Bitter Taste

The Portal. A gentle shake of his head rebukes this assumption. She is not the first to make it, but the Rift has taken nothing from Seiji since his arrival. Instead, it has given — the jewelry in his mane, the black and silver greaves armoring his hind legs. He lost his voice long before — his own fault. His own carelessness. He thought he could do anything. Arrogance took him down: cold crawling up his haunches, dragging him down. He still remembers that. It returns clearly the moment he touches anything in periphery. Blinking, wincing just a little, Seiji tucks it back away. He does not wish to think of that time. He does not wish to recall his own arrogance. His own fall. He blinks instead at Requiem, focusing on her words. It is a terrible story. A story of war and death — Seiji reaches out gently to brush her shoulder with his muzzle. He has never suffered this way. Such suffering came generations before his. He has glimpsed it in memory, in the songs of birds, but never firsthand. He wishes, almost, he could take her suffering from her. Carry it on top of his own. She is too young to know these things. She had no choice. Now Seiji reconsiders his rebuke of her offer. Perhaps he should help her find her brother, at least. Does she have any idea where to look? He is considering his options for communicating this when she offers to help him find his voice, as well. And though he would never subject her to this (more suffering) he smiles gladly and nods his head. It is the closest he can come to what he wants — that is, to help her. Now, pricking his ears, he moves away, scanning the sands as if for a direction. He turns back, blinking at her — a questioning gaze. Where then, should we start?

@Requiem