Lowered together on the ground, the two were a lovely pair, and for comfort Kahlua cuddled closer to him, trying to rest her side against his own as he spoke, happiest when she could be close to those she called friend. And happy she was here, laying with Apodis in the dark, behind a rock, as close to the heavens as they two could be without having passed to the other side. And he began to speak, so for a moment she hummed along with his story, a soft tune, barely a whisper, but her voice combined with his in a lovely duet. My journey before Helovia. She quieted her song to listen.

The name Rasta was unknown to her, but she did not say so, afraid to stop his story, afraid to cut his words off, should he stop speaking. This story for her ears alone. She would take it all in. And take it in she did, her heart swelling with his voice as he called on. I ran. The painted girl did not fault him, did not wrong him, did not even think anything bad of him. She would run too, she had run from Illynx in the end, a coward saved only by this golden warrior's valiant heart. And she had screamed before the monster that had risen from the Heart, a pusillanimous child. Even in defending the Edge, she had ran. So as he looked away she extended her neck, touching nose to neck if he would let her.

I'm not much of the warrior you think of me, Kahlua. But she could not disagree more. If anything, his story rose him higher in her eyes. To pledge your life to a mare.... even the idea was a valiant one, one the painted girl would be brave enough to take upon her shoulders. Simply taking the mission of the Qian upon herself was more of a personal mission than a mission for the group. Peace on the land? Imagine all the friends.

But the warrior did not seem pleased with his performance and Kahlua rose with him, shivering in the cold and as he lamented himself a failure, a bad luck charm. Be he was a light in the dark to the childish woman, if only he could know. And as his finished, his words a dagger to her heart, she threw her neck around him once more, tried, tried to hug him close, to pull his body against hers, to feel his warmth against her. “I would be dead without you. You didn't endanger me, you saved me.” Untangling her neck from his, she stepped back, baby blues looking to him with earnest. She was determined. She had to make him know. To make him understand. “Rasta is safe, yes? Would I be safe if you hadn't run?” And though she was no philosopher, no scholar, there was a hint of knowing behind her words. “Apodis,” she murmured, gentler now, a smile caressing her face. “You will always be my friend. You can't leave that.”