bring on the night - any

[kildare]

He’s made a mistake. He knows he’s made a mistake the moment that confusion dawns on the fae’s face.

Good going.

He can see it as it knots her brow, makes her silver eyes flash with it. Her head cocks to the side and Kildare groans internally. He can feel the guilt that comes from her, the way her ears have gone back and she shakes her head. ”I’m sorry,” he states with a rush of hot air. And then sheepishly the boy offers her a side grin, ”My mother would have my hide if she knew I was acting this way.”

What would Kalina say about his actions? The thought of his mother gives his heart a lurch and it serves its purpose as any motherly reminder would. He had been raised better than this. Even if Kildare existed in a different place entirely from the rest of his family, they had still raised him with better principles and morals than the impulsiveness and borderline rudeness he has shown this poor mare.

The air around them is silent. Kildare tilts his head as he studies Sidhra: the petiteness of her frame, the depth of the blue hues that adorn her coat, her long ears, and silver eyes. It is only during the waiting that the thought occurs to him that something might be wrong. He had expected the mare to offer him some kind of verbal whiplash, to retaliate back at him for his obstinate nature. (Or maybe atleast tell him her name?)

But she doesn’t and Kildare feels himself becoming concerned.  ”Are you, ah, okay?” The question is reluctant, unsure of what exactly is he able to do if she isn’t.

@[Sidhra]