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The blowing sand stung her face, but she did not look at Margaery. "I have not been home for many years. I would be a stranger to them and them to me. They would love me and accept me, but it is not my home anymore. It's true, you can't go home again."

Falsetto felt the unpleasant burn behind her eyes, the impending warning of tears. But she would not cry, she had not cried for years. She would not yield to that emotion--she would not give herself over to it.

What was there to say to Margaery? "I don't need your pity. Just leave, I'll be fine. Believe me or don't. I'm tired of these games and masquerades."

That's right push her away, push everyone away that gets too close--who asks questions she doesn't want to answer. Just leave her alone, don't make her think about it anymore. Don't make her feel like crying.

This was stupid. It was all so stupid, these hot emotions with a practical stranger. Yet, the stranger made her chest burn.

I don't know what to believe, she thought.

But what was the point in saying it? False had played her games, tried to show this beautiful mare what she thought she wanted to see. The burn of tears blurred her vision, she wanted to run and hide but she would not. If she was going to cry, she'd at least do it with some dignity.

Hot tears streaked down her face and shone in the moonlight. She took a little breath, trying to steady her voice. "I don't know. There's no reason to believe me. I am vain. I am lost. I am a liar. How can one be loyal or kind if she is one of those? I don't know. I..." She sniffed, still in vain trying to hide her tears.
"There is no-no reason to believe me. I wanted to make you stay, I didn't want to be alone. But you can't even know if that's a lie."

She closed her blurry eyes, "I just don't know."

Margaery was before her with her big brown eyes, her face swam through the tears up at her. Here she was asking why she wanted her to stay, as though it wasn't obvious in some ways. "I am interested in you." Maybe I am all of those things. "You were pretty and charming. I wan-wanted to know you." She looked away from the depths of brown gazing at her.

"None too near. Knochen has his own problems without my own. He's not the...compassionate sort. Passionate, yes."

The tears still streamed down her face as she looked back at Margaery. "I thought that because you didn't know me. That you might. Stay." Her voice was soft, as she sniffled. Even Knochen didn't stay since he knew her. He was too bitter as she was. They were too bitter together.

"Because you didn't know me."

False watched the slow smile on Margaery's lips. "I would," she answered honestly. But the real her had often gotten her nowhere. She was too brash, too bold with what she wanted or liked. She was as she was often too, a "bit much to handle."

"I would like that," she felt a pleasant heat humming in her chest. The tears were mercifully beginning to slow. "I don't even know what to say. What I would talk about with someone who would listen. I don't half know them myself."

It was a good promise. To have Margaery stay and talk to her, for her own sake--that was something. She did not tell her that there might not be more, but even if there was not this was enough. Someone to listen, to care if even for a little while.

False laughed through the final haze of tears. "My vanity has been my most constant companion, I doubt it'll leave easily." The cool winds wafted around them, stirring their hair in the night breeze.

The warmth of the tent enveloped her after the chill of the night. Margaery sat there in front of her surrounded by the plush pillows. False took a careful seat a few feet away, half inclined on another pile of pillows. Her nose still felt sniffly, but the tears had mostly stopped.

Biting off a grape, she searched for a topic of conversation. "Tell me about the Khalasaar. What's it like? Is it dangerous or fun?" She needed to ease into talking about other things even though Margaery made her feel like opening up to her immediately.

"That sounds cozy," False bit into a grape, letting the taste explode in her mouth. This Khahlessi sounded like an interesting sort. She'd heard of her before now, but never by someone close to Daenarys. "Mother?" She questioned. Well that was an interesting turn. "Why mother?"

Falsetto turned to study a grape intensely. "Knochen. We've known each other some time. We've been lovers off and on. Mostly off. He thinks he's not much o a stallion because he has no kalona traits." She shrugged, her bells chiming with the movement. "I think..maybe he's lonelier than I am."

"That's kind of beautiful," she listened to the rest of Margaery's words. The first part gave a odd little lurch in her chest. "I don't like him much. Sometimes, I don't like him at all. But I feel...compassion for him. When he has no one else to turn to, he comes to me. If I need him, he will not turn me away. It doesn't solve anything. After, we're just as lonely as before. But for just a little bit..."

Falsetto turned back to Margaery. "For just a little bit, we're not alone. We're one. No worries or cares. He's nice to be lonely with most of the time." She tilted her head slightly, "Why are you with the Khalasar and not your home?"

False smiled, "And as always Princes are hard to find." She paused a moment, "It was gratifying. Is. But it is a paltry imitation of something I want. A knock-off." She shrugged her heavy shoulders. "But it is what I have."

"Tell me Margaery, has no one ever spoke to you and told you how beautiful you are? Not just superficially, but someone who sees the very fibers of your soul--someone who knows who you are inside and out?" She raised an eyebrow. "To be told that by someone who doesn't love you is kind, sweet even. It makes you feel very happy. But then you think, 'What would it feel like if this was real?' And once you think about that, no amount of stolen moments can outweigh the fact that the person who sees you through and through, does not love you."