It was the sight of violet in a field of otherwise brown and sparse greenery that caught his eye, causing him to stop in his tracks. Just a flash, nothing really out of the ordinary or something that should cause unwarranted attention, a vigil spotted from the corner of warm, honey-brown orbs... Except the very fact that it was violet. A familiar shade of violet. A... Poisonous kind of color. The color meant a lot, for how many times had he seen such a shade before?

Once. Only once... And in the eyes of someone who Apollo suddenly found himself thinking about as his legs took him towards the sight of the tiny, precious violet presence.

When was the first time he had seen such a vibrant shade of eye color? It had been at the beginning of his life here in Helovia, when the Grey thrived, and before it's inevitable downfall... And oh, how those eyes held such emotion. Anger, sadness, mostly indifference... But the Merciful had been on the receiving end of kind glances and soft smiles, but not very often. Not before their home had been stolen from beneath their unsuspecting hooves.

A tired, haggard sigh escaped Apollo's lips, his eyes drooping downwards and to the tiny, violet flower that poised innocently at his feet. It wasn't very often that he found himself thinking of Lakota. Anymore his thoughts were turned more inward, chastising himself for his failures and past transgressions, his inability to lead a herd, to keep a family safe... But for now, right now, on the dawn of a new day, Apollo stood in the Thistle Meadow and allowed himself to think of those that he loved, and ultimately had let down.

His heart ached, his breath heaved, and the stallion's eyes remained locked on the violet flower. Tears brimmed at his eyes as such a terrible, profound sadness swept over him that it stole his breath from his very lungs.

"I'm sorry..." His whisper was choked, blurred around the edges and stuffed so full of terrible emotions. "I'm so sorry..." Oh, what one might think should they walk upon him now, talking to flowers with tears in his eyes? But that wouldn't be different from the norm, would it? For Apollo had always talked to plants... After all, they had never judged him.

So, unable to quell his emotions, Apollo stood over that tiny, violet flower with honey eyes full of unshed tears, as the world birthed a new day.

@[Lakota]

Ooc: Burt! I hope it's okay that I made you a surprise thread? :DD

Sometimes Apollo wondered if there was some higher force, some kind of higher power looking over him and watching out for him, and that whenever he got into these little emotional funks, that said higher power would throw something in his way that would irrevocably help the situation.

Like now, for example... One minute the stallion stood over that pretty little violet flower, tears staining the fur on his cheekbones, his tortured mind wondering the mysteries of life and love and how he had let everyone down... And the next, a body was moving towards him, thundering through the morning light, violet irises focusing on him and hesitantly whispering 'Polly?', and it's absolutely beautiful, because her voice is music to his ears and he was no longer alone.

"... Kota?" Her tenderness far outweighed any bitterness that the Poisoner might believer herself to have, but Apollo had no strength to tell her that. Not when she was approaching cautiously and touching him as though he may break. Which, perhaps, it wasn't too far from the truth. Once, Lakota held the title of Earth Medic and had mended those who needed aid... And even though the Foothills had been stripped from them, she was here, healing his damaged, forlorn heart.

"Lakota..." Even as she stepped away to put more distance between them, Apollo's tearstained brown eyes continued to watch her, a window to his suffering, to his fear, to his guilt-ridden soul... "I..." What was wrong? That was the true question, wasn't it? What was wrong?

He had been okay. Apollo had been holding himself together pretty well until his gaze had wandered upon the innocent violet flower that still lay at his hooves, but instead of that pretty little flower... His eyes focused on the violet eyes of the mare before him. Always loyal, always steadfast and determined and so damn good... Apollo didn't deserve her kindness.

"... I'm sorry," the words came then, a flood of emotional word-vomit that the black and white overo couldn't hope to contain, rising like bile in his throat and demanding to be spout out, "I failed everyone. I tried to keep everyone safe, and I just... I couldn't, Kota, I couldn't help them. I couldn't save anyone, and now I'm..." Alone. So alone.

Without thinking, without caring of preamble or personal space, Apollo turned his head towards Lakota and pressed his damp cheek to the side of her neck, always mindful of where his horn lay, and let the tears continue to fall anew. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

@[Lakota]

Lakota's sweet vocals reach his ears, soothing and warm and endearing, but Apollo's heart felt numb to it all. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel so heartbroken, so... Torn apart by this? Why was he so troubled by something that had been out of his control? Lakota was right; it wasn't his fault. He had done everything in his power to help the members of the Windtossed Foothills, taking them from danger and urging them to safety when Helovia had gone fucking crazy... But had it been enough?

Had it even mattered?

The stallion remembered a crisp, cold night, covered in blood, shit-brown mud and drenched in rain water as he battled against Confutatis, not only for his right as Chief, but for his very life. Not only had his herd stood behind him as a beacon of support and pride, but those that he had met at one point in his life had arrived to watch. They had come to lend their silent aid, believing in him when Apollo himself hadn't...

And it had led to his victory.

Was it true, then, that he had let them down? Or was it just the fear of letting down others that made him believe that he had let them down? Was he doing any better by hiding his face with shame? The answer came with startling, heart-numbing clarity. No.

"Oh, Kota," he breathed out upon that revelation, tear-stained cheeks still pressed close to the Poisoner's neck, relishing in her closeness, her scent, her love and adoration. The sobs that shook his girth and shoulders began to cease, but he did not move to lessen the distance between them. "I... I'm no longer a Chief of yours to swear fealty to. I'm just... Apollo." Perhaps a part of him would always be 'the Merciful', for it was a part of him that would never go away, but now... Now, was it time? To start anew? "But I appreciate your devotion, and your... Your presence. I... I've missed you more than I realized."

Which was true. Lakota could be many things; friend, enemy, caretaker, warrior, medic, protector... But Apollo felt the stirrings of something in his breast that he just couldn't explain. The blue roan was a friend, a beloved friend, and someone who he held dear. She had always been there for him, even back when they had barely known one another and the Grey was their lives.

Sucking in a large lungful of air, his breath shuddering and quivering with emotion, Apollo blinked large, honey-brown eyes slowly as he finally shook off the last of his emotional sobs. Standing here, wrapped in Lakota's loving and protective embrace... It was easier to see that this wasn't his fault. That none of this was his fault.

"I'm glad that you're alright, Kota... Have you been well? And okay? Since... Since the caves?" Since she was injured and covered in blood, he meant, but Apollo was too much a coward to ask the question so bluntly. It had never been in his character to ask something like that, anyway. "Do you call anywhere home now?" Only when the question left dark lips did Apollo shift in his stance, regretfully pulling himself out of the Poisoner's comforting embrace. His ears swiveled forward, and although soggy tracts of tears still stained his cheeks, it was clear to see that the stallion had gotten a hold of himself once again.

His mind felt clearer, like he could finally breathe, like he had been drowning in deep, dark cold waters and the one to bring him to safety and breathe life into his battered lungs had been this beautiful she-warrior in front of him. Beautiful... And why had Apollo just now realized that?

@[Lakota]