the laughter of the stranger is oddly soothing, freeing in a way, and lukasz lets his features turn upward into a subtle but good-natured smile, not wanting to give the spotted stud the impression that he was averse to the company. his broad black ears tilt curiously toward the lilt of the stallion’s voice, paying great attention so as to make sense of the accent. he is relieved then, to know that he wasn’t the only one around that didn’t have much for company these days. it is a companionable silence that spans between them for a moment, each partaking in the rich meadow grass, and lukasz is nearly about to work up the courage to ask what had set the stranger at such a pace when he is stopped. his ambling motion forward is halted with the statement and he lifts his broad head slightly to hear more clearly. the second with a profile such as his? someone of the krev perhaps had survived after all? lukasz shrugs off the possibility, mumbling a half-hearted ”hmm” and lowering his head to snatch at the grass once more tensely. thinking of the vlast always set him on edge. now he was likely to be even worse company than he had promised…his dark eyes glance sideways, catching the stranger looking at him again more closely and lukasz begins to feel a strange anxiety take hold. the stallion speaks, as lighthearted as a song, and lukasz feels his heart stops beating. as it always does when he is surprised, the kladruby’s dark head jerks up, to the eye level of the stranger at least. his features twist stupidly into a befuddled stare as he tries to process. ”what?” he stammers, even as he makes sense of the words. it is like a dream-state, where the world turns in slow motion as lukasz stares on, following the gaze of the spotted stranger. his confusion could be mistaken for something other than disbelief likely but he doesn’t have the presence of mind to explain his stammering. part of him wants to block out what he has heard, to pretend it did not pass his ears because he cannot understand it to be true and therefor cannot accept it. his tongue sits thick in his mouth and he shakes his head no, at the mention of the lagoon nor of their crimes. he had been living on the isles for some time now but he had kept to himself, quiet on the isle of salem. he scrutinizes the soft brown-black figure before him, wondering if he has imagined the whole conversation, a product of his depression… but there is dirt on the stallions legs, a warm light in his eye, and a strange lilt to his speech. would he have imagined all of that? ”i… i haven’t heard of them. but you mentioned someone. someone who I may have heard of…” he doesn’t dare say her name, though he knows the stranger will and he braces for it. perhaps if it was spoken again, he could believe it this time.
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