Mildly surprised at the intimacy of the greeting (perhaps because she had chosen the Throat over the Edge, the most mild of slights against the Elephant), he reciprocated in kind as she extended her muzzle in greeting. Only now does he notice the freshly pierced muzzle, eyes drifting to the gold ring— so similar to the pierced muzzles of the small, southern Debwani— as his own nostrils, still flaring from his extended bout of trotting, cannot help but take in her scent: warm sands, feminine sweat, and dry heat. All things so familiar, yet so exotic upon the Amazonian mare. A grin crossed his broad muzzle as amusement laced her throaty tone, “So you did,” he agreed with her remark. He remember that she had declared her intention to visit, but few followed through once they were settled within their herdlands. “I see you’ve some new adornments. They’re fitting,” his eyes again drop to her new piercing with a lopsided grin.

At the mention of the Isles, as dark shadow crossed the King’s face, eyes following her own strangely dual-hued gaze to the pearly foal. Indeed his own wounds were minor in comparison to Erthe’s— at least the physical ones. The god-battles had affected everyone in Helovia, in some grave way. The Edge had lost a King, even; his thoughts oddly echoed the congratulatory statements Nephele voiced. Brows rise that words had travelled so quickly and so far— though matters of leadership were important for all to know.

Unable to entirely shake the shadow in his navy eyes, he nodded with a small upturn of his lips, “Your birds speak the truth. Thank you.” Though he wasn’t, himself, certain that ‘congratulations’ were right— as his regency came with the price of a daughter’s spilled lifeblood. But it was neither the time nor place for discussing such dark topics— especially as Erthe voiced that she knew how to fly.

Surprise widened his eyes, he had not known his Specter had taught her to fly. Despite the stomach-dropping fear that struck him (as flying was such a foreign idea to him; and part of him envisioned the delicate filly falling from the skies), he felt a stab of pride that she had begun using her wings. Especially given the injury to her legs.

Navy eyes warmed at the revelation, and he outright smiled. “It’s more than alright, please come past the glass, Nephele,” baritone rumbled as he took a half-step backwards, inviting her in with his massive body. The filly was right, there was very little he could deny the pearly, smiling face.

He paid for his sins. He was saved.

But some sins haunt us no matter how much we pay.