The days had changed him and the nights had only melded those days together into a string of indecipherable loneliness. It was a never ending chain of loss that warped and transformed his confidence into silence and his normally reckless way of being into thoughtful reverie. Whatever he’d been, he was no more. Whatever he was now… well Atlas wasn’t sure anyone would know what to make of him. When his spirits were alight, he considered himself a beautiful disaster, but when they were adrift amid a stormy sea of chaos, he was nothing if not despaired.  But what, you may ask, sent him into such a downward spiral? Perhaps it was his mind and the way he longed for the kind of knowledge and power to overcome the effects of life and the hurts he’d come to know… or simply just his need to express more than he could positively name.

Either way, Atlas had gone from Helovia and returned with the wisdom he’d been searching for. He was certainly no master of the art, but patience had been afforded him and that patience was something that had clipped his wings in the past. As he roamed aimlessly through the vast range of the only place he’d considered a home, he took the time to truly see it where he had not before. He admired the lovely traces of an autumn sun as it poured through the branches above him or delighted in the faded blue of the ocean’s waves as they rolled in before him. All around him, Atlas found evidence of beauty and the kind of life he’d been avoiding to indulge his childish cravings. At last, the young colt had shed the veils of adolescence and grown into the man his father claimed he’d never be. That youthful belligerence has been tucked away in favor of maturity and his headstrong manner had been abandoned to accommodate humility.

Yet, to be frank, there still remained an essence of what once was. There was still that undeniable shimmer of intrigue in his eye and the promise of feeling in the way that he moved without reservation. Atlas was a force now instead of a lesson in need of heeding. He acknowledged his fears, but did not let them hinder him. He spoke outright with as much truth as any man could fathom, but did not let it become him. Yes, Atlas was changed, but he was in fact still just the same.

In the time it took for his name to be been forgotten from the lips of those he’d met, the starlit stallion had come to master himself completely, along with the magic he’d been keeping under wraps. At first it had been slow-going and incapacitating, but the time shaper had spent many a night staring at himself from beyond his body. He had learned of his power and come to understand fully how it affected him. He had watched the very same sunset too many times to count until his mind had collapsed from the sheer exhaustion of simply trying. But Atlas, the man who had once taken delight in evoking another’s frustrations, had learned how to manipulate time. Whether or not that was when his transformation had begun was yet to be determined, but somehow he thought it was the beginning of change.

As he travelled into new and unknown territory, still unaware of the rift Gods or the creatures that had risen up from the underworld, Atlas stumbled upon the most enchanting land of all. Above him, the stars reflected onto the waters below him. Amid the many constellations, he felt at ease, at home somehow. The region was wide and quite, the thin mirror of glass-like ocean water nearly as still as his slowed heartbeat.  Atlas had never found a place so suited to his liking and felt instantly that this was where he felt most at ease in his own skin. Reflective, the moon-kissed man waded into the shallow sea, his disruption causing the stars upon its surface to meld and shift against his gentle wake. Desiring to immerse himself in such beauty, Atlas tilted his face toward the fluttering of moon dust upon the water. It wasn’t until he’d done as much that he realize the faint refrains of song as they was lifted to the moon above, angelic. He imagined that the land was inviting him home, welcoming him into the tender heaving of life’s embrace, but even the narrow sea told a different tale than his mind’s envisioning, for the soft wavering of its surface radiated from a distance.

Instead of thinking, he followed Orion’s belt toward his curiosities and the many questions that bloomed from their very existence. Atlas had wondered if this was a message from the Gods, a summoning of sorts in the dead of the night, but what, or rather who, he found was certainly no creature of divinity at all… but something else entirely. She, for with a voice as pure as hers there was no alternative, was a woman he’d seen many times before in the faces of a million others. Atlas had in fact been quite the Casanova in his day you see, but there was something softer, something innocent, something the spoke of pain and of reckoning in the way she danced, the way she sang. He watched for so long, hidden amongst the stars in his coat and the stars all around… for she was beautiful and free. Selfishly, Atlas longed for her freedom and wanted nothing more than to take it from her unknowing hands, but instead found himself frozen by that which he desired so strongly.

What then could he do? He could not steal away something he could not touch and so he reconciled with the fact that something so sacred could not be taken, but perhaps learned. That girl, he decided, was where his journey began… even if the fates told different tales of the future. Without hesitation, Atlas moved forth to greet her, a man now instead of a child. Even as the moonlight illuminated the stardust along his coat and cast a vacant glow across his path, he still had yet to experience the woman’s true loveliness. Only her song had drawn him from his wandering and calmed the calamity in his soul. “Your song,” he began thoughtlessly, imprudently. “Where did you learn it?” It mattered not how many times she had been pressed with such a trivial questions, at least not to Atlas. He was effortlessly striking upon approach and sadly that arrogance had not yet faded. It was in that way that he often forwent proper greeting or introduction, even in the presence of proper ladies. He had grown, that much was certain, but there still remained an emptiness in his heart, a void and lack of caring that still riddled him useless. Perhaps that was merely the way he was meant and would always be.

He had come from a world known only to vagabonds and raconteurs, one too familiar to his own gypsy heart.  Atlas was a man who was increasingly comfortable with his desires and having them whetted by those willing to bend to him. Whether that made him selfish or vile, the stallion was not concerned. He breathed the essence of life as if it were a fine drink or a delectable food- he’d been spoiled by his ability to persuade the masses with his appearance alone. That arrogance had left him lacking, that much was certain, and it made leaving his simplest feat yet. But, Helovia had enraptured him and stolen his need to run from all that threatened to bound him. He had disappeared from this place just as easily as the last and the vacancy he’d left behind was quickly filled. It did hurt him to remember how he’d taken refuge within the open arms of some he considered friends, but Atlas had never mastered the art of friendship… He simply couldn’t understand the relationship shared between those who sat and talked about their days as they wasted away beneath a dying sun. Were they not meant to be something more than that? He’d been born into the world a man of sensation and he wanted to feel all that the cosmos had to offer. He wanted to taste and to touch, to hear and to see everything around him with such vivid remembrance.

That need for dreaming and for wondering had all but depraved him of the kind of company he so desired though. Atlas was not one to settle so easily when he knew that there existed a creature out there meant solely for him. They would be able to understand him and his musings, his ravings, and even his moments of utter silence. He’d yet to find anyone so like his dreams and therefore felt he would remain the only of his kind. Everyone he’d met had been too superficial, too transformed by their convictions and their beliefs to see beyond the monotony they lived by. Each and every one of them, Ashamin, Tiamat, and even those of the Basin, had all craved the approval of one another- a family. Atlas was not so moved by the notion of togetherness, but more so by an unshakable bond that was recognized and cherished simply because it surpassed the mindless oaths one declared because it was required. Love, friendship, hatred- they were all just emotions that drove the common man to believe himself accomplished. But, Atlas wasn’t common… at least he prayed to the Gods that he would not become so fettered by such petty ideas.

Perhaps that was why he had avoided returning to the Aurora Basin. It was a stifling place that relied too heavily on expectations.

All thoughts aside however, the stallion was again pressed into the reality of the time he manipulated. He saw only the mare and her star-studded eyes as they glittered happily in the moonlight. Atlas studied her as she shifted from her euphoric song in order to settle again into the bones that bound her to the flats and to the life in which she lived. He wondered briefly if her songs carried her away from herself so that she might transcend the boundaries of her world, because they were in fact that beautiful. She appeared awestruck by his arrival and somehow it was not the most shocking reaction he’d yet received. He, in all his splendor, had not forgotten the way his eyes harbored both the moon and sun and the touch of starlight that shifted across his skin. Atlas did not mind her admiration, but instead relished it as her soft eyes widened, amazed. Through the veil of night he could not decipher her complexion or the mere color of her gaze, but only the light that burned bright in their depths.

Even the creature at her heels appeared a mere figment of the imagination, though Atlas was not unaccustomed to the unusual any longer. He’d met dragon hybrids and their reptilian companions in the past, so was it any wonder that this mare carried beside her a beast just as transcendental? Yet, his curiosities were not kept long by her otherworldly choice of companionship, but rather by her thoughtfulness. The stallion watched pointedly as the light in her eyes shifted downward, toward the answers he sought, but could not see, within the waters at their feet. When at last her voice breeched the soothing quiet of their tentative meeting, Atlas hummed. It was a low and fascinated tune, one that agreed with her whimsical response even if he could not yet decipher how she had plucked her rhythm from the sun. “Then tell me, what chorus do the mountains sing? And the rain?” he prodded boldly.   “How have you the capacity to hear them?”

Did she possess a talent unseen, much like the one that thrummed within his own chest? To prove to himself that it still existed, he closed his eyes in order to feel the warmth and electricity of the magic granted him by the God of Spark. When he again opened them, he glared down upon himself in the gentle tide, tracing the lines of his face as he pondered. Atlas was unmoving when the dove spoke again, this time pressing her will upon him as so many had done before. Lena. It was a name that rolled easily from the tongue in a way that made him want to remember her. The stallion wanted nothing more than to repeat it back to her, but decided against it in fear that she would catch the glint of fascination from his words. “You may call me Atlas,” he answered while looking up from his reflection. Names were unimportant in his opinion, but for the dove he would allow such trivialities, at least for now.

Stars were scattered the world over. They were sewn into his flesh, laced amid the nighttime sky, and shining up at them from the gentle swell of the shallow tide. It felt as though the two had stumbled across a world all their own. Atlas had never seen something more beautiful or divine- he wished to linger there for as long as the fates allowed and with prime company of course. For a moment the stallion felt betwixt by the sheer elegance of his surroundings and he attempted on more than one occasion to pretend that it would never come to an end. But all things grand and lovely were never meant to last…

He watched as the soft glimmer of starlight reflected across the water and he delighted in the translucent glow it shed along the gentle curves of Lena’s face. For the first time in his life, Atlas saw what numerous others had seen in him and enjoyed the sweet touch of the Gods as they shone up from the ocean’s reflection.  Where the stallion wore his beauty outwardly, Lena expressed it from within. Never before had he met another like her and knew that, somehow, he would never encounter the likes of her again. Atlas was an indulgent man who took and spent what he liked, but those that were willing to afford him such gluttonous behaviors were nothing like the heavenly creature before him. Her innocence and purity lanced through him like a brittle blade, taking with it the stitches and bandaged security he’d manage to patch together as his own. To Atlas, Lena was beautiful not for her plainness or her soft manner, but for her involuntary kindness and fragile strength.  She was like the wind that howled through the vacant valleys of the very mountains her songs mimicked, so free.

Again, he longed to rob her of that utter freedom she embodied, but instead directed his bi-colored gaze toward the moon above. His breath caught shallowly in his throat as she regarded him, the weight of her stare opening wounds across his skin, unseen. Somehow he felt bear and vulnerable beneath her careful observation, though he could not pretend that her fascination was so compelled, but more imagined. Yet, somewhere in the pit of his longing there remained a selfish want for her curiosity and her attention. Atlas desired nothing more than to be desired or to be an object of interest to those he too admired.  It was greed and arrogance that drove him to such lengths, but that very sensitivity was rarely discussed or truly noticed.

When at last Lena spoke, her voice projecting across the star-riddled surf, Atlas did not falter. Instead, he bent toward her, his eyes turning loosely across the plains of her face, her neck. He imagined the darkness of the mountains and the silent chorus they sang in tune with the winds that often surged between their pregnant berths. The tune was rich and low in his mind, but it quickly changed to follow the subtle notes that Lena pressed between his own waiting lips. For a mere second they parted, silently shaping around the scales that he couldn’t, himself, sing.

Atlas thought of the rain too and the way it smelled when the forest was ripe in spring. Again he attempted to utter the sounds that came to him, but only silence bowed from the hard curvature of his mouth. He felt at a loss. It was as if Atlas had spent his whole life focusing only on the sound of his own beating heart while the world sang sweet melodies all around him. The stallion would never admit to his own preference for solidarity, but that had been the first time Atlas had ever considered the sounds of the world at large. Lena had shown that to him and suddenly a feeling of unobstructed freedom swelled from deep within… and he desired more.

There was a great pause that surfaced thereafter, though it was not due from tension or misunderstanding, just quiet, unequivocal thought. Atlas had never been struck by another’s wisdom so thoroughly, so passionately, because that was how Lena spoke of her songs and her laurels. Even as the stallion’s name rolled effortlessly from her tongue, he noticed the certainty in the syllables. What was it that gave her breath, gave her the right to live so comfortably within her own skin? Hadn’t Atlas ever been that way?

He thought back to when he’d first arrived in Helovia and the horses he’d met since then… They’d all been too distracted by him to truly understand the farce that he was. Atlas was loud and opinionated, bold and yet not courageous. Those were all things he could only hope to be and all things that his well-crafted façade could momently afford. He hated his own indecency, but could not seem to find a way around it… it had become too ingrained, too fixed into the fibers of his being. As he deliberated such truths, he studied the stars above as they stared back at him. They were beautiful, mysterious, and utterly silent… why couldn’t Atlas be the same?

“I hear sadness… Does that make a sound?”

Like ships, their bows met abreast. She was a vessel anchored against the sun while he was a mere schooner adrift amidst the wide sea. Somehow they’d come to find one another, their sails turned away from the careful gales of destiny. Whatever or wherever they were meant to be appeared to be all but persuaded, and yet time afforded them small rewards-- tiny inklings of wonder to be dispersed when at last they parted ways. Atlas was not so fooled as to think himself taken by the mare, but certainly fascinated by her virtue and abstraction, her honesty and unwavering conviction. Around Lena, Atlas was a tempest rising with the tide and swathing her in the darkness of his chaotic splendor. He considered himself too wild and too primitive for her graces and yet that selfishness, that self-worship, and undying need to appease his own desires would not let her pass unscathed.

It was as if she had grown to him, a flower pressed against his neck that entwined itself amid the midnight colored locks of his hair. Atlas relished the feel and journeyed to enjoy the sounds of her voice, for it embodied many tunes and beautiful symphonies. Lena was a wonder that captured his favor and, if summoned, could make even the celestial beast bend knee before her.  Never before had the man’s affections been so influenced and at times he was forced to believe that the mare herself was enchanted.

Her severity and wisdom had bewitched him, though he fought against the whimsical charm of her song. When again she allowed for the fracturing of their silence, Atlas paused to contemplate her-- the simplest of answers and yet the most alluring. He wanted to know of the feeling such a tune entailed, because it was something he detected in her wary smile. Perhaps he was presumptuous or merely eager to see in Lena what he liked, but there was something in the subtle curve of her lips, the soft pooling of skin around her eyes as they shuttered in and out of the moonlight, that spoke of sorrow. Atlas himself had never been so emotional nor had he been slighted by the grief of anything quite so cumbersome, but he sympathized for those ridden by such heaviness. Perhaps it was only that he lacked that honest feeling that drove his companions… that freedom to wear his heart upon a tattered sleeve.

As he mused over his own foolish woes, he nearly missed the changing of Lena’s quiet face, the careful bending of her shoulders as she reached out to touch him. Her muzzle was velveteen and it sent a warm wave of comfort across his skin, electric. Slowly, he turned to face her, confused and bewildered by her closeness, but finally accepting… overjoyed. The decadence of flesh upon flesh was not unfamiliar to Atlas and he welcomed it more often than not. Yet, Lena did not appear to him a woman that freely gave what others considered small favors. As she again returned to her own warmth and personal being, Atlas watched her unabashed. He wished to return her touch, but could not find the courage to violate her, fearing that she would flee. He worried that if he ruined her momentary braveness that she would close her pages to him once and for all.

“Do you speak from experience?” he questioned with genuine sincerity. So much had changed him and so much had been taken and given so aimlessly before. But the time Atlas had spent with Lena was endearing to him, a token to be kept close to heart. Though he wished her always by his side, to lead his wayward thoughts to true and trusted walks, he knew that there was little fortune in his life… and to be awarded such fine companionship would never be his fate.

The many secrets sealed behind her gentle demeanor were evident in the way she spoke, her words soft and subtle, forever denying Atlas his curiosities. What were they now that their boundaries had been forged, erected tall against one another despite the eerie desire to see them felled? Atlas wished to tumble over the rocks of her vacant shores and wander the sands beyond, cradle her warmth against his chest, and fret over the many troubles that remained unspoken. In an involuntary effort to understand and to see beneath her flesh and the ideas Lena meant everyone else to see, the stallion pressed forward, his muzzle dipped toward the astral seawaters that impersonated his smile. Though, as his eyes turned downward toward his reflection, all that he could decipher was the fiery blaze of color that glared back at him. In truth, Atlas was an ugly creature that, when turned outside in, would alarm the delicate sensibilities of the lovely lady, Lena.

What did she see in him that caused her pause, compelled her to stay when others had gone? He would be a liar if he denied his flowering attraction, that primitive interest that goaded the fires of all men. It often overcame him, flourishing in private moments of fantasy that remained ever secret to the prying of forward ladies. Yet, his tongue felt loose now, almost drawn from his lips as he shared such vulnerable moments with the innocence of a woman so proper, so grand. Lena stood a fortress before him, a mystery that his eager will could not bend nor sway. With time, he thought, she might reveal herself to him—her thoughts, her dreams, her mere words. Atlas longed for as much.

However, Atlas longed for many things. He longed for travel, for adventure, for sights that others had not seen. The last he’d seen Helovia, he’d been stifled and ill-fit to tether himself to the great responsibilities of family, of friends, of promises that he’d been too vain to keep. Though, he missed those days admittedly, if only for the kind faces he’d met and the celebratory words he’d shared. Of course, he’d only been a jest back when… a sheer illusion of wayward behavior and silver tongue. A small smile touched his lips at the thought, but it quickly faded in favor of turning attention to Lena.

Always vague, perhaps evading him for good reason, the mare was hesitant to voice her answer without reservation. She puzzled him. Instead of delving into the waters, she desired to tread upon them, twirling about while Atlas simply intended to drown. They were certainly polar opposites—she the earth and he the stars— but together they were two powerful forced combined. “Then I should think you formidable,-” Atlas stated with a soft, but growing smile. He did not want to indulge in games this time, but the way in which Lena spoke hinted toward the cryptic bindings of her life. She was indirect, intelligent, but ultimately stronger than he’d thought. “-and believe that second chances are worth the laboring.”

Clearly, Lena had endured much in her lifetime, things Atlas couldn’t presently imagine given her ability to overcome and conquer her woes. Yet, he’d see her tongue unraveled… her hurts betrayed. Perhaps it would not happen in a day, in a month, in a year, but Atlas wondered if she would keep him close, a friend… or whatever her heart desired. The stallion reveled in her humor and her smile, captivated by her compliments and talent for distraction. He hadn’t missed her willingness to move from topic, but was content to let her lead the way. “Is that so? Flattery is certainly uplifting when given by such fine company.” Though he suspected her kind graces held duel meaning… Atlas couldn’t yet decipher the alternative.

Beautiful and yet broken.

If he’d had any sense to put it all together, Atlas would have realized the kind of creature he’d stumbled upon amid the plain of stars. He would have pressed her to heart like the stitches he bore there and tickled the fine threads that bourgeoned between them. Of course, his affections, too child-like and inexperienced, went unstated, weeds drifting into the wind. He watched as they spiraled before him, only to delight in the way they perished shortly after. Who was he to kid anyhow? He wasn’t a man made to marvel the feminine attitude, but one more beset by their physical charms… Was that a behavior that had become apparent since meeting Lena or was she still as blissfully unaware of the rogue’s intimate preferences? It was that surmounting self-damnation that compelled him to pull away, briefly, both emotionally and outwardly as well. Atlas had come to abhor those parts of himself and yet couldn’t find reason enough to dispel his outlandish amenities, at least not presently. Perhaps it was a feat better left to old age when at last his demons came to collect their retribution.

On a dime, that seeming carelessness, childishness, and foolhardy sense of wonder became shrouded in the mists of doubt. He had reached for the very mountain caps in hopes of revealing something otherworldly about the fair Lena, but she thwarted him at every turn, too witty and perhaps too clever to fall for even his best antics. There was something she guarded, a secret or two that could not be unwedded by his playfulness alone, but something more-- something less desirable on his part and clearly anticipated on hers. Whatever the motive, Atlas bore it little mind… He was just as quiet as the heavens that most of Helovia prayed to. His contemplation was easily defined in the narrowing of his gaze and the tilting of his chin—he didn’t expect much from the mare, but he hadn’t thought she’d render him nothing at all. Perhaps it was just that he then stood all too indifferent, a boy being tricked by a sly maid.

Was it any wonder that he could be swayed so easily from the momentary addiction caused from her touch? She was like a snare, wily and yet lovely, dangerous and yet so very beautiful. One had to be careful around such brilliance, for Lena was not common by any means. She was a creature well-crafted for the destruction of his kind, a weapon that could not only break his heart, but his mind, and that was an idea that stirred the man from pursuing her… just yet. The woman he’d taken up company with was one that required all or nothing, his whole, but never just half. It was something that he’d learned in the short time at her side and appreciated for its singular value. Whether or not Atlas was up for the task was certainly debatable however, because he’d never been too tethered to any one thing or any one agenda. That was not typically his nature. Yet, Lena left with him more than just a pleasant taste, but an overwhelming, delightful sensation.

She spoke of second chances and of lives that Atlas himself had not yet lived, but there were still answers upon his tongue that wanted nothing more than to be heard by her ear. Was that a friendship, a relationship, which the man now desired? Was that a part of the second chances she spoke of? He wasn’t sure—it felt like a trap somehow, another circle in which she twirled around him while he fell easily under her spell. “You’re looking at it,” he stated while staring intently at her face, her eyes,and her lips as they curved. In truth, he didn’t know what to make of second chances so much as new beginnings, and Lena was just that, a new and wonderful beginning that he feared would make all beginnings dull by comparison. Her puzzle-like framework had betwixt and beguiled him, ensnared and utterly overwhelmed him. If second chances were as empowering as he’d made them seem, then certainly Lena would understand the brevity of his answer. This was his attempt at friendship and whatever lurked beyond. This was his new beginning.

"And what of you? How will you spend your second chance?" 

If she’d been an ice cap, a cold and frigid thing too icy to be budged, Atlas would have lit a fire. If she’d been a cautious gale, one better meant to ride the tide out across the vast ocean swells, Atlas would set his sails. His curiosity had been piqued and his growing sense of wonder was still ballooning to greater heights, if only because Lena had given him breath. Atlas was a sensible man, an intelligent creature that stood no stranger to affairs of the heart or the mind. Whether he had been touched by his desires or otherwise still remained unclear, but there was one thing he knew for certain, and that was his need to uncover the secrets presented from those painted lips. In truth, it was likely a fool’s mission, but Atlas was also no stranger to playing such a part. His heart guided him where his mind could not… and he never thought to question his motives before taking the plunge.

He didn’t care for the way she balked at his sentiments or the way that her eyes found him equally dismayed. Yet, that momentary lapse in judgement was short-lived and his demeanor restored not long after. Atlas was familiar with many emotions, but shame and guilt were not often among them- especially when he still felt his second chance was standing before him. Lena represented more to him than a friendly face, but instead a shattered being attempting to walk a road toward repairing her life. She had insinuated as much in his opinion, even if she hadn’t articulated it in as many words. Her secrets and her guarded nature were telling enough and Atlas saw himself reflected there, a kindred soul sharing burdens untold. But what then was the man hiding that caused him so much grief?

He had left so many things—lovers, friends, family, responsibility… Was it any wonder he’d come and gone without as much as a single goodbye? Who did he hold dear that would have cared to see him go? His youth had been enchanting for a boy of his age, but the recklessness and the wild abandon had outgrown him, or he it. Either way, Atlas was still trying to find footing, find reasons to simply stay… In his desperation, he believed he’d manage to find something, anything, to keep him earthbound… and here it was.

He hadn’t the words to explain it or any foundation on which to build his aspirations, but they had begun to cement themselves within. Walls had brought them together and could possibly rip them apart, but Atlas was willing to overlook Lena’s chilling response if only to give himself a reason to linger… It was irrational and perhaps utterly unfounded, but at least it was a start… to something. “Who said I was wasting them?” he questioned stoically. The man felt no desire to explain himself or his decisions, at least not when they were pressed against unwilling ears. Instead, he shifted lightly to stretch out his stiffening joints, unfazed. Did it matter to her that he would forever remain unmoving, a creature now devoted to a cause he couldn’t quite name? It wasn’t love –no, not yet- and it wasn’t an idea –though he wished it were-, but another entity altogether. It was a promise to do this one thing for another, someone other than Atlas himself.

Lena was damaged in some way or perhaps just struggling through the trials of life alongside him… Whatever she was hiding, whatever it was that she kept close to heart, was something that obviously caused her pain. Her answers were as cryptic as his own desires, but at least he wouldn’t let them find voice enough to confuse and mislead her. Of that he remained true…

“It’s a good thing that life is full of chances then, wouldn’t you say?” he replied while studying her soft smile. Everything about her was soft and it worried him that anything so delicate could ever suffer at the hands of fate or otherwise.

He would stay.

She mused for a time thereafter and Atlas was content to follow suit. If she was the road that led him toward redemption, then so be it. Lena would be his guide. But could he trust her to take up such a role? Surely with a little prodding she could be maneuvered to such a position… and Atlas had never been one to take “no” for an answer, at least not without a fight. As he watched her studying him, he smiled at her remark- it wouldn’t take much. “I’ll chase them with you.” He turned then, his star-kissed pelt shimmering against the light of the waning moon, and smiled wide. Lena wouldn’t have to run far- he’d already pulled the stars from the heavens just for her… if only because she’d given him something to believe in.