Dark blue eyes glance up from the ground as Brisa speaks softly— though her words carry an avalanche of meaning and emotion. His ears flick to the side at her tears, for he is torn between comforting the mare and holding the shreds of himself together. Though his good nature won, in the end, (and perhaps his need for being comforted was met by comforting another), and he reached out his broad muzzle to rest it light on the grey mare’s slender shoulder.

It was a simple, soft touch. But he spoke volumes in the silent pressure. The dark loss slowly ebbed out of him, as he hoped the panicked and lost look would leave her. It was remarkable how much more manageable emotions can become when being near others who have faced similar disasters.

He had shifted closer to the grey beauty, finding and offering solace with his great bulk. His eyes shifted to Whisper as she spoke, as she apologized. Though so many had offered an apology— and over time the words become meaningless. Sorry for what? For having a love, a foal, and a life ripped away? Are they really sorry for that? Because the elephant was so much more that sorry.

But, coming from the crying, broken form of Whisper, the words strangely held weight. Most likely because she knew the true loss, and thus her ‘sorry’ was rooted in knowledge. In feeling. Though it seemed Whisper’s feelings and demons were beginning to overwhelm her as she whispered to herself. Her eyes were unseeing, panicked even, as she looked at Astra. Lost, aqua eyes look at him, look at Brisa. They are frightened, distant.

They clear marginally, as she mutters something about herbs. “Whisper—Whisper come back to the here and now. You are safe and need rest,” his low voice is surprising calming and quiet. “Lie down with the foal that you are so lucky to have.” He takes a halfstep towards her, seeking to herd her away from her herb searching and towards Astra. “Brisa and I can find the herbs if you need them that badly,” he half offers, half demands, “Just guide us in their direction.” He glances once towards Brisa, uncertain if she is a slave to her demons as Whisper is.

An glimmer of surprise echoes through him, for he usually it is a much harder feat to keep his memories at bay. But the sight and presence of Astra has made it so easy. The thought of foals of his own dash through the shadows at the back of his skull. Could he?

He shook these thoughts away, for they were for a different time. A time with Rexanna…