The ground beneath her feet quivers and quakes under the force of his approach. She registered but did not think further on what it might mean, what the cause could be until the stallion shoots past her in a flurry of dark skin and long legs and flying mane. She jerked her head up in surprise and squatted on feeble haunches so little prepared to carry her weight, prepared to flee, fight, fly if he came at her.

But no. There was no attack - well at least not a physical one. He just cut off her path back to the safety within borders, slammed his big, sweaty bulk in front of her and quipped, words a vicious snarl that caused her ears to tip backwards on her poll. He glared at her and Erthë glared back, anger seeping like frigid shards of ice through her veins, causing tinted alabaster temples to pulse and pound in pace with her heart. How dare he cut her off like that! Who did he think he was, to block someone's path when they had decided not to get themselves involved! So infuriating, the way he addressed her - like she was nothing, like she could be commanded and pushed around by the likes of him!

Then she saw the tears. Dark lines streaking down his cheeks, tell-tale moisture gleaming around blazing eyes - it seemed so wrong, because, come on. Rikyn, the smart-assed, self-absorbed Rikyn, crying? What was wrong with the world, was it about to end soon or what. Erthë wanted to laugh at the sight, to point and jeer and prod that open wound of his whatever it might be, return the favor of irrational loathing and malcontent he so carelessly dished out for her whenever they crossed paths.

She wanted to mock him for this visible display of weakness; to her own dismay however, the only thing she felt was a faint, reluctant stab of sympathy.

Oh. So even stones could bleed. She never knew.

"By that... do you mean you want me to stay?" In the question danced question marks, raised eyebrows and grim, cynical humor.

She was not allowed to leave, but what did he mean by keeping her there, on the beach, with him? Not for a moment did she believe he needed a shoulder to cry on, and even if he did she would never allow it. Kind as she was, forgiving and caring as she was, there were limits to how far backwards she could bend.

"If you are only going to insult me then forget it - I'm not in the mood today."

She could have pressed on, walked on and stepped around the living, breathing, seething man in front of her. Instead she waited, a brow raised and tail snapping impatiently from side to side, pausing while he made up his goddamn mind.

What do you want with me, Rikyn? Do you even know yourself? Move along now, I haven't got all day.

_________________________________________

Waiting for the rain I'm bracing for the thunder
A twig that wouldn't sway in the wind