When Hourglass asks about his avoidance of the waters, uncertainty wraps her delicate fingers around his throat and squeezes lightly, reminding him of the details of his strange conversation with another glass mare. He had hesitated to mention his family before, and now that he wonders if she might prey upon his emotion, he also wonders if maybe his subconscious had been nudging him toward . Still, there is something different about the girl standing before him, and he stares at her for a long moment as he wrestles with his immobilizing indecisiveness.
He can sense that the silence grows increasingly uncomfortable between them, and yet he still does not break it. Nearly every inch of him crawls with distrust, but there is that tiny fraction that wants to believe that there are still some who are inherently compassionate. Much to even his own surprise, that starry-eyed bit wins the argument and he decides to give a shortened version of his story.
“It makes me think too much of the past.. of all the fun I used to have with my father and brother. And it reminds me that I probably won’t ever get to have that again.”
The barest trace of tears begins to glaze his eyes but, feeling it building, he hastily turns his head to blink it away (hopefully before she notices). When he believes himself collected, he looks back to her and offers that lopsided smile again. “But now that I think of it, it seems silly. The land reminds me just as much of my mother and sisters, so I can’t really avoid both, now can I?” He can see the truth in his words, but at the same time, he’d idolized his father and brother so much that the water will always hold a different meaning for him. And that’s just something he doesn’t know how to explain to someone else.
So, he merely shrugs and lets the conversation continue.
He quietly admires the quiet smile she gives and nods in agreement when she brings up the appropriateness of her naming. He means to comment further, but she goes on to talk of her family and indirectly confirms his suspicions. Again, the sour taste rises unbidden in his throat, but he is quicker this time to force it down. He reminds himself that water of the womb, while it may nourish similar appearances, does not always foster like minds. His own existence should be proof enough of that.
The thought makes it far easier to overlook his previous experiences and he laughs readily at the mention of her brother. He could understand how the unknown young man might have conflicting thoughts about possessing such frangibility. “I guess it must make life… interesting?” He pauses, wondering if that might be another rude remark, so he rattles on, “But I bet you’re all tough as nails though.”
@Hourglass