Welcome to Gaia! ::

He relaxed his stance, the slight tension that had come into his shoulders in worry leaving him as she affirmed that she was fine. The mare had a pleasant voice, though she sounded a little hesitant, almost as though she didn't quite suspect she should be speaking to him. Well, he couldn't completely blame her - here he was, showing up out of no where in the woods, and in the midst of a storm, no less.

In retrospect, he was lucky she hadn't reared back and clobbered him.

"I'm well, thank you." Glancing from side to side, he took a few steps back, casting her a quick and brief smile as he did so. "Just a moment, please."

He braced himself, hooves digging into the soft earth, and shook his head and neck. His hair, so neatly and nicely braided, sent water droplets flying everywhere, though he'd at least had the courtesy to back away enough that the mare wouldn't be showered. When he stopped, his braids still hung heavily over his neck, but at least they weren't as wet, and water wasn't dripping into his eyes.

Smiling again, he trotted toward her, swishing his tail in the hopes of ridding it of some of the water as well. "I'm Jonquil. I must say I'm surprised to see someone else wandering these parts. I'd thought I was alone."

He didn't say it as though it was a bad thing - while exploring by oneself was fun and you didn't have to worry about the restrictions imposed by another, he enjoyed company to an equal degree, and wouldn't have minded having a partner to traipse the oceanside with.

He was sure it did look as though he'd gone swimming prior to going into the forest - his coat was soaked, and though he'd shook out his mane as best he could, it was obviously still heavy with water. Regardless, he didn't take her words at anything other than face value, and so he wasn't offended. It was rare to offend him, usually because he gave others the benefit of the doubt and never assumed that someone meant to cause him distress.

As she spoke he leaned forward, stretching his legs out in front of him and exhaling in quiet content. He'd been walking all day, and though he was used to it, it still felt good to stretch out the muscles. He found that reduced the fatigue overall, and made it much easier on him when he chose to go wandering again.

"Seralin, hm? That's a pretty name." It was a compliment, but there was no flirtatious intent behind it. That was his usual manner, and though his general dispersion of compliments sometimes baffled others, they eventually grew used to it.

He wondered why those with such elegant names would choose to shorten them. Sera was fine, a fun little slip of a name, but one he imaged more suited to a filly than a fully grown, elegant adult. He imagined, given the general structure of her face and figure, that when she hadn't been tossed about by a storm and caught unaware, she could cut a striking figure. Of course, Jonquil didn't know a single mare that he didn't find beautiful in a way, and not necessarily just the physical. He was a stallion that rarely dabbled in romance, but certainly looked at the world through romantic eyes, finding beauty wherever he went.

Glancing up through the canopy of trees, more following her cue than not, he saw the dying rays of the sun shining feebly down upon the leaves. It haloed them, giving them the appearance that they were burning. He thought it was a grand picture.

"The storm passed faster than I thought. I was sure it would continue through the night, but here's the sun, saying goodnight."

He stood a moment longer, watching the sunlight and the shadows play games with the leaves, before he lowered his head and watched the mare curiously. She didn't seem as though she particularly wanted company, but he got the impression that she liked the alternative even less. When she spoke of the night and that it could be frightening, he felt his thoughts were confirmed; had she not offered to let him come stay with her, he would have parted ways and found another place to sleep.

Canting his head, his gentle amber eyes reassured of his honest intentions even as his tone carried the gentleness and simplicity that confirmed it. "I'd like that. It's kind of you."

Turning, he began to walk beside her, carefully and neatly lifting his hooves in rhythm with her own steps. He was in no rush to be anywhere, as his plans to return home wouldn't be put into motion until the next day at the earliest. Who knew, perhaps he would find another avenue to explore on the way back, and his return would be delayed even farther?

While the silence between them wasn't awkward, when making a new acquaintance he liked to make conversation, so he did. "Are you a traveler as well, Seralin?"

Ah, so she was more nomadic than even he was. He traveled extensively, it was true, but he always went home in the end - and he always knew where home was. No matter where life and his explorations took him, he didn't think he would find another place quite like the one he had been raised in. He knew the hills and the lakes, could take comfort in the familiar skyline and the smattering of flowers that came back every spring after the harsh winter. It balanced him, he knew, because he was always seeking the new and exciting, but also needed the comfort and stability of a base.

Her question made him think, casting back in his memory for the first time he'd headed out on his own and tasted the exhilaration of exploring the unknown. How old had he been? He couldn't recall. In his colt years, he had been filled with the love of his family, and a closeness to his brother that he had regrettably not experienced since then. His true wanderlust hadn't reared its head until he reached adulthood and could safely traipse across the countryside alone.

Glancing to her, expression pleasant but still, he replied, "I don't really know. I've always been curious, but I suppose I didn't really start to travel until I reached adulthood. It just wasn't safe then, and I was closer to my family. I didn't really feel the need to wander."

He wondered what that said about him now. It wasn't that he was dissatisfied with his life, was it? By his own statement and logic, that seemed the natural conclusion, but it didn't seem that way to him. He felt very content, very relaxed in his current lifestyle. It didn't have the rush and passion that some others held, but had that really ever been for him?

"What about you?" He dismissed his own thoughts for now, preferring to focus on the mare. After all, he had his entire life to get to know himself, and who knew how long he would be in the company of Seralin.

Jonquil listened to her story, scarely making a noise aside from his own quiet breath and the swish of his tail against the backs of his legs. It was a sad one, inspiring heartache that he had never personally known, telling a tale of sorrow that he was not sure he would be able to overcome - or that anyone could overcome, really, for their entire life. Grief was a process, but there was no time limit on mourning a loss, be it of a life, a home, a way of living. Even a memory, as hers must have felt tarnished by her loss. Fleetingly, he thought back to the leaves and their coloration, wondered if she had seen the fire in them that he had.

He'd thought it beautiful. For her, it must have been a different feeling, one that wrenched in her very gut.

Silently, he kept his eyes straight ahead, allowing her story to fall on ears that were not sympathetic but were rather empathetic. He could tell from her tone that it was difficult for her to relate her story, but this was not a scenario he was unused to. Oftentimes when a soul was burdened to its breaking point one felt that they must confide in someone, anyone, and a relative stranger seemed to work the best. They were distant, they would not be a fixture in a life, and above all, they were safe. He couldn't count the number of times that a sorrowful traveler had confided that they hadn't been able to tell anyone else of their worries, and they only felt comfortable with him because they knew he would be slipping away the next morning, never to bring it up again, never to judge.

Jonquil wasn't the type to judge regardless. But he could understand the comfort of sharing, of lessening the burden. He might never have felt such a deep sorrow, and he prayed to the spirits that he would never have to. But this time, as it did each time, it humbled him that a stranger could confide in him. Whether she was seeking comfort or not, it was Jonquil's nature to do so, and so as she finished, he glanced to her. Their eyes met, and held for a moment.

At her feeble smile, he offered a gentle one. Where he could have spoken, he simple leaned over, gave her a gentle nudge on the shoulder. Simple contact, meant to be simply reassuring. I'm here, he was trying to say, For however long you need.

He didn't know where this powerful urge to protect and heal came from. He'd had it since he was a colt, though then it had been immature and focused on his brother. Tobias had never really needed Jonquil to interfere, but he'd always kept an eye out, just in case. Just as his brother had for him.

Craning his neck so that he could look her in the face, he said quietly, "I've never known a heartache so heavy. Yours still hurts, doesn't it?"

They had reached a place that looked rather lived in, and he assumed it was where she had been staying. There was one bed of leaves bundled into a corner, slightly unkempt and scattered, though whether that had been caused by restless sleep or a stray wind was hard to determine. Jonquil didn't choose to speculate; he looked at Seralin, wondering at her words, and mulling them over in his mind.

He'd never really thought about if his life had a purpose, so to speak. Of course there was a reason he roamed the earth, and he didn't do ill to it or its creatures while he was here. If anything, he tried to help where he could, but he wouldn't consider that trait as strong as a purpose. Exploring couldn't be that either, because while it was a fancy of his, he'd never actually picked up and completely left, being far too attached to his home and his family to consider such a thing.

All in all, Jonquil had never needed a greater purpose to feel content. But he knew that some others did, and clearly Seralin was one of them. She'd found identity and stability in her family and home, much as he did. With that wrenched from her, she was lost and lonely, floundering in a world that could be cold and unkind. It didn't take him long to realize that he, too, would feel similarly with the loss of his family and home; it was the one thing that grounded him, and he couldn't imagine not having a place to return to.

Stopping in the middle of the small camp, he angled his gaze toward her, eyes calm but warming as he considered. Already, Jonquil ws beginning to grow an attachment; it didn't take long for him to find a friend, and he thought that if he could, he wanted to help this mare.

"You'll never have to thank me for listening. I should thank you for sharing with me." He walked along the perimeter of the area, making certain that nothing else was nesting along there, that they weren't intruding on someone else's home. "Yours is a heavy sorrow indeed. It's wise not to be ruled by it, but at the same time, if you never allow your emotions to run their course, you will be ruled by them."

He began to scrape a hoof along the floor, gathering leaves to make himself a similar bed to her own. "There's no shame in feeling grief for what has happened. It's natural and healthy. If you're feeling lost and alone, you can even use that grief for good."

It wasn't often that Jonquil worried about overstepping his bounds, but he understood this was a tender subject, and he didn't want to offend the mare. After all, she had been nothing but kind to him so far. "I'm sure there are others who feel the same way, who are just as lost and perhaps even frightened by the prospect of never quite getting back on their feet again. Others who do not have as strong a heart as you, who won't be able to pick up and carry on. It could be that your purpose is to find them and help them in the way that you have helped yourself."