Rhadra laughs at her companion’s blunt observation of her description of home. “Sometimes it was,” she agrees, still smiling. But it was nice to belong somewhere, and to be among others. Her eyes flicker to the trees loosely surrounding them as she documents all the horses she’s met here so far, never more than a pair at a time, and she wonders if the reason she hasn’t come across any herds yet is because there is no need for them here. That concept is very strange, and will take some dwelling on next time she is alone.
Her head tips curiously to one side as her full attention returns to the other mare. “Why did your adventures always end poorly? In all the stories told, adventures are... well, they sound fun,” she says with a quick chuckle. That was why she had left, after all. Seeking something new, something exciting, something different from the rut of routine. Rhadra has a hard time imagining her own adventure going awry. It’s had its bumps, but doesn’t all of life, regardless of whether or not one is within a herd or going it alone?
She nods thoughtfully as the other explains her family’s absence. There is still so much she doesn’t know about these islands, the Peak included, but within her sparks a desire to discover it all. Perhaps being born in proximity to greatness gives one the perception that such a feature is a little underwhelming— Rhadra herself has a hard time imagining why one would ever leave such a place, knowing that it is only a matter of time before she herself answers the call to return.
“Have you not spent much time near children? They’re wild things, unaware of the world’s derisions and disappointments. I find that mentality extremely freeing— they’re so innocent, so unworldly.” Again, she rolls her shoulder in a shrug, and lets her eyes wander casually away from the other. “I think there is great appeal in teaching such open minds about one’s own view of the world. One’s own beliefs and convictions and morals passed down to someone who carries their blood and their bones and will contribute to the legacy of the family. Someone who will always remember them.” Rhadra closes her eyes, but the face in her memory is, as ever, hazy and undefined. “I can only guess what drives others, but for me?” her eyes open and she looks frankly at Adelheid. “I never had a dam. I think it would be the greatest gift in the world to give my love to my children, and see to it that none of my bloodline ever grew up lonely or dismissed.” She speaks lightly, but there is real pain in her eyes. That is an ache Rhadra knows will never fade, an emptiness where a mother’s love should be, a fracturing through her whole self that she has grown accustomed to only because she has had no other choice. |