and where you invest your love, you invest your life
Do you live alone, then?
The question rips a laugh from his throat, one that is dark and husky and harsh—the sound like a bullet in the cold Tundra air. The ferocity of it almost surprises him and then embarrasses him, as if he had shown too much, said too much, explained too much. He was deeply personal by nature, something that was only aggravated by the vulnerability of his gifts. It wasn’t in the cards for him to get overly close with anyone.
As soon as the sound of his laugh died on his lips, he went quiet, expression wiping clean as he looked at the ground, focusing hard on the wisps of dying grass as they swayed around his hooves. There were things that he did not mean to share, did not mean to reveal. He wouldn’t have even chosen to start this conversation if it had been up to him, but since he was here, he knew that there was not much he could do. So he swallowed hard and then glanced up, holding her gaze for a second before looking elsewhere.
That level of intimacy was just a little too much for him to handle.
“I do,” he finally replied, pale eyes looking toward the border and wishing that he was still there. “It’s not so bad.” It was lonely, is what he meant to say, but he had long since told himself that loneliness was just something that he would have to learn to live with. Loneliness was his life and there was no way for him to get around that. “It’s quiet over there. A lot of time to be with your thoughts.” He meant it as a good thing, but after he voiced it, he wondered why it sounded so damn sad hanging in the air between them.
Shaking his head, he sent the tangled tendrils of his mane flying, the mess of it falling down both sides of his thick neck. “What are the caves like?” he asked before he could stop himself, genuine curiosity showing in his eyes before they shuttered close. “I have heard that one such cave was used as part of the initiation into the brotherhood.” He had considered it once: walking through, earning his scars, serving beneath his father. It had been a dream that he had ultimately given up, but one he liked to hold onto for some reason. Perhaps one day, he would. Or, perhaps, he would spend the rest of his days hiding.