A warmth grows somewhere near his heart when Graveling laughs at his trick. He doesn’t see beneath her cracked, smiling lips to the pain that is still fresh, to the loss of the only home she’s known. All he knows is that his actions, however juvenile, have brought her some measure of happiness, as they were intended to. But there’s more to the warmth than that, even. There’s a familiarity, a degree of knowing that he hadn’t expected so soon. Graveling is his charge, yes, but it is so much more than that. And though he’s been responsible for an entire kingdom (and the horses who inhabit it) for nearly three years now, somehow the weight of this responsibility is more personal. An almost paternal protectiveness comes over him for the first time in his life.
It warms him further to see the interaction between the two girls. Lirren is open and welcoming; she does not question the now-alive girl’s complexion or differences. Even as the leaves fall down upon the two fillies, Ramiel begins to shift back. He supposes Graveling should get used to his own fleshed out form rather than the alternative he is nearly more comfortable in. He hadn’t thought of the consequences of being a ghost around her – that she’d likely prefer the familiar, see-through version of him rather than the horseflesh he was born with. If anything, though, she needs to adapt. Her own skin is doing much the same; he’s noticed the bits of gold creeping over her skeleton form, assuring that one day she will be whole. He’s relieved, truthfully, though it’s a sad commentary on the world they live in. The rest of Beqanna is not likely to be as kind to the face of a rotting woman.
Before the leaves have stopped swirling, new light-echoes of the real ones join in the chaos. It’s a rather dazzling display, but at first Ramiel has no idea how it is happening. He looks at Graveling first, his brows quirked. Is this some lingering effect from the afterlife, or is she gifted with her own brand of magic? Lirren interjects, claiming it as her work, and he turns to the young girl. “Yes, of course it is.” The grey stallion smiles, his gaze flickering between the lights and their source. “Far more pretty than mine as well.”
It is not lost on him that Lirren claimed Ely had brought her, but he is too caught up in her display to address it at first. Now that he looks at her properly, though, he can see the resemblance. They are the same bay shade, but where Elysteria’s hair is dark, the girl has unusual teal features. Not that he’s one to talk about unusual hair with his strands of gold. He’s not sure if Joscelin has another sibling (is she Ely’s daughter? Who, then, is the father?) until Lirren clears up her heritage for them. Well, mostly. She doesn’t mention a father, and Ramiel wonders if she even knows herself. Knowing that is a conversation for adults, not the bright children he’s currently in the company of, he doesn’t ask.
Her question grows his smile. As unreal as it seems, it is all too possible to walk amongst the stars. “You certainly could have. Your sister Joscelin and I did once.” He doesn’t add that they’d ridden on the back of a space-ray. He forgets to mention the rest of it, too: that they’d battled monsters and heard the clash and clank of the langoliers. He doesn’t tell her that it had nearly cost him his life, that it had cost Joscelin her once-flawless skin and years of self-assuredness. The stars were beautiful, sure, but he’s glad to feel the firmness of the earth beneath him now. “It’s terribly cold, though. You wouldn’t forget that cold.” Ramiel looks at Graveling then. “Perhaps you and Lirren could explore the rest of the Dale sometime. There’s plenty of adventures to be had here as well.” He doesn’t think she needs the confidence-building, not really, but that same warmth makes him provide it anyway. If anything, he wonders if the two yearlings are past the point of exploring and make-believe. Their lives have already been more tumultuous than others three times their age – certainly more so than his and Joscelin’s had been.
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale