keep keep on running, there's no place like home

Her tiara dropped slightly when the stallion first spoke, biting her lip. But of course he was hurt, not just on the outside; she hadn’t expected otherwise, but still the words stung. What right did she have to stand there crying when it was not her who had lost? Her pearlescent skin held no trace of harm, no one had touched a hair on her head, and still she felt like she was bleeding inside. Daenerys tried to pull herself together, but when she spoke again, her voice was still frail and whispering. ”I can’t go back there… Not now,” she said, only now discovering the truth in her words. It came from the heart, and she looked up at him to meet his blood-red gaze with sincerity. How she would explain her decision to Mirage she did not know, and frankly she did not spill many thoughts on the matter for the time being. If she knew the black mare as well as she thought Daenerys was sure she would understand the decision.

She let her gaze wander over him, noticing a golden sheen under the ash on his pelt. That was something new, just like her own burnt skin had peeled away to reveal shining gold beneath. Their common encounter with the God of the Sun had left them both with permanent reminders. Otherwise, he was every bit like she remembered; and she was drawn to him, she discovered now. Might be she had known it for a while, but it was not until Cineviam stood before her again that she felt the sensation in her gut return. It was not infatuation as much as fascination and curiosity attracted to what was being held just out of her reach.

She could not help but notice how he straightened himself under her gaze and she felt another prick of guilt for forcing her company upon him like this. It was so selfish, but she couldn’t just turn away, she had to make him understand. “Please. Don’t strain yourself, even warriors need to rest,” she spoke in a low, soft tone. Her body felt clumsy and disconnected from her mind; she wasn’t sure what to do next, or if she should even stay, but she took half a step closer and drew a deep breath. “I will leave you if you wish,” she said, her voice a little calmer as she looked at him to decipher his expression. Would he really want to hear a reason for her emotional state, or was she just trying to make herself feel better? “I came to Helovia because I was running from the ones that invaded my home and slayed my family…” her voice cracked and she looked away, strained by remembering all the things she had been trying to shut out. “I understand if you don’t want pity. I don’t want it either. But experiencing this battle has been like reliving what happened that day… And that’s why I’m not in the Edge, why I’m not celebrating and why I won’t return,” she spoke, her voice still thin, but with more determination than before. Death and mutilation had never struck her as things worthy of celebration.

She did not directly blame the Qian for wanting a place to call their own, Daenerys had wanted that just as much as the others, but she had hoped they could satisfy their material desires through peaceful means. When that was not the case, she saw no solution but to part their ways. She was starting to feel something else as well; a need to find her own feet in this world. So far it had been enough to devote herself completely to others, to her parents, to Mirage, to Ahriman. But maybe it was time she devoted herself a bit more to Daenerys. Stepped out of the shadow of others where she had been living most of her life, and started to challenge herself and her boundaries; getting to know who she really was and not who others expected her to be.

Velvet maw was extended, the lightest feathery touch placed on his nape, where she hoped he was not hurt; it was hard to tell, with his perpetual ashes covering his skin. She wanted to say something, but she felt so utterly and completely awkward, and if she could she would’ve flushed bright red from her own gawkiness. “I… I am pleased to see you again,” she managed, voice hushed like she hoped he wouldn’t hear and the words would be unnoticeably consumed by the dark trees around them; and yet, something in her mind was squirming and screaming, wanting him to know. Withdrawing from him, she halfway turned around and was ready to leave. If that was his wish, she would leave him to lick his wounds in peace; Dany was persistent, but she knew to draw a line. But not before the tiniest of smiles had run across her lips. Just like the old days.