The grullo mare can't quite tell the difference between them, the blue-eyed stallion and the silver-eyed one. Without time together to devote to differentiating them (or the willingness to simply ask), Djinni has remained in the dark. There are some things she knows - things she remembers despite every effort otherwise.
Djinni knows that asking him what he wants never ends the way she intends it to; neither does trying to guess. Somehow she has guessed incorrectly every time, a remarkable streak of of failures on an otherwise flawless record.
Djinni also knows that going to the water is a bad decision.
Still, she has tried asking, tried guessing. Maybe this time she'll try something new.
She obeys.
The water that is suddenly around them is colder than she'd expected. The autumn air had been warm, even in the dampness of Stillwater's cave, and the moonlit pool is a shock to her system. Her hair stands on end reflexively for only an instant before it disappears entirely: sleek skin and blubber a more effective insulation against the cold.
That's another thing she knows about him: being more like a water creature is not the safest choice.
She'd not forgotten that, but safety is also not a primary concern at the moment. He'd tasted her tears, that much she is sure of. The reason behind them she suspects is not as clear, but he hadn't asked her to explain. He'd only asked that she take them to the water, and she'd done so.
Waiting for the next command would be the wisest choice, but she'd already sparked the kindling and isn't willing to let the coldness return so quickly, as selfish as it may be. As stupid as it might be.
She'd leaned into his kisses, shivered as he moves down her neck. There is a hollow beneath the curve of his own, one she'd eyed longingly the very moment their son came into existence. She takes it now, nearly two years late, and presses her soft grey side to the black stallion's chest, turning up her head to rest it for a moment against his shoulder. She can hear his heartbeat, hear that it is slower than her own. Somewhere, perhaps on this shoulder or the other, she had sunk her teeth into his flesh, raking him in some poorly-executed attempt at a claim.
Foolish to have even tried. She won't again, especially not with this most recent rebuff, but she'd rather burn for as long as she can manage. He doesn't seem to be rejecting her body, after all, just her emotions.
Djinni presses a cool kiss to his withers, another to his black barrel as she moves through the chest-deep water. Lower, soft caresses with her dark mouth until she's tasting water, and then she slips lower still, diving beneath him only to rise just as closely on the other side, a delightful shiver accompanying the momentary warmth of his body pressed along her back. The black water slides from her sleek grey skin, beading in her dark mane. Her hooves scrape now and again at the bottom of the lake, but she is floating more than trying to stand, and she bobs against him without a word, reaching out to tug at his hair, pulling him into deeper water, pulling him closer to her.