No. The answer came faster this time, plunking down in the space between them as if it had physical weight, and he let it rest, let the snow and the ripples settle as she contemplated what she would say next. Suleiman didn't push her; he knew the sound of heartbreak when he heard it and had no desire to go poking into things she wasn't ready to talk about. They were strangers to each other, after all.
To his surprise, she broke the silence next, offering up her story piecemeal, as though each word cost her a fortune to share. He listened quietly, offering no comment as she described the horrible scene she'd been privy to, and his heart broke on her behalf. Her story was different from Mariael's, but the same sorrow lingered in her aspect.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, and meant it. Not as an apology from himself - he'd not harmed her or her kin - but a commiseration, an extension of empathy. Suleiman had not experienced the loss of a parent, for which he was mightily grateful, but he had seen death, and had no wish to look upon it's ugly face again. He did not know if it was better or worse to see one's parent as the harbinger of death, rather than the victim. If there was any sort of scale that might encompass both magnitudes.
His tail flicked, giving movement to the storm of emotions in his chest, but he let the silence fall between them for a moment. It felt as though there were things that still weighed on her, things that needed to be said that would not emerge if he were to try and coddle her with a tale of his own woes. Somehow, he didn't think that knowing someone else had seen and suffered death would ease the pain she felt now. Instead, he let his gaze find the gleam of her eyes in the lightening dark, and offered an option. "Would telling me about him help?"
There was no judgment in his tone. The same way that the had offered Mariael the peace and space to tell him of the awful thing that had happened to her, he now extended the same to this mare. Sometimes the poison grew inside until it was too caustic, eating through one's entire self. He didn't know this mare, had no obligation to her, but a part of him wished it were otherwise. Wished they were familiar enough that he could provide his shoulder for support instead of just his words.
He refrained. He'd sensed the wariness earlier, and did not wish to make her uncomfortable. Instead, he prompted gently again, opening the door. "I can listen."
Stallion . Young Adult . 17hh . Pinto . arch lead. solomon x banshee . love