The surest sign of strength
that I have ever seen
is gentleness
The mule's smile broadens, joy and appreciation shining through the brown of his eyes, brightening the color to a warm, copper hue, as if the metaphorical flame of his heart were a physical thing, stoked high in excitement and rising to illuminate his expression from within. "Yes! I accept." He's breathless again, genuinely thrilled with how well this is going, and when the Sovereign's rose red eyes meet his own, he thinks them only gauging, astute enough to be taken as a final judgement, but not so sharp as to be critical or malignant.that I have ever seen
is gentleness
Willfur lets him look. He has nothing he wants to hide, at the bottom of it, and if the other stallion were to spot something repellant enough to dissuade him now, well, that's his prerogative. "Thank you." He nods, dipping his chin in the stoic, rigorously formal way that men do when trying to express emotions deemed too soft or effusive for serious business.
Willfur is the hugging type, himself. He finds that a good forehead press or clasping of necks can communicate even more than words or visible expression, and sometimes more succinctly. Some things in life just have to be felt, he's convinced, and it's only through a long and awkward series of misunderstandings that he's been trained to reserve such things for second or third meetings, though he still doesn't see any sense in it. "I'll do everything I can."
There's more he wants to say, questions he wants to ask - so many questions - but he hasn't missed the air of distraction around the King of Flowers, the way that he seems to be having more of a conversation with himself than with Willfur. There are things at work here he's not privy to, and though he'd like to be one day, he's never been one to topple a wall all at once, opting instead to invest the time and care it takes to gently chip away the mortar between the stones, letting them fall free when they choose, whole and undamaged. "Thank you for your time." He says, stepping away, one ear still trained on the snowcapped stallion in case he's misread the flow of the conversation, but when else follows, he exits the corridor, wandering back into the quiet labyrinth of the castle and his own thoughts.
@Ipomoea Thank you!
