I haven't come to say I'm sorry; Karaugh/Any

[Rhonen]

rhonen

molten eyes and a smile made for war

She comes closer and he continues to watch her, listening to her words. Karaugh claims it’s not her land, but he disagrees. If she makes a home here, she has some claim on the place. Like it had been his Falls, though he had never ruled it. He says nothing, simply watches her while he ponders it. Perhaps she does not feel the attachment to Sylva that he felt to the Falls; perhaps without generations of its people running through her blood, she can’t feel for Sylva like he once felt. He supposes he will find out, since he has no such connection to Sylva either.

Rhonen opens his mouth to agree to her tour, deciding not to say anything about the Falls, when they are not alone. A roan filly, younger than himself but certainly a young adult, slides to a stop by them, greeting Karaugh; and then there is another. He flicks darks eyes momentarily to Karaugh, and then muffles a sigh, accepting that he will not have her to himself for a while. Turning to the two strangers, the chestnut boy adopts what he hopes is a neutral, if not friendly, expression. “I’m not from the Meadow.” he tells the younger of the mares, something dangerous flashing in his eyes, his voice flat. But – it is not her fault, either, that he has no Falls. That he has no home.

Forcing a smile, however sharp-edged it is, he glances at the other mare as well, flicking an ear as she gently scolds the younger of the duo. It is certainly a better approach than his sharp words. They both seem to know his guide, and so he offers his own name. “I’m Rhonen. Originally of the Dazzling Waterfalls, and then out of Beqanna, but now I live here. I guess.”