He does not like this. He doesn't totally understand what she calls him but he is beginning to pick up on the slang that seems to roll so easily from the tongues of Solterrans, degrading those of other courts. His ears flatten as she speaks, disqueted. Still, he does not interupt. Even when she pauses to think his teeth stay closed. No noise escapes him but his breath, even and quiet. His hooves brace in the sand, shifting a little here or there as his discomfort radiates through his bones. He lets her finish and he weighs what he says next.
The golden stallion has no real desire to try and change her opinion, but he does not understand. Even as their looks are somewhat alike their minds seem to be foils. Faith and reason. It is not true that they cannot coincide, but he must follow reason first. Faith will follow. For several moments after she finished he weighs her words. This is like standing within view of water with quicksand all around. Each step has the potential for great danger and yet the goal is necessary. Water is everything to a thirsty horse and to some knowledge is akin to water. Perhaps greater.
"Harsh lands kill those who do not treat them with respect." Vadim allows, voice gone quiet. He is not guarded- he doesn't know how to be. Anger, fine as a knife blade, prods the strings of caution that make him weigh his words. He doesn't know exactly where this is going. "Why should we not be diplomats and priests? To be all of one kind is dangerous. The strength of Solterra might be in it's warriors and in it's faith, but those warriors cannot stand alone. A warrior is only as strong as the people who feed him and heal him and make peace so he may rest for a time. Faith alone does not keep you fed and watered and unwounded."
Now defiance rings clear in his words. He knows this is dangerous- not only is he a stranger here but she outranks him in this world of hierarchy and authority. But the danger seems little compared to this affront. He is not opposed to violence or to faith, but he needs
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