The sun moves relentlessly across the sky above them, the light making a slow pendulum of the shadows from the trees. He doesn’t notice the time that passes, however. He’s so enraptured in familiar company - Djinni’s specifically – that he doesn’t really care at how little progression he’s made back into Beqanna. The wild lands were different. Every day was a brand new challenge at forging ahead to new lands. It was absolutely draining to keep his band together, to posture and herd and often fight for the witless mares that gave him nothing in return. He doesn’t miss the constant motion. Already, his feet press heavily into the ancient soil of the sunrise-lands as if they are reluctant to move for a long while. Something tells him that Djinni’s are not used to being static either. Surely, they’ve traversed many strange lands and accrued many miles on her journey. He’s interested to hear about any and all of them, but she seems to steer the conversation in another direction.
Always the gentleman, he obliges.
But the sudden change in her (subtle, but there nonetheless) confuses him. Doubt creeps over her as it had him only moments before. A memory comes to him like déjà vu. They’d been here before, standing face-to-face after years apart. She’d looked much the same but without the yellow and feathers in her hair. He’d balked at her touch then, too, instinctually and not understanding the tawny mare’s intent. Now, after years of missing this very aspect of one sentient creature’s expression towards another, he can’t believe he’s made the same mistake again. For her part, Djinni recovers quickly. Her words are a distinct dare; she pulls his doubts away with only a few choice sentences.
I missed you, repeats in his brain, warming him more than even her touch had. Words he can understand; words are black and white unlike the grey of touch and feel. He’ll never fully understand those parts of a relationship. He’ll never fully be able to utilize his physicality to draw closer to another – it’s simply beyond his realm of understanding. Her admittance assures him far more than a well-placed muzzle or the press of skin. He’s missed her, too. It’s an easy truth that he has no trouble in revealing. “I missed you, too.”
But because he’s late on the uptake (as he always has been; he’s the last bit of molasses in an already harvested forest) the conversation is already moving along. He smiles, somewhat sheepishly as she blazes ahead to answer his question. His mind still lingers on what she’d said - I missed you - a truth that had amassed over a decade spent apart. Walter had thought of her, of course, but he’s still surprised to find the opposite had been true as well. So when she does answer him, he’s overly quick to reassure her. “You will.” His voice is hoarse in his haste and he hurries to clear it. “Any kingdom would be lucky to have you.”
And for the first time in his life (because she deserves it for putting up with him, and he thinks she wants it, too) he initiates contact. He stretches his golden neck as far as he can before he realizes he should just move closer. He does, his muzzle hovering awkwardly over her own neck for a moment before he touches down with his chin. The contact sends a shiver across his skin, but he finds it is a rather pleasant chill. If anyone could make this okay, it would be Djinni. Walter withdraws slowly, testing the limits of his tolerance and finding they didn’t really exist with the paint mare. He smiles when he looks back at her, wondering if she realized how big of a step he had just taken. “If I’ve missed anything more than you, it’s the Chamber,” he says, winking to show his jest. He has missed the pines of his youth, but he hasn’t decided if he’ll return just yet. “Otherwise, I think they’re all basically the same these days. Pick a place and go from there.” Of course he doesn’t really believe it, but he’s more interested in her opinion anyway.
Walter
come down from the mountain
you have been gone too long