Meadow

"You know," the black stallion said placidly as he pulled away from the prone mare, his lips smeared with a greenish paste, "It would be far easier for me to care for you if you didn't insist on wandering around the Crossing." He frowned for a moment, his golden eyes kind beneath a furrowed brow. "The Peak isn't that bad."

For Svetka, who had never possessed a desire to reside among the dangerous clifftops and austere surroundings of the woman-only Peak, his admonisment meant nothing. In fact, it spawned an eye roll so dedicated that it nearly completed an entire circuit as she mimed his final comment soundlessly.

"Yeah, I'm sure falling from a mountain would do wonders for my body. Who knows, hypoxia might cure my narcolepsy for good." Despite their snarkiness, her words are not entirely hateful. As much as Svetka resents the need for anyone's attention, she knows that Geçersiz means no ill-will. He seems to have a sixth sense for when an attack has come on, and while she hates that she needs him, she is grateful he is there.

He hummed quietly and backed away to give her space. Apart from the small abrasion on her temple, she'd escaped relatively unscathed this time. They had met by chance and had never ultimately spoken much, so she knew little of the mysterious black shadow with his potions and poultices. Likewise, he remained in the dark about Svetka's past, but she reminded him of Ashteroth in many ways. Not only in appearance, but in her fierce spirit and sass. Time and the weight of duty had reshaped Ashteroth in some ways, but he still remembered the way she'd bossed him around like a dog in the early days.

The conversation they were having now - surface level though it was - was one they'd had many times before. He'd find her, patch her up and lecture her about returning to the Peak where he could watch over her. She'd protest, make a comment about the mountains and he'd refute her claim by pointing out there were plenty of lowlands for her to reside in.

"Can we just... not." Svetka said softly, her voice small compared to her normal bravado. The Akhal-Teke said nothing, only kept doing what he was doing, removing the small bits of his craft and cleaning the smear from his muzzle. "I just... I don't want to live with a bunch of bitter old mares that hate men." Taking his silence as permission to vent, Svetka continued on. "My dad always said that the Peak had great intentions but terrible execution, and in the end, that they weren't any better than the Lagoon."

At this, Gecko's eyebrows raised, but he did not contradict her. "I always thought that I would find someone that wanted me... despite, you know, who I am." She thought of Floki and Omen and even Voyager. None of them had stuck around for more than a moment. Most by choice, some by machinations bigger than themselves. Svetka huffed a soft, bitter laugh. "Foolish, I know. I just... I don't know. I thought I'd have some kind of life by now. That at least someone would take me to their home, even if it was just to forget about me in the background."

Gecko offered no empty words of comfort. The trajectory of his own life had followed no set protocols or direction. If he had done as his father might have wished so very long ago, he would have likely ended up claiming the Dunes on Salem and leading a herd of his own. Such matters had never really interested him, and so he remained a companion of the Peak's new Prime Minister and was happier for it.

"It's alright," she said after a moment. "You can go." Despite his lack of response, Svetka felt strangely lighter for having voiced her thoughts. With a nod, the stallion went to turn away and then paused to murmur under his breath. "Just because it hasn't happened yet, doesn't mean it never will."

With that, he made his way back to the Peak, leaving Svetka alone in the Meadow. For many long minutes she remained prone, sorting through her thoughts and emotions before rising on her hooves and shaking off the detritus from where she'd fallen. As was normal for her, she didn't exactly remember what had happened that had caused the sleep attack, but odds were it was nothing more than something unexpected like a fly buzzing too close to her ear or a bee stinging her rump.

Sighing softly, Svetka turned her gaze upward and scanned the horizon, wondering if anyone else even frequented the Meadow anymore.