So this was his lady, Hotaru, was it?

Well, he liked her. And he knew that because of how she spoke to him, and how he smiled back without thinking, easily. He didn't feel the burden of rank or the heaviness of a bow impressed upon his back, he felt only the relaxation of being with a kind and understanding ruler. He had missed her display at the herd meeting; had he been there, he likely would have respected her even more.

And her subtleties of speech and gesture were not lost on him. This company was all smiles and compliments, this experience thankfully much different than the struggle to accept Caleb under Thranduil's scrutinous gaze. In the end it had all been a trick, a misunderstanding, but Ashamin had still felt uncomfortable standing between the hybrid and the Laurelin. The haruspex attributed the comparatively simple interaction with Demothi and Hotaru to be to personality.

To attribute it to a matter of species, mistrust, and prejudice, was something he could not bear to do.

Lochan watched, white eye brightly lit up by the flame's flickering, and Ashamin stood close beside him. This was a peaceful gathering. Demothi asked questions, good ones, and Hotaru provided loyal and straightforward answers--and approval, too. And her comment to the haruspex himself, well, it made Ashamin feel trusted. And if Demothi was Ashamin's choice, his contribution, then Hotaru apparently had faith in that. The painted seer wondered if her 'temporary approval' was just an act to maintain the sort of loftiness many leads desired.

Ashamin wanted to say many things, but the tide of compliments overwhelmed him. He only looked down, locking black eyes with Lochan's white ones, and mumbled out something to change the subject. "I see a future as a healer for Demothi," he commented absently to Hotaru. Was Ashamin preoccupied by whatever was to end the white stallion's life, was he hoping following in the steps of the time menders might aid whatever pain of death was drawing upon him? Or was he simply pleased with the gentleness his new comrade had displayed?

"It is up to you what path you choose," he said then, looking vaguely in Demothi's direction but still too embarrassed by flattery to lock eyes with him. "The paths of mender, weaver, thief, soldier, and scholar all lie before you, if you wish to take up rank."

Ashamin's long tail wound about in the air--his gaze travelled cautiously to his lady's. She trusted him. She valued him. He was a part of her family. And he believed that, it was her sway as a leader that made such so.

But did he really even know her?

Ashamin