But, as she damned the Dauntless in the silent boundaries of her mind, Miykael decided to come to her aid. Confúuused? HAH, me?! she thought, definitely shouting from the insides that she wasn't that old yet. However after putting aside her own frustrations and pride, when she started to think logically about it, she realized it was true: This was not the Throat.
Without seemingly even flinching, the stallion came to her without hesitating, let some kind of washy glow fall over her senses. It felt nice and, little by little, she felt her aching lungs calm down and the feeling that she was leaking from all holes starve away. She could see again, see realized as she let her eyes follow the one that had selflessly healed her. "Oh." She blinked, thought for a moment that the angelic vibe he had over him like a glow had just been her washy eyes, but it was just him. Appreciating her refreshed senses, she barely heard what the Czar had to say. He had loosened his magical grip on her and immediately which had made her calm down more, too. Nevertheless she could not just simply ignore the fact that it had happened, as she hated constricting magic with a (newly found) passion.
The Diviner ‘hmpf’ed once, proving her lasting irritation as she started to turn her body around after throwing one last glance on the mare and her newborn foal. Yet, her muscles had relaxed and the tones in her voice had lost the rage from a minute ago. (She knew) Somewhere he was right: Of course the warriors of the Throat would react the same way, and even if they did not… well, either way she could not speak for them. “Let’s hope they do,” At least she could now tell her Sultan she had intimidated the Dauntless of the Falls. That was something, right? Yet another story to tell. “Just be sure to mark me down as a 'no-threat', please and thank you.” Maren found his eyes and bowed her head with too much of a smile to be true. “Priests only corrupt minds, not bodies,” she mumbled in a hesitant whisper to the ground. She swallowed; “...Or so I’ve heard.” Then again, he could not expect her to not be at least a tiny bit frustrated — for she had the right to be furious. And she could not help noticing the little goosebumps pushing up the hairs on her red-striped back either, for she was afraid her loud-mouth might spit out something that would anger him again, falling back into that hole of consequences — and suddenly she longed to be... home. Back in the Throat, where her family, tasks and projects awaited her, for she needed that rock-farm now more than ever.
“My name is Maren”, she finally concluded with a sigh after having pulled up her head, watching his gold eyes now in freedom. Realizing she might have been wrong after all, so she put up the most sincere smile she could muster. “As long as my bones are as light as the feathers on my head I will be perfectly fine wandering back south on my own.” She turned her head to the new mother. Maren smiled, now sincere. Adoring the tiny foal and his childish speech (now that it can't say stupid things yet). “Congratulations, you are in good hands,” in her hushed, feminine voice of course referring to the angelic Miykael. Finally, she turned her tiger striped frame towards... wherever, as she realized she had no idea through what creative way her mixed sensed had actually brought her into this corner of Helovia. And thus she acknowledged (after an awkward clearing of her throat) in a slightly forced way the offer of the Czar —just one more time. “Yes, please escort me.”
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[O] second chances, new beginnings [birth]
