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With infinite sadness, Tor watched her daughter's tears fall.
What dejection she felt; despondent, mournful, tragic, regrettable, disgraceful, wretched, despairing of herself and her habits. For had it not become a habit, an awful, horrible, cruel habit of dropping whoever was with her and setting out on irremediable missions to save this or that and try to fix obsolete problems caused from her irresponsible self. Tor felt her own self heating, burning up from the inside out, impossibly hot rage at the fact she left Laila, the daughter she cared for so much, with every inch of her heart, was flooded with tears because of Tor. How could she have done this? Yet the tears fell so silently, without a trembling heave of the ebony chest, a filly turned to stone by Tor's stupidity, not sheltering the dear child so loved.
It was strange how under other circumstances, she may have found Thor likeable, but at this moment every word he said seemed to worsen the situation. Tor was being stubborn, maybe, or overly-sensitive, but was it necessary for him to pour salt in open wounds? "Thor." Tor said softly, abruptly, voice hovering somewhere in a no-man's-land zone between furious and wounded. "I have been selfish. I will not lie. You do not, however, need to open wounds further when I am trying to heal them." The white lady sighs, a heavy thing in her chest that grates on the air.
Perhaps she could have well gotten over the dark stallion if he had not insulted her again. Did he think she would not want to heal the break in her family? Did he think that she would finish the bonds off entirely? If he did... the dark-eyed mare stared at him in full and furious anger and shock, and hurt as well. Yet Tor did not comment on the fact the stallion had just ripped another gash in her fragile body. Nothing could be gained from hurting the WeyrLeader back... and it was selfish to bring others down around her to drive herself upwards. No, she could not be so mean as to sink to that. Hastily the gypsy dropped her eyes, not wanting to show the torrent of emotions that plagued her with a monstrous hunger. For one thing, she found it difficult to want the bay's friendship when he placed her approval in the hooves of a child. Tor was willing to accept whatever Laila decided to make of her, she truly was. But he was not judging her, but letting those... again her thoughts fell apart in a whirlwind, and she stopped.
The white mare, so appropriately titled gypsy by Thor, stared out over the ocean, not wishing to confuse the child. No, not the child, her daughter. So she listened. It was not relief that come with the first words, but heartbreak. I don't hate you. How could the words not get any worse? Hate. The deepest of pitiless dislike, no matter how petty or misplaced it may be. In this case, Tor would not call it misplaced if her family decided to take that route.
And then, she was crying.
She stepped forward, the other words of a yearling lost, and rested her muzzle upon the black filly's forehead, tears lost in the snarling wind, her chest trembling slightly, both broken and healed at the same time. For a long minute Tor stood like this, wracked by emotion, shutting her eyes with lashes full of tears, and she could not hide the small sob that came from her. "I will tell you. Always. But I will not leave again, little warrior. I will always be here. Never again will I be so stupid... so foolish as to..." Then the words were lost and she simply stepped back, eyes full of too much emotion that the world seemed to blurred.
[M.E. if you consider this too much powerplay I will remove!]
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