Rade stands silent beneath the mare's scrutiny, meeting her gaze evenly despite the guilt and grief that tighten his chest, weighing heavily on lungs that struggle to expand with each inhale. He does not smile at her mirthless humor, rolling his dust-flecked shoulders forward in an indifferent shrug. As if her words don't matter; as if they can't touch him, though they wound him more than he'd care to admit - Conquistador is only one among the many who were better off alone than in his presence. Neassa, Styrke, Cherish, Debonaire - how many of his family had become victims of his insatiable appetite?

A flicker of something like pain darts beneath the surface of Xina's cold, deep eyes, and Rade adds her name to the growing list with a pang of remorse. Like Styrke, she was not a member of his immediate, blood family - but Xina had been something like a mother to him when he had left the comfort of Neassa's side. Not with the same soft, yielding ways his mother had employed - Xina is kind, yes, but she is also hardened by her unsheltered life. The woman has courage and grit in measures many men cannot match, and had inspired the strength of his own core. Now Rade stands before her, having destroyed her life, speaking half-truths and outright lies so that she will take the colt - motivated as much by selfishness as selflessness. Certainly he could find - or force - any number of mares to care for the boy where he was headed. But he would sooner leave the burden of his father's memory with Xina, and spare himself the daily reminder of his unspeakable deed.

Still...it is not quite so easy, letting go of this one remaining piece of his father. Rade drops his head to rest his muzzle briefly on Conquistador's forehead, tousling the colt's ivory forelock with his teeth. The smaller palomino is unnerved by the close proximity of the unfriendly and unfamiliar mare, but too weak and weary to fight as Rade pushes him gently toward Xina with his shoulder. Smiling encouragingly at the boy as he takes a couple tentative steps closer to the bay roan, Rade allows his amber gaze to raise back up to hers, his eyes hardening again, their molten gold frozen solid by the figurative chill in the air.

“For now. But I will return for him...Xina.” Rade says stiffly, his pale tail lashing in agitation at her casual dismissal. He reins his temper in though, suppresses the desire to assert himself in a more physical manner. Xina wasn't the type to be intimidated by anyone; this strained impasse was the best he could hope for. And so he allows a half-smile to curl his lips upward, and responds to her vow, “I know that you will.”

The stallion turns to go, and then pauses abruptly to look back - not at Conquistador, but at Xina. There is no denying that he is indebted to the mare, and as the sea laps at his hooves, he feels compelled to give her something, however small, in return. Closure. “Debonaire will...not return,” the stallion says haltingly, as the breeze draws his hair across his face like a shroud. His words could be construed any way, but the finality in his voice is clear. “Better to move forward than to live one's life looking back.”

Stepping into the sea's embrace, Rade swims without a backward glance until the horizon consumes him.
stallion // mongrel // 15.1hh // 5 // palomino roan // reba
debonaire x neassa