there's an ocean inside my head; waves that don't ever rest

won't you take your time on me? 'cause we got nowhere else to be

Despite the reformation of lands around Beqanna, some things have not changed, and this is one of those places. The bay roan stallion steps from the embrace of the forest into the sunlit meadow and lifts his head to the sky, letting the sunshine wash across and warm his dark hide, soaking in the first fingers of spring warmth. After a moment he lowers his eyes to the Meadow itself, and takes a quick survey of those available to be approached. Mentally he eliminates groups entirely, because he’s not sure he’s ready for that sort of concentrated social interaction.

(Maybe not ready for any interaction, but this is what father has requested of him. He will not fail again so soon.)

His eyes settle on a painted stallion standing alone not terribly far away, and he strikes out in that direction, keeping his dark brown eyes focused on his quarry though he takes a round-about path across the Meadow, steeling himself for the moment when they will intersect paths. Or, rather, when Cagney will get close enough to the stranger that he has to give up his pretense of wandering, since the other stallion isn’t moving.

That moment comes sooner than perhaps he’d hoped, time marching steadily on without his interference, and so the boy clears his throat as he walks up to the other, not making any attempt to hush his approach – it’s bad enough to actually approach a stranger by himself, he’s not going to deal with having surprised them as well. “Hello,” he offers, tentative, and attempts to stretch a smile across his lips to go with the words.

(He fails. He has nothing to smile about anyway.)

“I’m Cagney,” he adds after a moment. Could you be any more awkward? he wants to ask himself, trying to cover a wince.

CAGNEY

master of time

there's an ocean inside my head; waves that don't ever rest

won't you take your time on me? 'cause we got nowhere else to be

The stallion he has chosen to approach doesn’t jump as if startled, and he even smiles as he offers a response to the roan’s greeting – and Cagney considers that a great success. He’s always been shy, even before everything else that had happened, so social interactions have been fraught with uncertainty – what do I say, how do I act? – and the success makes him a little bolder. And then surprised – because he hadn’t even noticed that the other stallion was blind.

(This is why he’s been hiding by himself for all these years. How stupid can he be?)

There’s nothing to say about that, I mean, he can’t exactly apologize. It’s not his fault the stranger is blind, even though he is sorry for it. But he also can’t say nothing (which is his default mode) because Tenebris certainly isn’t going to be able to read his facial expressions and body language like he usually relies on. “Oh, um, that’s ok. I’m just in front of you, and a little to your left…not wait, that’s my left.” He chuckles nervously at himself, “It’s your right.” This time when he smiles and Tenebris can’t see it, it’s a self-deprecating smile if ever there was one. Cagney will never be the sibling who turns into a mini-me of his father, because he’ll never have half the gumption Brennen does; it’s hard for him to see past his own limitations.

They share a darkness in their history, though of course they’d have to have a pretty in-depth conversation to find that out, and that would require Cagney to open up about his past. About the things he had done, or at least witnessed. About the monster he had saved.

(But oh, how he loved her. Even now, he loves the memory of her.)

“So, ah…where are you from? Do you live here?” It skirts around the real question in Cagney’s mind – because despite his lack of suaveness, he at least knows it would be exceedingly rude to ask why the dude’s blind.

CAGNEY

master of time