Conflicting emotions raced through the young filly as she listened to the demi-god. On one hand she could understand, with her head at least, how the past events had been no fault of Mesec's. Everything about him, from his pleading tone to the sensible words he spoke, screamed of regret and pleaded forgiveness, asked her to relent and hand him what he wished for. A part of her did indeed ease up as he explained how the beastly form had been a curse, that he had not been in control, and as she heard it Erthë felt her insides squirm with embarrassment. How much of a fool was she, to think that anyone would act like that without cause?! Everything she had said to Roskuld about him suddenly sounded childish, ignorant, petulant even. As though she was nothing but a child with a fix idea that every monster was real just because she had dreamed of it once.

But, on the other hand... The part of her that had clung to this dislike, this fear would not relent so easily. It was the immature side of her, the foal within, the jealous and haughty part that merely bristled at the King's reprimand and turned her gaze away as the black tribrid disclosed his parentage.

It did not help him in Erthë's eyes, that he should be so closely related to the Goddess. Not because she feared or hated the Moon, no it was the opposite. How dared he flaunt his ties to the Lady Erthë had worked so hard to approach? Did he enjoy flinging it in her face, as though to shove down her throat what she already knew; that he possessed what she would never gain in the same way, that he held the love and approval she herself might never gain?

Turning her face away the girl stood rigid, tense silence stretching out as she struggled to hold her tongue. That Tembovu was there to hear everything she might say helped, she had disgraced herself enough in front of him lately and she really did not want to make it worse. But how could he, and why did it have to look so much like... like a wolf?

Finding that she could postpone an answer, any answer, for much longer Erthë nodded. A mere stiff inclination of the head that surely looked as painfully humiliating as it felt, but at least she gave a sign that she had heard and accepted the story.

Forgiveness however... She just didn't know if she had it in her to forgive him for being who he was. It was unfair and terrible and it made her ashamed to even admit it, but though she really did try to banish the black tangle of dislike... it just wouldn't go away.

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