She will not acknowledge that she is glad when he follows her to the water, will especially not acknowledge that she hoped he would. But maybe she doesn’t need to say so in words, maybe it is enough that she takes one single step towards him to brush her nose against the hollow by his shoulder. She is unsurprised by the stink of salt and brine, but she hadn’t noticed the scales yet and pushes his mane aside as she pulls back to see more. She can feel the soft furrow appear in her brow an instant before she recognizes the faint guardedness that seems to come hand in hand with confusion so often lately.
She doesn’t reach out again.
“If you don’t like the brotherhood, why didn’t you take all of it?” The question comes from quiet lips, soft and whispered and as curious as the lights swimming through their submerged legs. Then her brow furrows, crinkles the corners of her eyes, turns into the shadow of a smile across blue and white lips. “What a funny thing to call themselves,” she pauses, looks back over at the blue and gold stallion, “the Krakens.” It’s how she doesn’t miss the playfulness in his eyes when he asks his next question. There is a flash of amusement in her expression, and it softens all the hard angles of her delicate face, floods soft light into those quiet deep shadows. “Afraid not,” she offers with a sigh, those dark eyes more grounded against his face now, “i’m sure you must be so disappointed.”
