She bows her head to him, and he is about to tell her not to stand on formalities, that it isn't necessary here, but she stops him just before he speaks when she laughs. He chuckles with her, and the chuckle grows into a genuine laugh when she asks him what he's doing tripping over his own feet. He likes her already. She introduces herself, and he nods along. "Mystic Pleasure." he tests the name on his tongue. It sounds strange to him, different from what he often hears around Beqanna, but he isn't about to ask – not yet. He doesn't pry; there will be time to ask her later, time to hear her history, after he's gotten to know her. "Mystic." his smile is small but earnest. "A pleasure to meet you indeed." he says again, repeating his earlier words. His voice is light with humor.
She speaks again, and he listens carefully, frowning slightly in thought. "There's no shame in being startled, and no need to apologize for it." He is a wary creature himself, although being startled is not his way. In fact, in his memory nothing has ever caused him to truly startle. He is shocked by things, and perhaps it might cause another horse to spook or shy away. But to Erebor, such things are simply part of life. Where others would spook, he stands his ground.
Perhaps that is why he has come through the quest as mentally and emotionally unscathed as he has. Considering what he's been through, if he can survive with just a little bit of pensiveness, he's doing quite well.
"And there's nothing at all wrong with being on guard. The Chamber is not without enemies." he explains, his deep voice calm. In his mind, wariness is a virtue. It's a necessity. It's a cloak of iron that you wear around you at all times, drawing close and keeping yourself safe. And it draws around the Chamber as well, enhanced by the watchful, wary eyes of every horse that calls the kingdom home.
She speaks again, commenting on how he's lost in thought, and he's momentarily taken aback. But before he can think of how to respond, he hears her move, and he hears the almost-silent exclamation of pain. He is a trained warrior, and his senses are almost impossibly keen. "You're hurt." he says, almost as an afterthought. He's already aware that it's probably his fault, and he grits his teeth at the knowledge. He hates to think that he could have caused anyone in the Chamber pain or injury. "I'm sorry Mystic, this is my fault for being careless." he gnashes his teeth, angry at himself. He might not hesitate to admit his faults, but that does not mean he is comfortable with them. And this is a new one – he should've been able to avoid this collision, but he wasn't.
He pauses then as an idea comes to him.
"I may be able to fix it." he speaks quickly, clearly thinking as he talks. "Stand very still, please." he asks her, but he hopes she'll take it as a command. Closing his eyes, he focuses in on the way the heat flows around Mystic's legs. He can feel the discrepancy where the puncture cuts into her flesh. He can see how the blood fans out around the wound. And perhaps most importantly, he can see that his plan will work.
Carefully, gently, he calls upon his power to superheat the air within the puncture. He doesn't know the name of the process, but he's observed it: where blood flows, burning can be effective to stop it. He can't do anything to heal the wound per se, but he can absolutely stop it from bleeding.
His task complete, he opens his eyes and looks to the mare once more. He is abashed, chagrined, and unhappy with himself, but he would never show any of it in front of a stranger. He barely shows emotion in front of his parents.
"Better?" he asks, his rich voice flat, hoping that he already knows the answer is yes. He's never tried to use his power for this before, but it only stands to reason it would work.
erebor
heat manipulating lord of the chamber
warship x straia