You can be sure, though Agetta doesn’t know who Garbage’s mother was nor where to find her, if she did know, the small white mare would certainly walk right up to her and give her a piece of her mind. “I’m sorry.” She says, half because it’s what you say and half because she does, truly, mean it. She has no idea who this stallion is, really, no idea what his life has been filled with – but she’s not about to start believing in a world where foals deserve to be called Garbage.
He changes the subject, and she doesn’t fight against the change. Her midnight gaze flickers momentarily away from his to take in the meadow, as if she could spot what she had come here for.
Of course, she can’t.
“I’m not really sure. Looking for… faces I used to know, I guess. New friends maybe. Hoping I’ll find either a reason to either slip into the world of ghosts or come fully back to this one.” Although she did not think of his question as a pick-up line, she becomes belatedly aware that hers could have come across as one. Not that she had ever been good at flirting in the first place. There are some skills that elude her even now, and she’s far too old to be learning. And, besides, her words had been spoken with a naked, blunt sort of honesty that leaves nowhere for traces of flirtation to linger.
It’s brutally true, she’s been feeling as though she’s been walking the knife’s edge between life and death for years now. She’s not sure why she had actually said that, except maybe in response to his own honesty about his name. A sliver of her truth for the one he had shared. They’re a step above strangers, and it may be stupid to share their secrets, but sometimes it’s easier to be honest with someone you’ve never met before.
It would be polite to return the question, but Agetta doesn't ask the orange-eyed stallion because she's being polite. She asks because she's genuinely curious. “And what about you?”
@[garbage]