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02-03-2013, 06:31 PM
 Finally, he released himself from this nervous silence and spouted the words Mirage dreaded to hear. I wish to return to the Foothills. The mare remained still, statuesque, absorbing the words like a stony cliff face absorbing the blows of the ocean. She had suffered similar when Daenerys had approached her, had spoken about her ill feelings towards the method by which Mirage was forced to take to secure a home for them. Had she truly failed all those who followed her? Had she failed to secure her promise made to them, to give them a home, a sanctuary where they would receive protection against all that would otherwise destroy them? Akaith brushed her mind gently, pulling Mirage away from her own thoughts of devastation, of betrayal, of the kind of darkness that would lead to things no-one ever wanted to see. It was by the graces of the golden queen that the little shadow mare did not succumb to the powerful emotions tumbling about within her, by the powers of Akaith's soul that Mirage's svelte ears and golden eyes were able to capture the woes of Aaron, as he claimed a need to grow, to develop, to better serve her mission in this world. After what felt like a lifetime, the mare allowed a breath to pass through her nostrils. Her physique revealed nothing of the internal war she was fighting, the struggle to maintain her cool demeanour, her open and accepting gaze masked the anger she felt - anger at herself, for not seeing this need in Aaron, for not addressing it sooner, herself. For allowing his family to be plucked from the home she had promised would be a safe haven, for being blind to the needs of one of her most loyal protectors. With a nod, the mare accepted his words, her lips curving into a small, sad smile. "Thank you for telling me." Her voice was quiet, hushed as it travelled upon the salty breeze to his ears. "I hope you find what you need on your journey. The Qian supports you." With a smooth step, the mare closed the gap that remained between them, extending her muzzle to brush his forehead, blowing a small breath upon his brow; a blessing, even if it tormented her to do so. Still maintaining contact, the mare then cloaked herself, and with nothing more than a breeze and flash of golden left in her wake; she departed. larfsalot.deviantart.com |
