Hesitance, she almost faltered as her words attempted to start; Azzuen thought a moment that he had overstepped his bounds, that she was not ready to unveil the past tracks she had walked, events that had brought her to stand here, beside him, within his embrace. All for his own stupid, selfish gains; he yearned for the comfort of her voice, for more knowledge of her mysterious being, he wanted to know more about her, so that he might know her even better. But then she did speak, and he relaxed, not realising he had suddenly grown tense in waiting for her musical tones to grace his ears again. He had been so worried, so afraid that he had done something to wrong her, something to cause her trust in him to waver –but it was not he at all, rather, it was her own self, battling with past events as they bubbled to the surface of her membrane, and spilled forth in a delicate harmony of narrative.

He feared that darkness, or shame existed in her past, and he was sorry should that be the case, to have asked her to relive it, to have brought the memories to the forefront of her mind once more just for his own selfish wants of her comforting harmonic voice – he felt horrible. But she continued to speak, and he gladly listened, absorbing each word carefully, clinging to the names and identities of those important places and beings who crafted this beautimous maiden into the divine creature she was. He nodded when she asked him of snippets he had already been told, and otherwise provided his velveteen maw against her silken skin in silent encouragement for her continuation of speech.

Her eyes fell away from his then, to her reflection, then to the horizon, the never-ending line that defined their existence, the line that was always there; a comfort to a winged being was that horizon, for it symbolised both a border and a lack of borders simultaneously. There was many a moment in the time of Azzuen’s life that he too had sought comfort in staring off to the horizon, especially on his travels, when one knew not what that line might be bringing, or what you were running away from. Their stories were not all that dissimilar, and it was almost pacifying for the steed to recognise that they truly were meant for each other; even in knowing so little about the other’s past, they had been drawn together, and they would now live their lives along very similar paths; that of family, love and devotion.

Without disturbing her posture, he gently cupped her nape beneath his own crown and serpentine, offering a soothing embrace, a silent thank you for entrusting him with her tale. “Voltaic was angry at me, just as I was angry at myself, all those years.” He spoke quietly, finding it easier now; like Cass had given him the cure to his grief, he was now able to reflect on it with little side effects of depression and overwhelming darkness and sadness. “Though we fled for different reasons, our actions did bring us together, and in turn, brought Cirrus to us as well.” He had regretted running for so long, until now; now, he realised, he lived without regrets, and he hoped Cass would feel the same, soon.

“You never know what the future may bring,” though perhaps I will suggest to Kri to appoint you her Oracle, so that you might indeed know what lies around the corner, “if you like, I am happy to travel with you once Cirrus is older, to find your sister. Maybe she was bitten by the travelling bug too.” Though there was always the possibility that the life of her sister had already expired, he hoped with all his heart that that was not the case, and he refused to even dwell upon that. “Fear not what they feel for you, Cass, for I am certain that they act only in sadness for losing their beloved daughter, and sister.” Certainly Azzuen would be a bumbling mess should she ever leave him, her or Cirrus, who knew what he would have been capable of when blinded by rage, a rage induced by loneliness of a lover lost – he hoped to never find out.