[an TAH rez]
✬ sayyida ✬
▻ jyeshtha ♀ (x indira), aminah ♀ | nashira ♀ ◅
He has seen the difference in Sakhmet of course, but he had also been different since the trauma of losing so much. He was barely holding on, himself, so it felt wrong that he should doubt another’s reformation… but he could not fathom the spirit of the Lioness herself being doused. Sekhmet was the fury of sandstorms given life. He does not show his skepticism on his face, he had more tact and awareness than that, but he does sigh a little. It was hard enough to try and revive his own spirit - much less dragging it out of someone who didn’t want to help themselves.
He simply didn’t have enough emotional landscape to add to the overpopulatedness of his mind. She had to want it herself. "I believe Atair seeks what is no longer there. What was once fire, is only ash." He shakes his head at that, "I have no verdict to give you."
"I have spoken to him and the only things that he seeks is your friendship with Eness to rekindle and give her back some joy and to have someone able to fight to help him protecting his household. His sons are growing but …." He chuckles, shaking his head in humor this time. "He prays one day the gods give him a daughter to soften the heart of his Wife to him. Her avoiding him, though, has left her lonely because he has no Household other than her and the children - two of which will be leaving."
The seashell pink stallion tosses his red forelock out of his face and smiles witheringly at the resistant mare. "You know I will make you do nothing - but it seems a shame that you be named for our Patron Goddess and douse the fiery potential of your spirit over things over and gone and no longer in your present." He turns, his job and usefulness here completed.
"Even if you want nothing else, perhaps becoming family with the woman you spent so long loving and caring for wouldn't be a bad place to start..." And then he and his meddling thoughts were off back towards his oasis.
OF SALEM’S EASTERN DUNES
▻ eleven years - arabian - mulberry gray with bloodmarks - 15.2 hh ◅