It had thrown her so off guard. That question of his, the one that Cheveyo dreaded hearing every single day that passed. It wasn't that she was ashamed of her past at all, no, that wasn't the case...the painted warrior was proud of come from such a long line of skilled fighters. Some of them had lost riders, many of them had lost their lives long before their riders ever died. Most days, Cheveyo wished she had shared their fates and been the one felled rather than Kwahu.
But surprisingly, she didn't hesitate to tell Note and Sabel all of her story. Of course, the details weren't gone into. She wasn't going to share the gory details of how when she turned around to go collect Kwahu his soul was already gone. All that was left was a shell of the man she had loved, an arrow protruding from his chest...if it had been an inch more to either side she would likely be still with him and not wandering around in these rabbit holes. But then she wouldn't have met the stallion who stood before her, she wouldn't have done any of the amazing and different things that she had done since her arrival to Helovia. The death of her rider had been such a bittersweet thing, sometimes it was more bitter than sweet. But then there were moments, like the one when her and Note had been cheek to cheek that were much more sweet than they were bitter.
In the midst of her thoughts the painted mare hadn't seen the stallion turn away from her for a moment to look at the scar that ran beneath his flaming wings. She didn't see the moment of sadness that flashed through his own features, nor did she notice the odd way the feline was shifting about as if something was making her uncomfortable. Cheveyo was deaf and blind to the world around her as the tears continued to bubble up on her lower lids, nearly touching the long lashes that grew from her upper lid before cascading down to the trail they followed down her ivory facade. As much as the mare dispised crying and showing any form of emotional weakness it felt almost good to tell the stallion the meanings around her markings. Almost as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders that she didn't know she had been carrying for so long.
It wasn't until he moved towards her that her mind drifted away from the feathers that topped the arrow sticking from the man's well muscled chest. The feeling of Note's lips moving gently across her shoulder caused an involuntary gasp and her pelt to shiver as if the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees in a few seconds. Which was odd considering the mare felt as if she was standing in the middle of a sauna from the touch of the stallion, who didn't linger very long on her shoulder. Cheveyo didn't think anyone had ever thought to touch her markings before, it was almost as if they thought they would smudge the paint that after years had permanently dyed her pelt. Nothing they or the weather would do could get rid of the marks from her past, and Cheveyo couldn't be happier.
Sighing softly the mare sniffed a couple times, getting her emotions back under check and drying her eyes as the stallion moved ever so slightly so he had his maw buried in her messy flaxen tresses. So there they stood, eye to eye, his maw causing an odd tingling sensation to pass across her entire body as she shifted just enough to brush her own kissers against the gentle curve of his neck. She would have been content staying here talking with each other and sharing their secrets like lovers do. That "l" word concerned her a little, they weren't lovers. As he had said, they were just becoming friends, something seemed a little off with the word friends as well but for now she would be perfectly content with the label. At least it meant she could be close to him from time to time.
"I'm so sorry..." If she had been any further into her thoughts Cheveyo likely wouldn't have heard the stallion's whispered apology. But she heard it loud and clear, almost as if he was speaking right into her ear rather than into her nape. She wanted so badly to tell him that everything was alright, that she had survived this long and she would keep on surviving. But opening her mouth would just lead to a garbbled sound of the grieving, so instead she just took a step closer to the bay stallion so close in fact that their chests were touching and she could drape her muzzle across his withers where she stood. Soaking up the feeling of being so close to someone who caused her feelings to stir. Someone she could trust enough to tell of a horrid thing that happened to her.


"Speech"
Tag;; @[Note]
Words;; Eight Hundred and Forty
OOC;; They make me all emotional and stuffs. Gah.