Putting my care within Jackal's presence was a weakness I was used to showing. Being alone I was stronger and a better use to be a sturdy pole with the bare minimum of intimidation. It was only when others were around that I found myself sprawling out in a relaxation I should not know. My hope and remaining kindness just pouring from a waterfall through my chest and beating from my heart. If someone else was around, someone who seemed easily trust able, I would leave my care to them. Perhaps this is far from a correct act but it seemed so useful and calming to let my nerves uncoil, to release my laid back character and the happiness or boasting of life behind my eyes. Even with this living legend's presence as a very intimidating feature, I was not pressed into action to keep him with questions and concern. His eyes were a bloody crimson that could crawl behind your smile and wickedly turn it to a frown but behind those eyes I could feel something more from him.

I do not know of his past, or how he used to be but if I did, it would conclude the lust for knowledge about all his scars. Though I do find him a handsome being, his setbacks were that of a battled hide and terrible mane. Such made him seem rugged and edged with bitter disdain. Beneath his spiraled horn was a familiar stripe. The stripe of my father. I quiver with memories. He was never a man who felt pride in such a useless daughter, I've had days close to being beat to death. I remember the day I began to limp, my right cannon so sore with hate. I forgive to easily because to this day, I never remember such a fault in him I look beyond that fault and remember him as a disappointed father. Not someone who beat me because of his dislike.

Knowing he did not mean it was the easiest thing for me to believe, though I know he knew what he was doing, I don't believe he ever meant to harm me. His loves was apparent even behind the fuming gases. Like the fumes held beneath the surface of my kings dragon. That bronze a reminder of the beautiful nature. My mind is taken from this wandering as I place my facial features in a curling smile as the companions bonded winks to me. For a moment I felt warm inside, useful and worth any trouble. His playful moment hit a spot within my aging heart. It was such a wonderful feeling. As Paladin began to speak I moved my eyes from the kings silver to his own crimson. The Valiant's head bows respectfully and I cannot help but feel flattered. He is wonderfully mannered and I find him a rather kind being beyond what his outer shell says. "Thank you, Valiant."

Pretty much a simply return of words but I couldn't quite summon anything else. I was lost in the excitement of reality, not everyone who looks evil is such. Maybe his scars were well earned and wonderfully accepted. Or maybe they were an old reminder of why he should be who he is now, I can understand that mindset. I am who I am, a forgiver because I do not want to be like the rest. Like my father and his father before him. Or perhaps the rest of the kingdom and their chaotic lives of judging and being so wound up tight with hatred and unsure visions. One of the kings voices cuts the air as he turns to venture into the Foothills further. His gesture is followed by my own. I move my cranium to Paladin, in an inviting motion of sideways cocks to push his attention to follow. Placing each of my black hooves and that one creamy colored thing off after Jackal. Perhaps my white sock was my only fault in beauty. If it wasn't for that painting I would be a pure thing. My reflection would be wonderful.