[private] take a look in the mirror

[Tarian]

There is a flicker of amusement shining in the depth of his blue eyes. Once upon a time, Tarian might have agreed with that statement. Honor was found in keeping one's word and found in the steadfast actions for the things that couldn't be said. Honor was keeping integrity and then fighting for it when it became lost. He'd been groomed for it in another life but that's all a pale echo now, a past that Tarian finds growing more distant each time that he stands next to the blaze that he considers Altissima to be.

"I'm sure some went for the promise of Magic," the Loessian Champion finally says, speaking of the prize that came from the Mountain itself.  His mouth curls slightly with the quiet humor that lingers in his gaze, wondering if the pale mare even considered Tarian's reason for participating (and some part of him wanting her to consider his character; wanting Wildling to know him well enough that it hadn't been the promise of Magic that enticed him onto the battlefield).

But then she is so close, a touch barely more tangible than the light she wields grazing his hip. Idiot, she calls him and Tarian would agree with her if he could - if his head wasn't filling with other thoughts. Altissima becomes absorbed in her skill and for a moment, the silver stallion just watches; absorbed in the way that the light moved and shifted around her; fascinated by the way it obeyed and then startled as it started to converge around his injured limb. There is a warmth against his skin but he isn't sure if that is because of her magic or simply her proximity.

Winds.

"It's not worse," Tarian tells her. In truth, the pegasus can't tell if there is any difference in the leg. He still stands with it half-cocked, his weight leaning towards the opposing hip though his white wings have come back to their natural position against his sterling sides. Instinct wants him to test out the limb and yet Tarian refrains out of pride, not willing to appear as the cripple in front of Wilding.

And yet, something more in him doesn't want her to bear the weight of disappointment that he feels setting like the sunlight around them.

Tarian knows that he won't be going anywhere, anytime soon. He'll rest the leg, eventually taking baby steps until he can hobble his way back to Loess (where Cheri can hopefully heal it). The gray stallion knows that he should excuse Altissima (or at least make an excuse for her to leave), but the Loessian finds himself asking the always Wandering Wildling instead, "Where did you pick this trick up?"