of her posture. His words seemed imperfect, and though she did not deserve it, he found himself desiring to apologize. For what? He had not only listened to her pleas and not fought her, but he had been kind to her to the best of his abilities, had tried to even offer her free reign rather than locking her up inside the prison and forgetting about her. Yet she still found him lacking? What else could he have possibly done? Any other would have been far harsher, considering it was her own fault she'd been taken prisoner in the first place. She was infuriating in her shifting moods and demands, and Kaj despised it.

He is distracted from his frustration by the approach of another, eyes flickering and then catching when form is categorized, recognized. They'd not spoken one-on-one since their odd reunion, as much as Kaj desired to know what had happened to Ink after he had disappeared - under Kaj's watch, at that. His guilt had never truly disappeared over the years, his desire for atonement still present. To know that Ink was not truly dead was a blessing, and it eased the constant throb of darkness in the back of his mind - the one that detailed all the people he had failed, the ones he'd hurt and let down. It had grown far too much since the invasion.

"Ink," he breathed in greeting, turning so that he could keep both mare and stallion in proper, respectful acknowledgment of his gaze. "It is good to see you after so long, my friend," was rumbled pleasantly, eyes like bright summer skies and friendship, lips twitching into sincere, smiling configurations. Moving towards the other soul he proffered nares and muzzle, features calm and inviting. Unaware of the amnesiac state of his brother and oldest friend, there was no reason for him not to indulge in such displays. Until Drom's words registered, at least, swallowed up by whatever injustice he had committed in her vocals.

Sighing softly Kaj backed away from the master painter and turned his attention, undivided this time, back to the woman at hand. "I regret that my words are not comforting you, I've nothing more to offer you. I do wish to become your friend, hate consumes far too much energy and muddles logic I'd rather reserve. You may leave when you are fully healed, though I would press that you remain until Frostfall has passed, or..." trailing off, Kaj tilted head to regard her, a plan formulating inside his head. Toying with it in prolonged silence, he wondered if it was even appropriate of him to offer the alternative. "Or, if you interact with three members of my herd and attempt to understand our reasoning, who we are as people rather than warriors, then you may leave sooner. Perhaps with more of the wisdom you claim to seek." It was finished with a soft rumble, the hand extended, the possibility drawn out. Whether she took it or not was her choice. Again, it was down to whether she could swallow her abnormally large pride.

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Drom can be released at your leisure (whenever you say she's fully healed), stay until after Frostfall freely, or for plot purposes she can interact with three other herd members and be let go "early"!