TIERCEL
Yea, he feels like he’s drowning most of the time. Sucked under by the well of feelings he can falsify and project, sometimes sucked into the feelings of others and making them worse. His father had always thought he was a moody boy as a young child, even if he never directly told Tiercel that, and he wasn’t exactly wrong. Islas was probably just as right, too.
It can be so hard trying to swim against the current.
He’s surprised that the milk-white mare is so insightful, for being so young and so… forlorn. She looked skyward, long and hard, leaving Tiercel to puzzle over the disconnect in her gaze and her words. She’s looking for answers but knows exactly which direction to start. “You’re not a shape to be fit.” He contradicts Isla’s self-assessment, then, “I didn’t mean to insinuate that you were. I’m sorry.” And he is.
Tiercel began reasoning that there might only be a part (or parts) of her that weren’t horse at all. She looked like them, knew their history and how to act like them, but she was empty… emotionally. Yes? More than likely other things as well, but of that one thing he was pretty certain. “I think you and I are just the opposite kinds of strange, Islas.” The young stallion suggested, grinning lazily again. “And that maybe we could…” The blue-gold youth considered innocently, “comfort each other?”
Tiercel was burning to try.
He thought quickly about everything she might be searching for: purpose, belonging, what was the one for knowledge answered? Certainty? He took those three and mulled them over, trying to boil them down into something that might resemble an emotion he could magically fabricate. The world around them didn’t change or shift at all; Tiercel worked quietly and listened wide-eyed. “I think I know what you might like.” He offered moments later, if she was willing.
It's the same way you showed me // Nod my head, don't close my eyes
@[Islas]