The lilting sound of her laugh fell through the air between them, clean and delicate, reminding him of early spring rains. Leander could almost breathe it in – a mixture of purity and earthiness combined – and he had found it refreshing. It was a fleeting moment, though he wished it could have lasted just a little longer; for the night’s melancholy had blanketed the world in a subdued quiet which her laughter had briefly lifted.
Still somewhat mistrustful of his tongue, he nodded in wordless acceptance of Eilidh’s reply. While neither mention their losses, they were both in mourning – though the cloak of it had settled on their shoulders differently. Perhaps time had something to do with it. As the years went by, perhaps it had lessened grief’s weight, softening the fabric of his sadness so that it no longer dug into flesh and pierced bone. Instead, it had come to rest about him like a second skin. For the most part, he now found it could be worn lightly – always there, but in many ways less pressing.
Perhaps all that Eilidh needed was time.
She asked why he was here, giving the splashed stallion pause once again. “That’s probably what you’d call a long story,” he said with a try for levity, so as to counter the fact that the cloak felt a little heavier upon him tonight. Despite his efforts, his brown eyes grew more serious. He shifted in the water and resettled his wings, causing beads of moisture to scatter along feathers that were white and gold and black.
“I’ve spent most of my life looking for this place – for Beqanna.” Briefly, Leander hesitated; but then he reached out and drew the old sorrow close as he admitted, “I suppose the truth is that I’m here because of my parents.” The corners of his mouth turn gently upward in remembrance of them, of Riagan with his kind eyes and of Rayelle with her sunbeam smile. “This was their home, once… But that was a long time ago.”
