ashamin

lochan

&rakt

So taken was the haruspex with the scene before him that he forgot others might have woken and come to call. The appaloosa mare sneaked up on him, and before he could turn to see or register her presence, she spoke.

Congratulations.

The haruspex stiffened at the word, startled by his sudden company, but did not turn to face her. He merely let his face angle slightly back, caught a glimpse of her with dark eyes, before turning his attentions completely back towards his two companions.

"Thank you," Ashamin answered dumbly. He was awestruck, not fully there or capable of forming any intelligent reply. "It means a lot," he went on quietly without really knowing if that were true. Did it? He didn't know her, this was frankly a private moment. Were it not for the curiosity of his two companions, who drifted silently towards hers, he might have ignored her entirely.

Ashamin had been with Lochan long enough to understand the way he moved, the way he painted. Everything Lochan saw through his eyes, the painted buck understood. But Rakt was different, Rakt was new. Already the haruspex was struggling to adjust with another field of vision in his mind, another series of marks and flashing colors. These were his new companion's feelings, the feelings one bore after birth. Eventually Ashamin did turn, following his companions with care, and watched as Rakt and Lochan drew closer to the third cerndyr in their presence.

And when he did, Rexanna was there.

His ears fell low, his heart jumped and stuttered. He hadn't expected to see her here. He certainly hadn't expected to see her like this. He thought of how he should have told the other mare his name, thought of how thankful he was that Rex did it for him. He thought about the fact that in his mind he had just called Rexanna Rex. Like she could ever be his like that, like...

No. That wasn't who she was.

"Rexanna," he breathed into the cold with a sigh. Was she? Was she really? Lochan turned back to his bonded, Rakt explored the soft fur of the older, gray companion in the room. Ashamin struggled to make sense of it, simply closed his eyes and took in her touch to his neck. "Thank you," he said again with dumb and drunken affection that he wasn't supposed to feel. And he didn't, not really. It wasn't like that, they weren't like that because they weren't anything.

That wasn't who he was. That wasn't who they were.



""