if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes
Darkness soon envelopes them and Hyaline's crickets come out to play, though the noises of nightfall and the large, silvery moon go unnoticed by Amet, whose attention and amber eyes are solely for Ciri and their newest friend. The smoky mare's lacerations, festering and swollen, do not look any better in the moonlight and as he lays down beside her, the leather-plated stallion silently berates himself for not searching for a healer sooner. For a brief moment, a cold fist clenches around his palpitating heart as the thought of her, broken and un-breathing beside the crystalline lake, flits unbidden through his mind.
A deeper gloom etches itself upon the King's face as his soft muzzle finds Ciri's neck again with unconcealed distress, even as the flame-kissed mare draws his gaze again with her voltaic fireflies. The pulsating electricity reflects in his eyes and in the placid lake beside them, though it's the mare's voice (Dragon-King, she calls him, to his slight embarrassment) that assuages the ornate stallion's worry. The soothsayer moves closer to them with care and Amet watches her closely, wondering at the serendipity of her finding them, finding Ciri, when perhaps, the starry-eyed mare needed it most. Her voice is soft and kind as her lullaby fills the night air around them and Amet moves his gold-flecked eyes back to Ciri, peering at her face for a moment before he realizes that her own orbs are glossy and heavy with the threat of tears. "It's okay, it's alright," his words are throaty and guttural in an attempt to calm her, even as she reaches for the red witch.
They try to coax the starlight from her for a second longer before Ciri's pleading voice breaks his heart all over again, the fatigue suddenly so blatant upon her face that Amet instinctively reaches for her again in hopes that his touch will help relax her. When she turns to him, her voice weighted with guilt, the Dragon King frowns and whuffs gently at her tangled mane. "Rest, Ciri," his own eyes bright with tears and concern, "I will find you a healer. I promise you will be okay."
His throat grows tighter with each passing moment and reluctantly he returns his amber eyes to the soothsayer. Clearing his throat meekly, the dragon-scaled stallion gazes up at her and is almost afraid to ask: "What is… what is she talking about? Will she be okay?"
Amet