Valiance’s weight is welcome, a physical representation of the drop his heart makes when he thinks that home, if he wants to be among those he had known before, is no longer in the Edge; gone is his quiet clearing with the perfectly notched tree, the sparkle of his collected things forever lost beneath the leaves that, surely, had accumulated in his absence.

He thinks of the misty forest as Resplendence explains what became of the Edge, the pretty light that the grullo casts with his magic flickering across her face and through the misty veil of rain, all of whom seem distant in the lull of his thoughts, even Ranjiri, so close.

Dragomir remembers the floating island, and the clouds that had stolen him away into the heavens. He remembers Kahlua dancing beneath the stars, in a celebration for the Moon. It is one of his last memories here, one that hurts still as he remembers it – because she had worn his glass, the glass he had made with love for her writ on every fiber of his will as he cast it over the flowers and gems he had gathered, the glass which had earned him, not the love he had desired, but a gracious thank you.

He pushes those thoughts aside to hear how others would come to view the island, so serene, as a bearer of sadness as he himself did. Following the tale that Resplendence weaves, he finds validation to the wariness that had filled him as he spied the shrine built for the Goddess in the land of the Moon, the same wariness that had kept him from it for the years he had lived there.

What comes next, however, makes the stallion’s eyes widen. An invasion?

It defied every notion that, as far as he was concerned, anyway, Kahlua had lead the herd in favor of. Peace, a unified Helovia, a land where none had to fear. And yet, to save her own skin, the Sunshower had done the opposite of every creed she had ever sought to serve. To add further disgust to the overall viewpoint of the tall stallion, it was done with the Basin, a herd that was, as far as Dragomir had heard it, morally deplorable.

The truth settles like stones in the waters of his thoughts, too many droplets pooling within his mental basin until it overflows. His crystalline eyes grow hard, almost icy, though he does not condemn his compassionate friend – nor does he truly condemn Kahlua (though he knows why none have seen her, the mare likely hiding from her shame), Kaj, whoever Archibald is. He simply feels angry, and knows in his heart that the actions, driven by fear, perseverance, selfishness, were unjust.

Wrong.

Yet, as always, he is overwhelmed by the more present of the present, a tricolored statue of silent indignation and anger at the cruel turn of the world. Lace delves into words of Mauja, and Torleik, names Dragomir does not know but are said with an air of dislike… and yet, he lists their crimes, crimes which make the chocolate and ivory stallion decide he does not care for these individuals if what Lace says is true. And yet, the Steadfast’s son also understands how bitter an aging heart can be, how unable to let go of old ideals and lost stories.

His father lives among ghosts. Why wouldn’t this man have a few, as well?

His simpering questions almost say as much, that he has heard the Edge was abandoned and still wonders why it has new rulers; but compassion wells in the heart of the young stag, a mortal worry that such a fate will befall himself easing his hardened eyes into softer ones, eyes that understand what it is to find things changed and to dislike the course.

Softened by the mourning in the stallion’s voice, Dragomir’s resolve breaks entirely as Ranjiri finds her voice as all is said between the two long term herd mates.

He turns to look at her as she steps away, a surprise widening his eyes.

Her brother, her father? The thought makes his heart tremble, a memory instantaneously drawn to mind of the same girl quivering with tears, so afraid of the idea that this family would be angry with her with events she could not control, so deep was her love.

Ranjiri… he says, softly, a step taken nearer to her.

Where had he been while she wept this time? He probably couldn’t even remember.

And who had held her?

As much as I miss Mirage, states the stallion more boldly, letting his eyes look from Lace to Resplendence (such softness lighting his features as he sees her morose face, so torn by the actions she had known to be wrong, forced to rely on the strength of others as so many of the meek), their gently glinting blue light landing at last upon Ranjiri, I hope she doesn’t return. She would be ashamed of what has come to pass by the hooves of those who wielded her light of peace.

To take a needed home is tolerable. To take by force, because they feared the retribution of the Goddess? his mouth becomes a frown, his tail swishing behind him as his ears splay, disliking the entire course of this conversation, the course his quiet and peaceful world had taken whilst he’d turned his back, the Edge has earned her wrath more than most, the moment they turned their back on peace.

He shakes his head, slowly, as if he might rattle loose the ugly truths that settle and sink like leaden weights, letting the rain soak into the dark cords of his mane, almost savoring the cold kiss of the falling water to the hot knot of outrage that twists and burns in him that they, his people, had crushed the serenity of others so completely.

It was in the Edge’s light he had hidden his darkness, their light which had allowed him to force the wickedness in his heart to still and shrink. The light now seemed a falsified flame, lit to please the ears of the trusting and extinguished when the need for violence arose.

His head begins to ache, a slow pulse of agony. He wants to fold into himself and hide, to slip back out into the rain and away from all these things that hurt.

But they have already embedded. He cannot run, not now.

I… I think I will walk Ranjiri home, he says at long last, letting his ears fall aside in defeat, succumbing to the heavy waves of reality that he truly did not feel up to swimming today – he deftly decides to pick which wave to breast, instead, I know the way to the Falls, Resplendence.

And he does – though he does not know it, he even met Ranjiri’s father on the venture, having traveled with a small party to parlay on the matter of Aurelia. He had loved the land of rivers and waterfalls when he had first laid eyes upon it, the rapturous beauty of the earth’s realm an alluring counter to the tall, dark wood of the Edge – though he now imagines the water red, despite the memories of it being clear as crystal.

I will think about your offer.

[ OOC: longest dragomir post everrrrrr oh and look he said stuff :D ]