...maybe love isn’t a real thing. Says her dear friend and the words and their heartbreaking disillusionment make her frown. The chestnut has never thought the world empty of love. She loves her children, Litotes, Brigade, the parents she left behind, Clayton, Dawn, dozens of others. Even when she ruins her relationships she can look back and find love in all the memories. Sometimes that hurts, but it’s proof that this thing he thinks is just farce is in fact far from it. Without hesitation the Primarch embraces Clayton, resting her chin against his bay shoulder. “Oh Clay. It is real.” Her words are muffled against his skin so she pulls back to look into his eyes. “It is real.” Sighing, Kensa does not try to push away the painful topic with one of her megawatt smiles. His pain is real too, no matter what she or any of their old group might think about the circumstances that brought it about. “Love is very real, sometimes it breaks, or is flawed or misplaced, or just can’t survive. ” Sometimes we kill it—but she doesn’t say that, because she doesn’t want the hazel-eyed stallion to misunderstand her meaning.
“Of course my friend, I came here to ask you to come home.” She brushes his deep green forelock off of his unmarked face. “So shut up and come home.” Kensa’s voice takes on a grave, pleading tone but she smiles hand gives him a light nip on the side of his neck. She is playful but gentle with him, knowing he is floundering in this new reality he’s returned to.
—
@[Clayton]
