I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
She says something as she approaches. A name, he thinks. One that feels both familiar and foreign. After a moment, he realizes she had meant him when she said Ashhal. His scowl deepens at that, but the soft surprise and hurt on her angelic features stir something else too. Regret.
For the briefest of moments, the irritable lines etched into his features are replaced by something akin to confusion. What was it about her that caused him to regret? The answers don’t come, of course, but it does expel the immediate urge to leave.
Shifting to better face her, he eyes her warily, still not quite certain if he should engage or not. For the first time he feels the vulnerability in the lack of his memories. This mare seems to know perfectly well who he is while he knows nothing of her or how he might know her. It’s unnerving, to say the least.
Which says nothing of the emotions she stirs deep in his breast. Emotions he’s not quite certain he wishes to confront.
After another moment of silence, in a low tone he finally asks, “Who are you?” Belatedly it occurs to him that is not actually a helpful question. After all, a name would tell him nothing if he could not remember it. “How do you know me?”
@[Desire]