Common

The chase has his blood up; usually, if Rafe is running after a mare it isn’t for a reason like this. The only time he’s chased one down recently has been as he took off after Enya, and that had ended bloody. So it takes effort to rein himself in, to not push forward into Sabriel’s space and set teeth to skin. He’s been so good, made progress with her in a way he hasn’t with any of his other mares, and he cannot ruin that. Especially not with a mare like Sabriel - she seems flighty, hiding from whatever went wrong; he has no reason to believe she wouldn’t do the same thing if he were to push it. He offers her a smile when she turns, silvery hair tossed back over her shoulder. When she denies that there is peace, states that it won’t be for her, it gives him pause.

What has this mare done, that she feels is so irredeemable? He can’t imagine what could possibly be in her past that makes her so certain she doesn’t deserve spending the rest of her years content. He stands before her, a murderer, holding more than one mare hostage in the wastes of the Badlands, and Rafe loses no sleep. The ends justify the means, and he has always lived by that rule- Rafe imagines that when he dies, it will be by that as well. So he’s imminently curious about what Sabriel could possibly hate herself for; he wants to ask, but knows a little mystery is well deserved so doesn’t press her further. After all, he’s yet to share with anyone here just why he was banished, just how he came to be on these islands. Sabriel’s voice goes tight with tears, and Rafe glances away, blue eyes slipping across the desolate meadow around them. He’s never been good with crying, uncertain of just how to comfort her; his usual approach to tears is to poke at the wound, draw out more frustrated crying. If it were his mother or one of his sisters, he would hurt whoever it was that made them cry. But here? When all that has brought her harm is the ghost of the past? There’s little he can do He extends his muzzle to her again, huffing out a warm breath that freezes into a cloud of steam as soon as it is released. Finally, he speaks, not having the heart to tease her when she seems so clearly upset. “Let me help you find it,” Rafe murmurs lowly. “I’ve made an art of living with my past; I can show you how to do the same”