Lion Head Mesa I'm sorry that I'm misbehaving; I'm your little scarlet, starlet

She’d known she hadn’t wanted it. And so did he. That was what was left after two years of partnership, when frivolous surface antics like games and war and politics are shelled what remains is only the mirror, and the mirror reflects a flawless copy of yourself.

He hears her, won't acknowledge the words. They are the offshooting embers of a larger fire, the thing she truly wants to say but will not. She doesn’t need to- he already knows.

“I have an assignment from the Queen. I will leave this place.” A lingering kiss there, then a raise of muzzle, turning to take the red horizon.

“And you will not follow.”