i am a leaf on the wind

Ashamin is quickly becoming a familiar face in the Threshold, and Lyanna can’t say she’s entirely surprised when he joins their group. He seems like he’s trying to support her attempts to be nice, and though she could talk for herself, she doesn’t let his comment bother her. She’s pretty sure he means well, so that’s enough. He moves on as well, talking to her, apparently impressed with her very limited knowledge of healing and, more to the point, her willingness to help. Ah yes, she did have that, though it was somewhat selfish. It kept her busy, which kept her thoughts off her family. It was a whole lot easier just to be preoccupied.

“I don’t know much yet. Still learning,” she says, with a smile on her face. Hoenstly, she’s a little bit flattered to have just been (sort of) offered a home. It seems so strange to her that a near stranger might be interested in what she can offer. It probably shouldn’t seem odd – she did get offered two homes when she stood in the Threshold the first time (and she was offering a stranger a place to rest as well). But somehow, it does. Maybe because she’s been here long enough to feel somewhat settled, to actually be known for having a home. And here’s someone suggesting an alternative (again, sort of). Maybe it’s just being remembered and noticed at all that she still finds strange. She never expected to be anything but in the way in Helovia.

Though it seems she’s not always in the way. Sometimes, certainly. But less so than normal. It was a start, anyway.

She pulls her wandering thoughts back to the conversation at hand, listening as Ashamin continues to talk, showing his own scar in some manly show of solidarity or something. Lyanna, though she was trained to fight, has no scars worth talking about. A couple small ones here and there, certainly, but she was a Princess of course. Her job, once, had been to mate for alliances. Couldn’t very well have her covered in scars. So she simply listens, teal eyes flickering around the group, but paying particular attention to the wounded stallion, trying to make sure he doesn’t keel over and die while they all chit chat.

He hasn’t, she noticed, made any move toward the branch. Not that she’s surprised, given his general attitude toward everything. A very fuck all, might as well die kind of attitude. Which she doesn’t get. What’s the point in being that miserable? Her family was murdered and she fled her only home in exile. Returning meant her death. And yet here she is, helping some miserable ass who, as he admits, doesn’t actually deserve it.

“Kindness isn’t always given to those who deserve it. It’s simply given by those strong enough to offer it. You can accept it or not, as you will, but it’s your loss not to.” Her voice is still soft, though perhaps with a hint of an edge to it. Corbin had tempered her temper over the few years she’d have with her brother (again, Princesses cannot get mad, and old habits die hard). “The World’s Edge is not terribly far, but neither is it next door. I don’t know where Ashamin’s healers are. But I can offer you skilled healers, and you won’t even be expected to stay, if you decide the Edge just isn't to your liking.”

Maybe kindness is wasted on those that don’t deserve it. Maybe it should be reserved, given in small little doses. But she can’t really imagine living like that. She knows no other way to be but kind, in the face of whatever she might come across. Even the nameless stallion with the sharp tongue and the gash in his side.

watch how i soar.

lyanna