This look of concern had become her default expression in these days of sickness. Although Solace had somehow avoided contacting the plague (despite her constant exposure to the virus over the last year) it seemed that she was an anomaly among those she knew.
But what is troubling Dawn is, as she suspected, an ancient sort of heartache - one that far too many could relate too. Not that its prevalence made it any less painful.
Solace moves forward to close the small gap of space between them as Dawn responds. She listens to the words between the tears as she holds the girl, her heart stirring with a familiar hurt as she hears the crack in Dawn's voice.
"I... I screwed everything up," the little mare cries, and Solace pulls her closer.
"I pushed him away. Rhaegor. I told him things... things I never should have said." Dawn continues and She does nothing to ebb the flow of words, not yet. Solace trails her muzzle in lazy circles across her companion's golden shoulder. Her parental instincts were strong and at this moment Dawn could have been one of her own children, heart-broken and in desperate need of a shoulder to cry on. Solace knows she could speak for ages on the perils of young love, how rare it was for the first love to be the longest, but she remains silent for a moment longer.
"I'm so sorry you are hurting like this," the queen's quiet reply finally comes, heartfelt and low as the motion of her motherly caress halts. "You have a lot of love to give, Dawn," she continues, her tone barely above a whisper, "and someone is going to see that for the beautiful prize it is." Dawn continues on to apologize, but Solace only shakes her head.
her embrace she takes a step back so her cerulean eyes can meet her diplomats. "And you don't need to change anything about yourself to make that happen."
we are the ever-living ghost of what once was
@[Dawn]
