Our chief want is someone who will inspire us
to be what we know we could be
Every bit of fire she spits at him, he spits it right back.
And the entire situation merely escalates, as could easily have been predicted. Miykael didn't usually fight fire with fire. He isn't known for being anything other than caring and polite (except the wraith incident but that's another story). Neither of them had the capability to read minds (at least, he didn't believe she could) and yet they both made presumptions about the other. Maybe some were true, or at least partially true, but for the most part their presumptions were likely wrong. He'd met her once. She'd been resistant to accepting his and Alysanne's help but she did eventually cave; despite her wish for them to just leave her alone. What happened after that was rather foggy. He remembers trying to help her up to her feet to get her out of the mud and slush but after that the memory fades. What he cannot fathom, however, is how he somehow failed her back then. What is he at fault for? It's not as if he could reverse her aging and since she didn't seem any worse than his memory recalls - Miykael simply couldn't understand her anger.
But was it her anger and repulsive nature that irked him into behaving so differently or was it perhaps something else. Something completely out of the old mare's control. Someone maybe. It isn't farfetched to believe that Miykael is still grieving Merialeth's loss or that her loss has somehow worn down his tolerance for her attitude. Regardless of the cause, Miykael's anger cooled abruptly when the old mare recoiled from his question. He'd struck a nerve, that much was incessantly clear and were he a lesser man he would have internally rejoiced over it. Instead, he regrets his words, regrets how quickly he jumped to anger. He can't deny that she irks him, that her mere presence irritates the shit out of him but that isn't a valid excuse to treat her poorly.
Anger explodes from the old mare, the ticking time bomb erupting and spitting fire at him. She is adamant, hissing. But he can honestly say he doesn't believe her. 'I don't need anyone. And I am not weak.' she says and without missing a beat, he replies: "Whom are you trying to convince here? Me? Or... you?" But there is no heat behind his words; no anger, just compassion. There is a newfound softness to his face, a look that is far more commonplace. Needing others isn't a sign of weakness but he knew there was no point entering into that argument with her. Miykael now assumes, perhaps wrongly, that anything he says will be instantly disregarded as stupid bullshit mutterings from a 'bleeding heart', savior complex weakling. Because caring is somehow weak. Because wanting to help the wounded and sick somehow makes him less of a man.
Before he has the chance to look her over, she flinches away and bares her teeth to him. Miykael heeds the warning and stops cold in his tracks. Blue gaze watches her carefully as she begins to move away. Before he can make any move to stop the old mare from hobbling away, December is right there placing herself chest to chest with her. Exhaling softly, a sort of defeated whisper of breath, the stallion releases the tension that built up over their heated exchange. "I was unnecessarily rude and presumptuous and for that I apologize." he offers, his deep voice projecting across the empty space between them rather easily. He has little else to say so he simply falls silent. If she turns back now he'd be pleasantly surprised but he certainly wasn't about to hold his breath.
Miykael
the wandering healer |
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