[private] take a look in the mirror

[Tarian]

Tarian had spent a few years as a scout while in Liridon and though he casually drapes his silvered wings to draw attention away from his odd stance, his blue eyes scour this little meadow earnestly. He notices the areas where well-worn trails serve as entrances and exits; he takes note of where a few nomads have gathered for the evening and assesses the few travelers quietly and quickly. Nobody seemed to have paid particular interest in him (and hopefully his landing) and the Loessian snorts softly.

Good.

(There is the nagging thought that they will notice him once he starts shining like the damn moon but Tarian ignores that for now. He has a few hours yet before that happens.)

He's grateful, though, for these thoughts. They distract him from the recent revelations that he left behind him in Loess - ones he hasn't decided yet if they are troubling (and if so, how much?) - and his brief study of the meadow that he stands in reminds the gray pegasus of his days as a soldier. The white flash of pain that sears up his hindleg is another distraction because, otherwise, he would have noticed the faint sheen of blue and the way that the light of the dying day caught against it as Altissima approached. She would have been the first vision swimming in his blue eyes instead of the lightning strikes of pain caused by an old battle injury at the corner of his eyes.

The warrior hides it beneath a stony countenance that only crumbles when the pale woman comes close enough to see the guarded way that Altissima meets his gaze, not much different from the way that he carefully holds his wings or refuses to shift his weight. As unmoveable as any mountain.

"Then they will have to contend with Ashhal," Tarian says, attempting to stop reeling from his shock at seeing her again. He makes it sound as if the other brute could be something far worse to deal with than himself. The edges of his dark lips tug slightly downward as the Loessian hears himself - of how sharp his words come and it's such an odd sensation because they cut something within Tarian. He doesn't want to come across as angry with her and so something inside the winged stallion attempts to catch the edge of the words. It breaks across his face when the expression finally gives her just perceptively softens.

"@[Altissima]," speaking her name is far easier than trying to explain the torrent of emotions she always seems to inspire. The way that he can see how tense she stands and the battle that stirs to life in him; the way that Tarian has told himself that he only cares for Loess and the safety of its inhabitants and yet here he is, remembering Altissima's laughter that night in Loess and the way that he admired her wild spirit and finding himself concerned that she holds it all back so tightly.

"Not plotting a second attempt, are you?" he asks, countering her question with one of his own.