The choking, dying breaths of the lion fell upon unforgiving ears. Mirage’s opinion of the creature would not change; he was a fool, now a dead fool. He was misguided, and though the mare wondered for what love this sun streaked beast died for, she did not truly care enough to demand further explanation. If his words were given in attempt to comfort the unicorn, they had nearly the polar opposite effect. The obsidian one watched as the emotions roamed all over the young one, and she stood, a stony statue, holding anything she might be feeling inside. The rage that Flicker threw at the lion’s body revealed the very depths of her torments, her combined love and hatred for the lion. Mirage understood, she had spent a lifetime observing the emotional outbreaks of others, and rarely allowing her own self to show them. The emotions were there, within her, she simply had a firm grip upon which ones she showed when. The feelings of abandonment, devotion, love and loathing were a harsh mixture to be dealing with; each one piled on top of the other would cause the symptoms of a grieving follower Flicker was displaying.

Mirage watched as the young belle fell to the ground, and at last she seemed to be aware of her own presence. Eyes sought each other out, and Mirage complied to the silent beckoning, folding her own limbs beneath her, lending her dark build to the femme to treat as a comforting rock to steady herself against. Tiara leaned over the other’s nape, and she held the youth, svelte ears easily capturing the whispered words. “Hush now, dear little Flicker.” Soothing melodies hummed from the charred one’s maw. “He could have been saved, had he wanted to be.” The stallion’s madness was a sickness of the mind, it was the only explanation, the charred femme was sure. He got in his own way, he couldn’t see anything wrong with his actions, no matter the objections others might pose to him – you can only help those who will accept the help. “You are free, Flicker, free to live life the way you want.” Quietly the mare murmured, not wanting to overload the already shaken filly with ideals she perhaps hadn’t considered. Mirage longed to welcome the filly into the Qian’s safe and secure hold, but she would not, could not, force it upon the belle. Silence ensued, and the mare simply awaited the response, ever present and ready for whatever may come.