By the precepts of her purity

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Of course she truly couldn’t manage understanding how not getting a clear answer could ever satisfy someone enough to the point of being as gratefully relieved as he seemed to be, especially because she was still searching for that same answer herself.  …But in all fairness, that was the scholar within her rising its eyebrows, rather than the priestess. Two faces of her being that held a strong stance in the contrasts that marked her life.

As his bright blue eyes looked down on her alabaster face she discovered he hadn't been one of faith for long. Nevertheless, she remembered Kaj was the one who had ruled the World’s Edge alongside Kahlua before they had taken over the Edge. Was that the reason he felt unsure about finding his faith with the Earth? Perhaps the Earth wasn’t even his god, she pondered along. Either way she would not care and did not know enough of the matter to think about it for long. She did, however, continue to wonder how he could be new to religion as a leader of his herd in the first place and also within his fame that he didn’t seem to know he held. She had always thought religion was important for a herd to survive, but that might have been because of the strong religious bond the Dragon’s Throat had with their God – or at least that was what the history of Gaucho’s Ascended rule had taught her – so maybe there were other ways, as well and perhaps she would ask him about it one day.

As Maren pulled back her nose from Kaj's, she smiled, for it seemed that… perhaps, she had finally found someone who understood her, perhaps someone who would even agree with her ways. My religion – Oh, if only she could share her faith of the Cherry Oak with someone – what a liberation it would be. At that same moment, however, she randomly noticed something else that made her blink for a moment of confusion, as her wings shuffled beside her cheeks, her own golden gaze left wondering: How is he able to push out his emotions through his eyes like that? As if she was looking into the wrong side of the mirror. One that became opaque after the turbulence of his breath had found her mind.

The priestess-mare let it sink in, accidentally, and too late she realized that a strange but familiar kind of silence had fallen between them. She wondered what to do with it, as it was left there so vividly invisible between them. Finally she scraped her throat, let her now flickering gold eyes wander after she had done a step back. And, even though her wings shuffled besides her cheeks once again, she was not one to simply flail down to ones hooves (This was a holy place after all), just because he had a nice speech going for him… and nice lips to push them out. It didn’t mean anything – and it would not. It never does.

“...Although don’t mistake me, my beliefs do have certain layers to them.” Like herself. She smiled of sorts, tilted her head then – slightly, like she did. The mare couldn't help but to not be surprised by the words of a gentleman. Still, for his efforts she fluttered her white lashes underneath gold eyes; the violet shimmering beneath the burgundy, pursuing whatever was left.  “I think I wouldn’t mind that. I might be able to… enlighten your path with the limited knowledge I possess,” smiling along also with glimmering golden irises. “You are welcome to visit me in the Throat if you are comfortable crossing the waters to our island,”  she said with her exotic voice outlined by a certain, well-sourced confidence… One she could not find in watching him search for the right tares. That required something totally different, like trust. Her eyes followed him as he left her standing so that he could find whatever it was he needed; she left attempting to think of something else for no reason (except the one she didn’t want to think about) and her mind trailed to how of course she had merely been humble when she told him to come seek her out, for she knew her knowledge was something sacred and valuable, thus having it actually been more of a wordplay meant for herself to enjoy. The road to all knowledge still remained a journey with no end.

He apparently knew what he was doing, since he was wrestling with the plants he had found to smash it into some kind of gunk. She generally trusted green stuff and as he came closer with his nose dripping with green, her ears trailed his movements. “Messy…” she repeated in thought as she watched him work his nose past her burned, itching skin. It stung, but she kept silent, for she did not want to put his efforts to shame. Perhaps the stinging only meant that it was working, or something. She didn’t mind messy, but this was not the kind of mess she knew something about. Still, it made her smile, if only just slightly. She watched him with humor as he turned his face back to her after he was done (His eyes still blue). She snorted mockingly. “Your nose is green,” she stated, but felt curious nevertheless. So she moved her nose closer to his as her nostrils widened, attempting to smell whatever the fruitcake it was supposed to be that he had dared to smear on her burned hide. “Do you even know what you are doing with that,” she couldn't help but mutter in a questionable way, as she crossed her squeezed eyes to properly cast a... thoughtful (dirty) look on the Czar's green, left-over-sludge painted nose.