Själ

The frothing rage flowed beneath her skin, boiling her blood; in the distance, Ansgar cowered before her mistress's wrath. It was an anger that howled with pain, that was born of loneliness; it was a fury that could not be tamed, not even by the princess's best intentions. She had never meant to harbor such darkness in her heart, never wanted to shove her feelings aside, to put them in a little box and lock them away deep inside herself, to leave them there to grow and fester until one day they could no longer be tamed. She had never intended to reveal so much of her worst self to anyone, much less to a stranger -- and she was suddenly awash with guilt and shame, new emotions that bubbled up through her incessant ire. It was all too much, it was all too raw; she could not bear to keep it in, not now that it had been let out.

Nymeria's suppositions that their location had worsened the princess's mood were correct: the lies of love and loyalty that surrounded them left with with a sour, bitter taste in her mouth, as though she had bitten into a ripe and tender apple only to find that it had rotted away on the inside. How many of these so-called lovers would find one another after today? How many of them had been brought together by mutual affection, and how many by that oft-disguised lust? How many unwanted foals would be born of this day, only to be discarded and betrayed and abandoned as soon as their mothers decided that it would be better to just go off and die --

And there it was, the real problem, the memory of her mother striking a painful chord as she realized that her self-directed hatred (as though there was something wrong with her that had driven everyone away) was better off being sent towards her dearly departed matron. All of this passed behind heated amber eyes, nothing managing to stop the girl's internal rampage, nothing until: "You're not the only one who feels alone." Her world seemed to freeze then, a tiny, minuscule pause in the trajectory of her life that bade her to turn and look, truly look at the stranger beside her. Suddenly her anger seemed so very selfish and trivial, and slowly the heat of her fury began to wane. "Själ," she replied, offering her own name in return for Nymeria's. "You shouldn't have to be alone, either, you know."

She paused, mulling things over, considering the implications of the stranger's -- no, Nymeria's -- words. It would not be the first time that Själ had thought to trust someone, to allow someone into her life, to depend on them to be there for her. They had all let her down. Why would this mare be any different? Still... maybe... one last try... If Nymeria wanted someone to rely on, maybe she would be willing to return the favor. And, if she wasn't, then she would only be cementing the princess's path. "I would be reliable," she offered softly, hope and defeat at war in her hushed, murmured tones.

"Talk."
--Ansgar.--