HOCKETY, POCKETY, WOCKETY, WACK
His head shakes away the compliments, of course his King was too kind sometimes, just too kind. He had convinced himself that he should prepare for the worst, should be ready to accept some dour fate. A badger? Why yes exactly like a badger! A severe beast, terribly territorial at times, nasty when provoked. How awful for it to be a badger indeed! Ramiel just continues to shake his head as they move along, surely adapting to Weir's cautious pace. Easy does it, slow and stead winds the race after all.
He was intrigued maybe a bit by the lads apparent excitement. Like this was some sort of grand adventure. Maybe he was right, not everyday that one would look at their soul, or even have the opportunity. Was he being a fuddy duddy? He set his chin and gaze, focusing on the slow climb before another joins them. A pale mare Weir has seen before, in glimpses, but never met. She was far along as well, or looked to be, her barrel swollen to great proportions. His heart sank a little, less than it had before, but sank still. He was slowly, if ever, coping with the loss of his first and only child.
"No, by all means dear." He says simply, offering her a smile. "Pleasure of course. I'm Weir, and you must be..?" He trails off leaving her room to supply an answer, to elaborate, but also because he himself was on to the next topic. "Yes, indeed, a seeing pool. Pool of Souls I call it, though I can say it is fondly. Your true self lives within, a reflection of your being in animal form. it will be just a juvenile thing now, but with time as all things it will grow and mature." He was doing his best to keep it upbeat though he was still worried deep down, boy he really hoped it wasn't a badger looking back at him. "Nothing to worry about, i'm sure yours will be lovely." Honestly, the poor man sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well. If he had fingernails he would be chewing them to bits.