"Any help is welcome," the Diviner said kindly, though Sohalia imagined that she saw a look of pity in her golden gaze. Did Maren know of the history between she and the WildFire? Did she suspect that Sohalia's heart had been torn from her chest, that all of her memories left her torn and bleeding, that her guilt meant to crush and consume her? Did she know that Gaucho had been the center of the Transcended's little world, that he had been the stallion to gift her with (most of) her children, that he had offered her undying love and devotion, that he had always had the best of intentions for her and for them, even if he'd had an odd way of showing it at times? Sohalia's bicolored eyes found the sand beneath her feet, a deep breath lifting her shoulders and expanding her chest, only to be expelled as a soft sigh.

When she looked up again, there was nothing but a quiet thoughtfulness in Maren's gaze as the tiger mare looked around the half-built temple. As she suggested that the Transcended work higher up, relief budded within the ivory dove. It would seem that Maren was no more eager than she to talk about her feelings, and for once, Sohalia preferred the silence that was to come. She could work herself into exhaustion in peace, without having to confront the guilt and pain that plagued her, helping build the temple at the same time. It was a winning situation for both she and the Diviner, and she followed to inspect an example of the work she would be expected to do in silence.

"It seems straightforward enough," she responded, her voice distant as she looked over the frame filled with rocks. She reached out with her magic, feeling for the metal where she couldn't see it behind rocks, allowing the shape of the existing piece to guide her understanding of what would be required higher up. She nodded. "I would be happy to do the ones up there." The mare paused, looking over the stained glass window. It was pretty, and she appreciated the colored light that it let in. Somehow, it reminded her of the Ancient Rotunda, and she found herself wondering if this structure, too, would be standing long after they were gone.

"Who crafted the glass?" she asked then, curiosity coloring her previously emotionless tones. Perhaps a mental distraction would be as helpful as the physical one she intended to create after they had finished speaking.

"talk talk talk"

Brighter than the northern lights
Want to live to feel the daylight