Kahlua found his stumbling endearing rather than concerning and the smile that followed did warm her heart, even as she was still thinking of how much he sounded like him. She would have to get over the fact soon enough but part of her didn't want to. Perhaps it was the exhaustion, but there was a part of her that was beginning to believe that she deserved all the unhappiness that seemed to plague her at every turn. After all, could she think of any period since she had arrived here where she had been content for more than two weeks at a time? If it was hard for her to think, it was even harder for her to remember a period that fit the description she was asking for. The gold dipped mare, the burned stallion, the unicorn from the north, the never-ending darkness that had plagued the land, the pinto pegasus, the hell-fire monster from the heart... the list went on and on, all things spaced out so that she might be reminded of the evil in the land every time she began to forget it. If she was a scholar, she would certainly fall to depression thinking that her purpose in life must be to draw evil out from hiding without trying.

If Kahlua only knew what the stallion was thinking, perhaps her thoughts would have been somewhat different. In her younger days the girl might have flirted with any stallion that came her way. She might have thrown her tail up and arched her neck and batted her eyes. And for what? To gain the power and recognition she desired. But she had what she wanted now. She was in charge. She could create and others watched what she made and awed at it. So why did she need to flirt and flat? No, if she knew that the stallion was flustered by her, was sent into tachycardia because of her presence, she might have turned tail and run. She had no desire for children, no lust for foals. Foals required work and attention, they were needy and useless. She had been useless once, after all. No. Now the idea of stallions coming upon her would confuse or frustrate her. If she happened to think about it. Of course, being Kahlua, she did not.

It was my honor. His voice cut daggers into her even when she was prepared for it. Worse yet, was that she hardly understood what she was feeling. She knew she was upset, she knew she was mourning her brother, but why? She loved him, of course, but what had he done for her? She shook her head. It was no use to try and think of it. If she could remember something he had done to prove his love for her she would only spiral into deeper sorrow. And if she could not think of something... well, wasn't that worse? Instead, she tried to force her brain into remembering this was Dragomir and not Fuhrer.

Above her, the sun seemed to boil down upon them even as the morning was still young. As if punishing her for her accomplishments, Father Sun began sucking what little energy remained out of her and taking it... where? She did not know, but she knew that her body ached for reprieve. Shifting herself and taking a few steps out of the wide path the DragonHeart and others had made, Kahlua slipped under the shadow of a large evergreen. If the temperature changed, it was slight, but just being in the shade made her feel more comfortable. A placebo.

Was he a good man, your brother? The stallion's voice called her back to reality. She had been slipping into a mindless stare, having but little strength to do anything else. The question troubled her. Not because of the answer, but rather because she found it difficult to find an answer. Was he? And yet, even as she asked herself, she knew the answer. “No,” she said, looking to him with eyes that were curious for his response. It was the truth. Or at least, it was her truth. The idea of good was very subjective. “But it seems like nobody wants to be good,” she said then, oddly philosophical of her. She meant nothing deep by it, other than that she had met far more that were interested in making war that peace since her arrival here.

In her head, the words of a mare she had met in the not so distant past poked at her brain. How can you achieve peace without war? Would you condone killing in the name of peace? They both had been, and still were, questions she could not answer. So, instead of trying to think too hard about them, she looked again to the stallion. He was her herd mate, after all... would he help her find the answers to her soul? “I was told there can't be peace without war, because you have to kill everyone who doesn't aim for your goal.” She opened the subject awkwardly, because she did not know how to think deeply about the subject. She did not want to think deeply about the subject. But something compelled her to find an answer. She would not find one without counsel from another. “Do you think our goal is silly?” Her brain was troubled but she wanted to smile, so she looked at the wall to find the encouragement she needed. It came, and so then she returned her happy face to Dragomir's. She was not eager to talk philosophy, but she had asked the question. Now she must listen to the answer.

Thankfully for Kahlua, the so smitten young man was far too self conscious to press his desires upon her, even if he had a name to call the emotions that waved through him when her eyes met his or when she smiled. Having been raised far from the usual herd-life that children were born into, Dragomir's social skills were as deeply lacking as his brain was adept at observation, and while his parents had tried to teach him all he needed to survive in the world outside of their influence, they hadn't been able to teach him everything. If he were to think about it very long, he could indeed pinpoint what this weak kneed sensation was, having heard his mother's tales of falling love with his father, forsaking the land in which she had met the gray king to follow him out into the unknown when he had fled the land of Isilme to save the life of Niddhoggr, his green bonded. Even their dragons had shared in their bond of affection towards another, the bronze Israfel never far from his beloved emerald queen; so many lessons in butterfly infested bellies, and Dragomir had missed them all.

It also meant that his courting techniques were distinctly lacking.

A grown man who understood his heart might pose their bodies to exemplify their muscles and strength, bragging about whatever they had achieved in their lives. He had little to flaunt other than being the son of two former rulers and a follower of the horse god, Nieque; perhaps his travelling the large distance between the Isle and Helovia could be considered a venture worth mention, but as he had met no ill will in his journeys, the story would be droll and simple, a long list of fields and forests, birds and beasts. And so he simply hung onto her every word and movement grinning like a fool, unsure why he felt so compelled but allowing his more carnal mind to overpower the logical one in this instance; there was nothing wrong with paying attention, as far as he could be concerned, and the disruption in his heart wasn't entirely unpleasant.

He watched her transition to the shade of the treeline before following, the lack of sleep leaving him staring blankly at her first few steps, unsure if she was simply going to walk away from him and never re-enter his life. Her movements revealed her exhaustion, calming the bleating voice in his head that, as usual, was worried he had done something wrong. Stepping closer to the trees himself, he hadn't realized how hot the sun was on his back, and the shade was a delightful reprieve; her words met his ears as he moved to follow her, the painted man worried as to her health and whether or not he should walk her to a more secluded and comfortable location.

His question seemed to concern her in a way that he couldn't read or understand until she answered it, and even after she had, the flicker of concern that had alighted within him didn't cease to burn. It seemed she accepted the fact of the matter, as resolutely as she stated the firm no, and Dragomir could not entirely understand how one could mourn a man who had been wicked. Would he still love his family if he knew that they were of evil will? The thought pressed his weary brain to its extends, a moaning complaint rising in his temples that made him quickly set aside the complex idea. "Perhaps none of us can be," he mused aloud in response to her observation that he found strikingly true. It drew a smile to his lips, the youth wrongly thinking that the girl was a brilliant philosopher, in a way a kindred spirit to himself; he drew great pleasure from gathering knowledge and that this beautiful and talented woman had made such an adept insight into the hearts of mortals aroused his curiosities and the fluttering of wings in his belly simultaneously.

The silence seeped in, Dragomir's eyes slipping into the distance as he pondered the notion of wickedness residing in each of them. But none he had met had seemed evil, even those who he had been raised to distrust and stand above, the winged and horned; having met Semira, and finding no evil in the most devious natural design he had ever seen, he was unsure if his previous words were even logical at all. The frown that filled in his blank expression was a mirror to his own doubts, and even as the girl's eyes slid back towards him to speak again, he was lost and wandering down the corridors of his mind. Her words pushed him out the exit door, his pale gaze meeting hers with an exuberance as he realized that the conversation was to remain one of learning - and not an easy lesson, either. He listened intently to her as she presented him with the problem, her soft smile all the encouragement he needed to dig deep into his sleepy mind for a suitable answer.

"Silly? No," he said resolutely, remembering Mirage's words in the Threshold several seasons prior when she had introduced him to the notion of three-breed Gods who despised separatism and wanted only a unity among their disciples; an image that his beliefs did not fit into. But he had already seen the ways in which the Edge had suffered for it's beliefs, having brought a war party down on their heads by attempting to peaceably solve a problem that had been born of violence. He hadn't agreed with the tactics that Mirage had used, but he could find no other solution to the problem than to kill the unicorns who had killed her friends - and it simply didn't jive with the way the Edge functioned. "Improbable perhaps. Where the light shines, shadows will stretch," his mind slipped back to his own raising, the hatred explained away quite simply with the words, we're better than they are, and how easily he had accepted and still held these ideals. The irony that he was having this discussion with the gentle and open hearted mare before him didn't strike him in his current state, the man finding his muscles growing more and more sore with each passing moment of conversation - but he wouldn't give in to his physical needs at the cost of losing this wonderful sensation that rippled through him whenever she spoke towards him. "It could be said that without the darkness, none could truly appreciate the sun."

Had she known her companion's thoughts there certainly would have been more stress invading the girl's mind. More musing, more delving into pasts she didn't want and didn't want to remember. Why did the girl mourn the stallion she had loved, but did not like? For that matter, why did she love him at all? How long had it been now, since the fire? Almost two years? But perhaps her sorrow was just because Dragomir's voice was the key to open the lock-box on that part of her past and heart. Had she ever really mourned for her brother? In small moments, yes, but had she ever really stood and thought about what she had lost? After the fire, she had just run, trying to save herself like the coward she was. And after that? Months of wandering, of lost days and long nights. She had never really been scared on her own (her travels having generally been mild and without incident) but she rarely had time to remember the death that had ravaged Avalon while she was worried about trying to find a home of her own. So she had locked it away, if only out of thoughtlessness. But strong boxes only hold so long- even the best vault is not impermeable.

Perhaps none of us can be. She looked at him, her smile turning to a frown for a moment. The idea hurt her feelings, if only because she tried her very best to be good. But if the girl had stopped to look at her own past, she would know that she would never fit the bill either. Kindness now, angelic actions in the present, do not erase the wrong-doings of the past. Others may forgive, may let your actions go, but even forgiveness will not remove the Gods' knowledge of your actions. Does that mean if you are bad once, you are bad forever? The girl would have argued to the contrary, if she could, but it would be for selfish reasons. She did not want to be thought of as bad, did not want to think of herself as bad. She had been enveloped by Mirage's womb that bred peaceful beings, birthed into the land anew, an advocate for harmony amongst the denizens of Helovia.

Silly? No. His resolute answer gave the girl hope that her path in life was not futile. She blindly followed Mirage, trusting that the mysterious woman was walking down a path of salvation and glory. When her world had been shaken by Skywalker then Ktulu, she didn't know what to do and had been troubled henceforth. At least the wall had given her reprieve. But now, upon its completion, she would have to return to remembering that not everyone believed she was doing the right thing. Return to feeling the pull of these other ideals upon her own, dragging her away from the path that she walked. Dragomir's encouragement gave her some peace from the tug of evil, until he spoke again.

His metaphors, at first, left the girl racking her brain, slowly unraveling their meaning. Simple though they might seem, to most, the girl's mind was lost in their mystery for a few moments. Perhaps it was better that Kahlua was simple, though. When she finally found what she thought the words meant, it was like a new wonder of the world had appeared. And maybe he was right. Didn't she dance more gayly each day, now that the endless night had left? Didn't she revel each morning as the sun rose? And didn't she grow more complacent with each passing hour that the sun continued its trek across the sky? Would peace be such an honorable goal if there was no darkness to strive against? “I wonder what makes someone strive for evil,” she offered then, looking to him but not really expecting an answer. “Did you sleep at all? Shouldn't you rest?” The girl's questions were innocent, no hint of annoyance at his presence or sign that she wanted him to go away. She was actually enjoying his, somewhat brain-taxing, company.

OOC| So sorry for the wait! I haven't really had time to do justice to mopey, philosopher Kahlua!

He sleepily watches her expression change as he speaks, admiring in his own subtle ways how she listens and lets the words sink in; to the naïve boy, this is a true sign that this woman has a good head on her shoulders, and so his smile becomes all the more dreamy the longer she swallows his logical rebuttals. If he could only know how dark and dismal the thoughts he was filling her head with were, he would surely stop – but to the pessimistic and doubtful child of two former leaders, it was not unusual to frown so often while pondering the mysticisms of the universe. His life, after all, hung on the precipice of two very different ideals. He worried some days that his face would become stuck in the droll and mildly pained mask of thought that he seemed trapped within since arriving to Helovia.

If you asked the boy, who would honestly answer that yes, he was to be wicked for all his days, if only for having some of the thoughts he’d had in his short life.

Except for this moment, this one where he was smiling and a pretty girl was listening to him and accepting his company. It was not that Semira and Mirage had not been pretty – but one was a forbidden fruit, an object to be observed from afar (how would Adalwulf react to that one, anyway? He bites back a chuckle at the thought), and the other, to be perfectly humble and honest, scared the daylights out of him. He didn’t expect the black queen to fall out of the sky and murder him, of course, but that only added to her aura of power – she would pull him out before all the eyes she could gather, and there pin him with the red beads of his sin for all the gathered faces to witnesses.

Did Mirage eat people while in that golden body? He suppresses a shudder that threatens to take his lethargic muscles. Perhaps not eat, but surely burn them alive – as if that is anymore pleasant of a thought.

”I wonder what makes one strive for evil,” she says, and he takes a moment to think about the inquiry, ears splayed in thought and mouth once again bent into a ponderous line. He is pulled back out of his wondering as her second question meets him, however, his grin sloppy and almost misplaced on his face as he shakes his head in rebuttal. "Yes I sle…" he begins, but hesitates as he finds her eyes and instantly feels his knees groan (perhaps audibly); unbidden, a sigh escapes his lips, "no. I didn’t sleep. I was quite worried that you…"

He glances upwards at the boughs of the branches nervously, blue eyes looking across the canopy in utter self annoyance that he cannot understand what in hell is going on with his insides at this moment. "…that you had hurt yourself." Clearing his throat nervously and taking a pace backward to align himself with the path that would lead them to the nearest campfire, he offers Kahlua his shoulder to lean upon as they make the walk, should she want it. "I need lessons you know," he has logically decided, though realizes that it sounds rather cold now that it is out on the open air, and he quickly modifies his words with a hasty compliment, "and you are by far the finest craftswoman in World’s Edge."

If anything, the girl needed a mentor. She needed somebody to walk her through the confusing parts of life, to teach her how to think about things, how to know when there was danger, how to be aware of your surroundings, how to figure out who to trust and who to watch with wary eyes. She needed a teacher for a lot of things. Unfortunately, finding a teacher with the patience of a saint might prove a task for the girl. And besides, Kahlua wasn't exactly looking for a mentor. Useless as she was, she was quite pleased with herself for all she had accomplished. And maybe one day they would discover her ruse and banish her from the work that she had completed, but until that time she would live her life like the happy soul she was, content to be foolish and young at heart, but happy each morning when she woke anew.

As he began to answer her question, she watched him, a strange rush of feelings filling her heart that she should have been watched over so carefully by the painted stallion. If he sounded like her brother, then certainly he was acting like the good brother she had never had. Though to think of the stallion's feelings as brotherly would be strange at best. I was quite worried that you... that you had hurt yourself. She hummed contentedly for a short moment, stepping forward as he stepped back, reaching her nose out, trying to touch him once more, a friendly motion, thanks for a job well done. Thanks for a job he had not needed to do, but had done anyways. “Thank you,” her voice more at ease than it had been in the past few moments.

As he offered his shoulder, she make to step alongside of him, touching him but not leaning against him. It would be rude to place her weight on the stallion in all his weariness, tired though she still was, for he had suffered too, working with her all the month and then not even sleeping when he should have been exhausted. Her heart went out to him and she opened her mouth to speak, though he managed first. I need lessons you know, and she bobbed her head as he finished, a self-important smile brightening her face at his compliment. A more humble soul would have told him that she was the only craftswoman, the only Glazier even, but she did not. She only chuckled her soft agreement, contented to know that he thought so highly of her. “I will find you the next time I have an order to fill,” she offered gently. “Lace taught me, I'll share what I know then.”

As they neared the fire that he was leading them to, she couldn't manage to suppress the yawn that spilled up from her diaphragm. The warm heat played against her hooves, her skin protesting the heat but her eyelids beginning to fall nevertheless. Heat and gravity weight them down, making them heavy. “You... We should rest,” she said looking to him, hoping he would take the offer to restore his wearied frame but not denying that she could use the rest as well. “With both of us here, and the wall in place, we should be safe.”

OOC| Kah has a commission from Shadow, so as soon as the Herd Meeting thread is completed (or at least once it is confirmed that Aaron will continue to be Glazier) we will be holding a 'crafters' thread, so keep your eyes out for it ^.^

Dragomir and Kahlua could be of much use to one another – he could teach her how to pause and think about things (sometimes too long) before committing to them; surely he couldn’t replace the training of one’s parents, and that he was not always good or right, but thinking was one thing that the young man liked to think set him above some of the others. And if his thoughtful existence could better the girl’s life, than she herself could teach the boy how to simply smile and be free; for all his aching thoughts on life, he could spare no time to smell the roses, only categorize them by shape and color, the fullness of the petals.

The touch of her soft muzzle upon his flesh sent his head reeling again, the sparkly, dizzy sensation heating the base of his skull and working its way to and from his brow. In combination with the sincere gratitude, the painted stag found himself quite heavily immersed in a floating cloud of hazy and foreign emotions – and they were actually quite pleasant, for once.

When the time came for them to move forward, the slight pressure of her shoulder against his own kept the bemused and simple smile glowing on the fringes of his expression, and tired as he was, kept his pace bright and flowing despite the way his muscles should have been protesting. At odd intervals, his joints would clack and pop as he moved along, releasing the tension from standing in one location for so long; sure, he had paused to stretch a bit, but he could only go so far without leaving the mare’s side (as far as he had drawn his boundaries to be).

Her soft laughter is only cheerful to the boy, who in other instances might find her constant mirth to be a sign of mockery or disdain; but he watched her while she built, and had seen her many times in the forest, and always she had been smiling or carrying on some conversation or another. If Dragomir had such room in his heart, he might be jealous of her for being so fearless in a crowd; he himself could barely manage to converse with those he called his herd mates, much less any random ear as miss Kahlua seemed to be able to do.

"I would be grateful," he says, lips pulled upwards in a broad smile that mirror the dance of his heart along his ribcage, like a scene from a 1950’s movie in which the lead actor has just discovered he’ll be partners with the lovely miss Peggy Sue (que random dance scene). He still has no worldly idea what is wrong with him – but rather than rebuke the emotion for the lack of understanding he felt as he had prior, he was beginning to settle into it quite nicely.

He felt like it gave him an edge. What sort of edge that was… he didn’t know.

The heat drew a heavy sigh and deep yawn from the adolescent as they arrived to the fireside, despite the jittery state of his being. He was beginning to place the blame for the feeling on his lack of sleep and first true act worthy of honorable mention, though would later come to understand the sensation much better, he was sure. Life never stopped giving him answers, whether he wanted them or not, and he looked forward to thinking over the hours which had transpired in the company of the wall builders, most specifically, Kahlua.

He nods in agreement of her words on rest, though is saddened by the thought of their conversation ending. He learned so much of her, and wonders if she knows anything more of him at all by this point – or if she even cares. Not that it would matter. He was unlikely to be around the Edge much after this point, though he would look for her everywhere he went; somehow he knew this without any magical assistance. With the wall securely in place, he felt the need to venture out and see the land to which he had journeyed, to see more of what her wilderness had to offer. "It seems good to me," he says with a carefree air, hiding his wants to continue speaking with her under a male guise.

Stepping away from her, blushing if such a thing was possible (for he has realized they've been standing here touching for far too long to be chivalrous), he tucks his head downwards and angles himself between a nearby tree and the flames, glancing back to her once he is sure his embarrassment is hidden from his features. "Rest well," he calls to her softly, before closing his eyes and returning his neck and head into a posture of rest.

Even with his eyes pressed shut, he can still see her.

He does not know how easily sleep will be coming, even as exhausted as he is.