Rhaella listens intently as he speaks. Her green eyes are cast downwards, unconsciously tracing each individual grain of sand as she tries to imagine the place Badr had come from. The way he speaks, she gathers that he had not been raised on the islands, and this she can relate to. But the violence he speaks of is a foreign concept to her, and her neutral expression is soon creasing slightly with barely-concealed distaste.

Her own people had been completely pacifistic. Pairings for the intensive purpose of breeding had always been agreed upon by both families beforehand in an objective, diplomatic manner. Any tense situation was always resolved with touching and caressing - not of the sexual kind, mind you, simply the sort to instil calmness and understanding. One cannot endure being angry with another when one is so physically close to them.

It doesn't escape her that Badr is being vague about the exact events that had transpired on the day he'd earned his blemish. He has not said whether it was he who incited the violence, or his rival. Perhaps he is ashamed of it. His next words, in which she catches the use of 'barbaric', ease her suspicions some, and when she regards the stallion before her again, it's with a small shred of approval. Rhaella has always found it hard to conceal her distrust of violent individuals, but she can, at least, find it in herself to forgive them of their errors if they show some morsel of regret.

"Violence is never a solution," she states calmly and confidently, "but I'm sorry for what you went through." Averting her eyes for a few moments in which there is only the sound of insects buzzing all around them, Rhaella thinks of the mare he had mentioned, the mother of his first child. She wants to ask what happened to her, whether Badr had defended her honor successfully or not, but after thinking about it for another few moments, she believes she knows the answer.

He is so different to Aleksei, Rhaella thinks. Just remembering her bunhil, with his crippled leg, thick black fur and kind, hopeful smile, makes her heart ache and makes the heat of the dunes seem positively stifling. But she will not tell Badr about him. Not yet. "Tell me more about your life," she asks of the stallion softly while lowering her head to rub her nose on her white-splashed knee.