i don't dance, don't ask......i'll be over here, oh here..
It's then that she notices the darkness consuming him. Wisps of shadow clamber up his legs and she takes a step back. Ma? he says at first, and the words cause a pang in her chest. A moment where it feels like a beat is missed, threatening to claim her to the dark side again. Gulping, Sarkis squeezes tight her eyes, taking deep breathes to soothe herself,-her soul. Whispers pass her whiskers, in soft cooing tones, "One......two...three.." She's counting, slowly, steadily. She will do so until the pain passes, until her heart doesn't feel so tight in her breast.
Reaching ten she lets out one long exhale of breath, opening her hazel eyes to look at the man in front of her. "I'm sorry, no, I'm no ones mother." She offers him an apologetic, closed mouth smile. Again her eyes fall to the ground, to the rising shadows at his cannons. He answers then, a dejected no.
She doesn't know him, but she does feel sorry for him. What terrible thing had happened to make him so sorrowful? Sarkis herself had seen some rough times, was still getting over the bad and trying to let in the good. "What's, um, what's on your legs? Is it hurting you?" Simple enough questions, a veil of concern wraps itself around her features. "Do you want to talk about it? Do you just want to talk?" Speaking is like breathing for the young roan, of late she hadn't done it so often, but she is sure she could now. If it would help, she imagined she had looked very much the same lately. Forlorn and broken, detached.
"I'm Sarkis by the way," A timid relinquish of her name, the one her dam had spoken, brushing her lips across her forehead. That seemed so very long ago now.