her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love

LENA

Life has a way of making everyone a fool. Hé rolls this around in his head now as he walks. When last he ventured into the forest, he had done so with vigor, excited merely to feel sun on his back and flowers under his feet and everything alive and blooming in the world. Had he been naive? Is he still, as he ventures back? A nagging doubt lurks in the back of his mind, and he isn't sure if he ought to call it wisdom or cowardice. So he lets it hang there, uncharacteristically, and wonders if it needs to be dismissed or acknowledged. One thing Hé does know, with the surety of one who used to be worldly and is now a sheltered creature, easily surprised and confused by the vastness of this new place named Helovia: he needs to get out more.

The freckled stallion's choppy stride carries him between the trees at a leisurely pace. He was never a creature made for speed; anyway, it's difficult to enjoy the sights at a dead gallop, and Hé didn't get enough of the color in this place the first time. He hums just under his breath as he goes, pausing every now and then to examine, with all the interest of a collector, the new flower here, the strange, bright insect there. His course is meandering and unworried, though one small ear cocks always toward the outside world, vigilant in a way the prince never was before, when last he danced through the world without care, vibrant and eager to devour it all. It's no accident when he catches the snippet of a conversation farther down the path.

Curiosity wriggles in his breast. Pulling away from a cluster of pale mushrooms nestled between the roots of the nearest tree, he swings his blunt head toward the sound. A soft voice, a sweet voice, almost singsong in nature — Hé's other ear sweeps up to match its brother. One thing he knows about the forest he now traverses: it ensnares the lucky and unlucky alike, preparing to draw them further in. Whether that's good or bad for the newcomers, Hé hasn't yet decided, but he considers himself a worthy representative of the relative stranger's interests. He is, himself, new after all. He understands what it's like to be a stranger to this place, and confronted with whoever might be patrolling the forest in search of fresh blood.

Now it's Hé patrolling. He isn't particularly keen on changing anybody's mind, but he is curious about what goes on up ahead. His walk flows seamlessly into a light, lateral gait, his tail flags just a bit, and he paces down the path until he glimpses the tail end of one mare and the face end of another. Now he slows, his gait crumbling slowly into a walk (physical precision never a personal strength). "Hello!" The stallion's voice is bright before him, a chiming bell amidst the constant shadows and curtains of light. He moves up to stand near the brown mare, though not too near, his dark eyes flicking in an interested and hopefully not particularly intrusive way over the prominent spear jutting from her brow. Hé possesses enough of courtesy still to keep from staring, but everyone in Helovia is interesting in a way he isn't used to. Truth be told, he could stare all day. Warding off the urge, he tilts his head in the smaller mare's direction. She's a very vibrant shade of red, nicely contrasted to the duller shadows at her back. "Nice day to be out, isn't it? I was just taking a walk, myself. There's always so much to see here."

her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love

LENA

A pang of — something — guilt? — streaks through Hé's spotted guts when he bothers to take real measure of the mare's posture. She stands like a servant. No; she stands lower than a servant, her eyes downcast as if she dares not address even his knees or the horned mare's. Is it fear of retribution keeping her eyes down, shuffling her posture ever so slightly away from him? He can't have imagined it, that small step, the rustling of dead needles underfoot — could he? Hé has never been an intimidating fellow; he never practiced on the battlefield, preferring instead the softer arts of just about anything else. Now his curiosity over the horned mare has ebbed, Hé studies the chestnut with gentle curiosity, sympathy moving in his chest as he debates stepping back, or even leaving entirely, if he makes her so uncomfortable. Though maybe it's a social anxiety, and not a Hé-related one? Supposition leaves only to guesswork, which is useless in the long run. He chews absently on his tongue as he takes in her very soft-spoken response. There's little feeling in it. He feels a little bad now, having spoken at all.

It's the horned mare — Lena — who speaks again, though Bellisma's name comes on the heels of that. Hé nods. "Please call me Hé," he says pleasantly. "I'm glad I've the honor of learning both your names. I am a newcomer to Helovia myself; it's a pleasure to meet an ambassador from a herd still unknown to me." He explains this both for Lena's benefit and for Bellisma's, though he turns only the barest glance at the chestnut, wary of pressuring her with too much attention. Turning his head in her direction but smiling, carefully, at her down-turned face, he adds, "It's a welcoming place, I hope you'll find. I have been taken in by a very wise soul called Ashamin. He leads a group he calls the Unbound. They travel, like scholars of the world. But they care for each other." Is it an invitation? Would that be crass? Hé isn't sure. He feels a bit frustrated with himself, that he should be so unable to make her comfortable. "Have you come to Helovia in search of anything, in particular?" he dares ask, his head tilting just a fraction. It's somewhat an echo of Lena's question, though perhaps a bit more precise. I would like to help, he thinks. If I can.

her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love

LENA

A moment of surprise opens dark eyes a fraction wider than they normally are, as Lena responds first to the little speech about the Unbound. And Hé glances at her, questions brimming on his tongue but only just swallowed down, to be digested and ruminated on much later. His eyes resting upon her horn once more, the prince (though he ought to stop thinking of himself that way) reflects that maybe he shouldn't be surprised the two know each other. How, and why, and why her voice carries the gentle weight of familiar sorrow — things to be learned later. "I will," he says dutifully, the cheer never leaving his voice, though dampened somewhat by thin threads of curiosity. Then Bellisma speaks, though, and both short ears as well as full attention snaps back to her.

Oh, Hé brightens when that shy voice echoes his own word back at him. It's interest, and that's a victory, and even her eyes lift just a shade higher than before. He wants to move, to wheel in a circle and kick up his heels, and objectively it's a little pathetic such a small victory should thrill him so, but it's been so long since he played diplomat, since he did anything of his own volition. Hé allows himself the pride. Beaming, every bit as bright as the sunlight filtering in from overhead, the spotted stallion nods — a quick, emphatic gesture. "Yes!" he responds happily. "Unbound by law or by the will of a single leader. It was a strange thing for me to wrap my head around, at first, but I'm adjusting. There is no better way to see this land than to learn it from those who dedicate their lives to learning." This Hé tries to impress upon himself, as well. He still isn't sure how much he believes it, but he's happy to exist this way at present. In response to her second question, he tilts back one ear, thought reflecting in his eyes. "No... not all land belongs to someone. It would be rude to trespass, but we don't have any reason to do that. Helovia's very large," Hé adds, because the true breadth of the place is dizzying, almost unimaginable.

Falling silent as the conversation passes momentarily from him, Hé listens to the mares speak. It's odd, he reflects, how both seem very soft, like they ought to be well suited to friendship, but how their words bounce off each other at just the wrong angle and the end up like.... this. He wonders if he ought to say something, himself, but Lena's skilled at letting the conversation flow around her mild displeasure. "It's an interesting place," Hé does agree aloud, if only because he can't stop himself from speaking for very long, at least not while there are ears to hear. "Never know who you'll meet, though sometimes you get lucky." He means this kindly toward Bellisma, and toward Lena as well, for he finds he likes them, just as he liked Ashamin and Lyanna before. In truth, it's rare Hé finds anyone so insufferable as to be disliked upon first meeting. But he's keen to talk more of the Unbound, too, and of Ashamin, who after all made a good enough impression to catch Hé up in his ideas. It would be nice, Hé thinks, if he could swell their ranks further. If he could learn the color of the chestnut mare's eyes.

her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love

LENA

Lovely, what a word. "It is!" Hé agrees. Satisfaction with the faint praise buoys him up at least an inch taller than before. "You would be welcome to join us," he dares add now, confident the invitation will feel less an intrusion than it might have earlier. "And welcome to leave if you found us wanting." Or that is the hope; whether Ashamin's ambitions succeed or crumble to ruin remains to be seen. Hé is an optimistic little creature, so he chooses to operate with the assumption of success. If he does plan for catastrophe just in case — well, he can hardly be blamed. That's all in the future, anyway; now is here, with the two mares. Now is the faint buzz of competition rattling just under civility, the certainty that even liking Lena does not preclude Hé from wanting to best her. To impress Ashamin. To be known, however dangerous.

Falling silent, the spotted boy observes again. Standing still for so long wears on his nerves, but he dares not go bouncing off at such a time, and so he practices self discipline again. Listening to Lena and Bellisma talk to each other is almost painful now; it's almost like they're speaking different languages, and each is only partially fluent in the one best known to the other. Hé keeps his expression neutral, though he wants to wince. Lena's words are at least interesting, as she struggles valiantly to point the conversation in.... some direction. Maybe a productive one. Much as Hé would prefer to take Bellisma with him, to introduce her to Ashamin and the bucks and (maybe one at a time) to all the others he barely knows, he feels a certain degree of cringing embarrassment at the lack of flow to all of this. Conversations flowing like music are better; conversations moving like dances are the best, where everyone participates and it's all bright and there's something to think on. Hé takes a moment to shake off an intrusive insect buzzing around his ears.

When he looks back up, he's surprised to catch Bellisma's eye, however briefly. How long had she been looking at him? Just an instant, or —? A confident smile answers her, though she ducks too quickly, and Hé is left looking, bemused but still a little fond. Silent for a moment, he thinks, green. "It's like Lena says," he adds afterward, his voice a little softer, "The decision is yours. You can wait on it if you like, and strike out on your own. Sort of boring, that way." Hé doesn't add, dangerous, too, though he thinks it, his thoughts jumping briefly to dark places and the rustling of feathers. Safety in numbers — or at least in having someone to worry after you. Preferably someone important only to oneself.

Hé waits as patiently as his body can for Bellisma's response. His thoughts he rivets to the moment, though they threaten to scatter, dancing in all directions. Already he thinks of where he intends to travel after this, and who he might see, and if any of the Unbound would be agreeable to speaking with him privately. And would they approve of Bellisma, her subservience and quiet words? He cannot fathom aligning himself with a group prone to throwing her out; he thinks, if they did, he would be obligated to exile alongside her. So her voice, her actual response, shakes him from the purely hypothetical with a bit of surprise.

"Ah!" The next moment his head bobs, and he's alive again with motion. It slicks, kinetic, from his poll to his tail — maybe a trick of those freckles, maybe just a reflection of the mind spinning behind his dark eyes. And he smiles, when she dares to meet his eyes again. Really smiles: ears up and eye soft, head lowering just a degree. "Of course," he says, and he reminds himself not to shout but to speak gently. "I don't ever offer invitations without sincerity." Why he would even think of such a thing is beyond Hé. Isn't he here to find more souls for the Unbound? Or is it she thinks herself so terribly unworthy as to be wasting his time and Lena's? Hé rarely feels pity, but something akin to that moves in his chest as his eyes pass once more across Bellisma's face. He almost worries to turn her loose on the world, but he fears the concern would be insulting if she ever learned of it. "I'll take you to meet the rest of the Unbound, if you like," is all he says. And though he hardly knows them (even Ashamin), he's eager to be going.

For the last time today, he turns to Lena. "It was a pleasure, Lena. Fare well back to the Aurora Basin." Another small incline of the head, a silent reminder to inform Ashamin of her acknowledgements. Then as Hé turns away, a glance at Bellisma. He almost fears she will not follow unless directly asked. "This way to the edge of the forest. We're headed to a place south.... south..west of here." Small ears twist as he gathers his bearings, and Hé steps back over the roots the way he came, his steps light, his stride short but undeniably bouncy. "It's a long walk. I can answer any more questions you might have while we travel."

her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love

LENA