Meadow

Rivaini

Rivaini stood silent and unmoving, letting the black mare speak her pieces. But the inertia that she'd previously embraced was not maintained without a great effort on her part; dark legs longed to fly the mare to her brother, blue eyes longed to fill themselves with every familiar detail of his pale figure. Though she had no cause to doubt this stranger any longer, Rivaini could not truly allow herself to believe that her brother was whole and alive until she'd seen it for herself. After all, her mind had spent a matter of days dwelling on images of its own creation - Iscariot's head dipping beneath the waves, his body washing up on the distant shore of her once-home - that these fabricated truths had become more tangible than reality.

But first, there was the matter of her dark companion to settle. As Faolain spoke of the whims that had led her to help the silver bay's brother, a frown tugged the corners of her lips downward again. It wasn't grief or ire that transformed them but confusion; Rivaini had never heard of someone helping another simply because they could. And yet the 'Teke's words had the ring of truth to them, even with the pieces of the puzzle that were still unaccounted for. If anything, her strange answer only confirmed that it was an honest one - because certainly anyone looking to tell Rivaini what she wanted to hear would claim some sort of compassion for the broken thing that her brother was, some bleeding heart that sought to protect him as her own did.

And she certainly couldn't fault this stranger for not feeling that way; not having the same motivations in striving to protect Iscariot. Rivaini had long since accepted that she was the only one who loved the pale stallion - was, perhaps, the only one who ever would. It was enough to know that Faolain's perplexing actions had been made with good intent. "And me?" The russet mare began reluctantly, finding that her tongue had turned gelid in her mouth. It was time to return to the only piece of home that remained to her - but the idea of it was suddenly frightening. "You hardly know me beyond being Iscariot's sister. I don't know you - not even so much as your name. I even lied to you back there, to test whether your own words were true."

It felt both better and worse to come clean to the slender black mare, to admit that the pain Rivaini may have inflicted with her words had been for little purpose. "And yet I suspect you would lead me to Iscariot, if I asked. And perhaps even if I did not." Her tone was touched by dry humor at these final words, and a wry smile curved her lips upwards. It was no secret that for an outsider with no apparent emotional investment, Faolain had been stubbornly persistent. It was a quality that Rivaini could admire, and one that she herself reflected. But now it was time to surrender that determined piece of herself, to place her trust in a stranger - a first, though hardly the first time she had put aside her instincts for Iscariot's sake.

"Very well, then - if you lead the way, I will follow."

mare / five / silver bay tobiano / andalusian mix / 15.3hh