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12-26-2012, 08:02 PM
- Tor has guided him, as she offered. He seems kind and cordial and polite, everything she believes the Edge to value. At least, she hopes the Edge does not mind her bringing such a stallion with her. It would, to say the least, be so embarrassing if she was not welcome. But the draft considered to be at good odds with the Qian; she knew Lace, no matter how awkward their relationship might be at this point; Torasin, the healer; and Mirage, who Tor had offered help to whenever she should wish it.
- The draft shakes out her creamy mane. It is still startling, her appearance now- she had nearly fully grayed out to white. She had known, as a child, she have been painted with black and white, but still... it seemed funny to view herself as a white mare. White was so... angelic. Pure. Lately, Tor didn't feel she had been doing anything angelic or pure. Hallucinating. Getting only what she can describe as crazy. Failing her mission to save Mirage. Declaring love for Phaedra. Healing Thayne. No- healing was something kind.
- She waits in silence, knowing soon someone will arrive, and indeed a horse comes, a stallion who seems to... shine like some sort of black liquid. Ink she has never heard of, and she watches, fascinated, as he paints images in this black liquid. The healer does not speak nor interrupt- it is up to this stallion who smells of Edge to decide whether or not he will take in Kaj. It isn't her business anymore. In fact, she should leave, but she is entranced by Ink.
- Finally she pulls herself away, dips her head in farewell. "Good luck, the two of you. I should be on my way." And so the draft slips away, her pale coat retreating from the Edge, the place where Lace lives.
WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.
