Weir seems hesitant when he answers. The play of emotions on his face is obvious, more readily apparent the closer Ramiel draws to him. It’s weird though. Usually, the roan man would be up for anything unusual, anything strange. He’s always the first to give an explanation or a name to any and all phenomena the Daleans come across, after all. But today, faced with the greatest mystery of all (or so the young stallion believes; it’s certainly the greatest to him) Weir is reluctant to try and solve it for himself.
He stumbles over his words, and had his son’s recent death not been in the back of Ramiel’s mind as the cause for any strife, he might have laughed out loud, thinking him in fine form today. Instead, he listens to the other’s explanation. It shouldn’t surprise him that the roan is so sensitive but it does. He worries what the pool will show him, what creature will be reflected when he meets his soul for the first time in the flesh. And while most would go running at the chance to see it for themselves – like Ramiel had – Weir thinks maybe it won’t work for him, that he won’t have a soul, even. At this admission, the king does chuckle a bit, unable to hold it in.
“You are the last person I’d worry about being soulless.” He considers it for a moment then amends, “well, after Elysteria that is. I think she’s more an angel than my father.” A smile pulls at his lips as he regards the worried stallion. He follows and makes friends with the turtles for goodness sake (probably names them too, Ram thinks, his smile growing at the thought). “Like a badger?” He’d apparently interrupted one from its important duties when he came around a copse of trees one time. The animal had hissed at him and bared its teeth, not backing down until the grey had moved a good distance away from it. He’d always wondered if they were so mean or if they were simply misunderstood. He shudders at the memory before looking back at Weir, shaking his head. “No, I don’t see it.”
He’s still trying to decide what, exactly, his friend’s soul will look like when they are joined by another. Her breathy oh catches his ears, and he turns quickly, a sheepish grin curving his lips. “Soliel! Uh, Weir and I were…” He’s distracted by her belly for a moment before he realizes he’s staring. When had that happened? Spring is right around the corner, and hopefully it comes quickly, because the white mare looks as if she’ll pop any moment. He wonders if she’s remembered someone, wonders if they’ve reconciled enough to cause…this. Still a young boy in many respects, he tries not to be embarrassed by her pregnancy.
He looks at Weir for help, but plunges in anyway. “We were going to see the pool. It shows your true soul.” He hopes the older man will take over from here, will fill in what little information he himself has given. Why is he so embarrassed by such a natural event? Could it be that he’s somewhat jealous that the mare had turned to another so quickly after he’d helped her? Perhaps his pride is wounded more than anything at finding out that Soliel is pregnant. Whatever the case is, he doesn’t want to linger in the feeling. “You’re not interrupting at all. Come see for yourself.” And with a last faint smile, he moves the rest of the way up the hill and into the clearing beyond, hoping the others will be right behind him.
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale