for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
In spite of herself Kensa is drawn to Amet. She almost wants this to be hard, for the road to friendship to be rocky and full of the kind of duplicity and insincere pleasantry that she has started to expect from strangers (and sometimes from friends)... but it isn’t there. They are more alike than she’d thought they would be, his genuine manner and openness disarms her so that she is left looking at the dragon-scaled Primarch as if she has just learned to see for the first time.
Amet smiles easily, as easily as she once had and the older stallion gives her the briefest highlights on a life that she is certain has been full of joys and hurts more numerous than those that have occurred in hers--those that have conspired to cripple her over and over. She wants to ask, to know if she has been wrong to gnash her teeth and build walls around her heart. Or if that was alright, natural, a thing to succumb to and grow from. That grief is not something you ever learn to resist.
“I cannot wait to meet her. It will be good to have more grown women in Hyaline.” And she means this, her daughters are very good company but Kensa would be happy to have more female friends and she is inclined to be positive about this Jah-Lilah. It surprises Kensa that he volunteers to her that he hopes to take the mare as his lover. It puts her in mind of her relationship with Clayton, thoughts that collide with an uncomfortable jolt as Amet segues into asking her about Litotes.
It is hard not to close herself off when that is how Amet begins to ask her about herself. The way her gold trimmed ears drop back into the tangle of her flaxen mane is involuntary and her ochre eyes apologize almost instantly. “I…yes. We are, were together.” Her break with Litotes still doesn’t feel quite real, the loss of him confused by so many things. It was love, not just companionship and sex, but her first experience in that kind of love. It’s too soon to present the details to Amet. She pushes past it, for now, relaxing herself as she finds a way to change the subject. “We have three children. Astarielle is the eldest, and then Crynn and Brunhilde were born last spring.” She does not differentiate between who is adopted and who she brought forth herself. “I spent the later part of my early here in Hyaline, I can’t wait to see it full of children again.” There is a brightness in this words that is real and yet fractured, an unreleased sob sitting solidly in her chest like cold lead.
@[Amet]
