The story was a long one indeed, and it left him feeling empty and drained. Fajira had settled back down to sleep somewhere halfway through, interest waning when she realized that she knew most if not all of this already - she shared his mind after all, and partook in every thought, every fleeting memory; even the ones Lace thought he no longer remembered. In many ways the dragon knew her bonded better than he knew herself. But for the most part she didn't tell him this; it was healthy to discover yourself after all.
He had refrained from interrupting himself to respond to any of the remarks the girl made throughout the tale, and saw little reason to return to them now. In many ways they had made it quite clear that she had not understood the environment he had grown up in, that she didn't see why he, as she put it, pretended to be someone he wasn't. Wearing your heart on your sleeve, letting every emotion show plainly across the face was a sure-fire way to get yourself killed. If an enemy knew that a word, and action or a threat made you upset or angry or sad they would take that knowledge and use it against you, endangering not only your own life but the life of others as well. This fact, along with a rigorous training in etiquette and a fundamentally caring personality made it second nature for Lace to hide his troubles, so as not to burden others with his own problems. It was not polite to sully a perfectly pleasant conversation with grim topics if it wasn't necessary, it was not good manners to bring up subjects that might inconvenience or trouble a friend. It was downright uncouth to get intimate with a stranger, and this long story-of-my-life went against every rule of polite behavior that Lace had ever followed. Taking so much time of this girl to talk about himself! It was preposterous, just as bad as forcing her to remain here when she clearly didn't wish to.
But as much as he regretted his words and actions, he loathed the idea of parting while she had this impression that he was untruthful and dangerous. Lace was a stallion with some measure of pride, he didn't like the idea of his reputation getting sullied by misconceptions. If he necessarily had to gain a bad name it should be because of something he had done and thus deserved - not due to a mare's wild imagination.
So, despite a desire to just remove the vines and let Dröm go, he instead nodded when she offered to finally (FINALLY!) answer his question. "Yes, please."
The mission to gain her trust was still on, he would listen and try to understand... and with some luck (or rather a huge miracle) they would be able to reconcile and leave in peace.
@[Dröm] So sorry for the wait, love!
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[P] Silver trinkets and golden leather
