Navy eyes sharpened on the small smile that tightened her features, but did not reach her electrified eyes. Such a smile to follow so closely on the heels of her earlier sneer was… strange. The Elephant continued to watch her closely, some concern for Ros washing away (or overshadowing) the residual anger he felt at Mauja.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one rent by the wreckage of the Frozen Light.

His mulling was confirmed as words began to come from the voltaic mare. Slowly at first, as if gatekeeper of her throat was unwilling to share the honest intonation of her voice. But as they continued rolling, it was clear the gate was overwhelmed by candor because, even though the syllables stumbled, they still came in a flood.

She returned his intent gaze with a hard stare, nearly accusing, “And I learned both those things from you.” Onyx brows raise marginally, but he remained silent, lines around his pursed lips the only indication of his mild disapproval. But he was not here to pass judgement— this young mare was not even committed to joining the Edge. No, he was here to listen; and so, with black-rimmed ears tilted forward, he continued to do so.

“We’ve seen some shit… done some shit.” Curiosity bubbled in him as words continued to surge from her: what had they done? “…through some of the hardest shit of my life.” What was hard for her? But, still, he does not interrupt with such a selfish question. Because to ask would be to satiate his curiosity, and clearly (by this catharsis of words) this woman did not need to be subjected to the whims of his prying. She was already answer his question, wasn’t she?

His head cocked slightly as she sighed, realizing that this was much more than an answer to his simple, “Why do you call him Lee?” Or, at least, this was a much more in-depth answer than he anticipated… There were many layers to knowing another, and perhaps the foundation was their name. But many things built on their foundation: Did their face turn blotchy when they cried? Red when angry? How many lines framed their eyes when they were truly smiling— when something absolutely delighted them? What made them jealous, and how did they assuage that damning, selfish greed? And here, Ros answered so much more than how she knew Mauja’s Lee’s name— she was answering how she knew him; what he meant to her.

The depth of her emotion surprised him— although perhaps he should have expected one such as frank and honest as Ros would hold their emotions out, simply and without pretense— “I care for him so much.” Some of the confusion cleared in the Elephant’s deep, navy eyes as they scanned her face.

“Who am I to him?”

He paused, waiting to confirm that she was finished, before his lips started to part to answer her--

“How can you be friends with someone when you don’t even know their name?”

The smallest of lopsided grins turned up a corner of his mouth as he pressed it back closed, waiting for a few, long moments while watching her to ensure he was not interrupting any last
bursts of her verbal purge. When silence held for long enough that he was satisfied she was finished, “Does he know your name?” The question was laced with surprise as it quickly slid out from his lips into the silence— but he frowned as he asked it because it wasn’t the real question he meant to say, “Or, I should ask, does knowing another's name is mean knowing them?” His eyes probed hers, “If that’s the case, then I know many friends— some of whom I’d rather not be friends with. And some—” his head cocked slightly, eyes growing thoughtful, “—who I care deeply for, and wouldn’t begrudge them ’dozens’ of others who, also, care about them; especially in an hour of need. Would you?” Would he have taken a different path if, after the deaths of those he loved, he had been surrounded as Mauja had? Would he be a different man, with fewer demons, than he was today? His lips pressed together once again, internally irritated that his thoughts turned selfish. He and his failures past were not the point, here.

“I cannot answer who you are to Mauja— or ‘Lee’— that is something only he can tell you. But I can say that, regardless of how many others he has surrounding him, it doesn’t devalue your relationship with him,” his low voice paused, head dropping to her level as he took a half-step towards her, “What you have with him, what I have with him, it is all unique— and, from what I know, he is not a cruel man,” was he? The feeling of warm blood pooling at on his horn (of angry, fleeing eyes) haunted him, but he mentally dismissed it, “So whatever you think you have is not a lie. Perhaps just needs to be—” he faltered for the word, “—talked about?”

Mbwene, swamped by the uncertainty and empathy flowing through their bond, peered out towards Chico from behind Tembovu’s back legs, trunk anxiously wringing circles in the air as the black and white, fuzzy, smug companion kept his distance from her. She had been irate with his amusement at scaring her— but now, with the affinity for Ros coming so strong from her bonded, her trunk suddenly wanted needed to be buried in his fur.

Tembovu

you thought you could outrun the world