((Warning, this is a semi-indulgent piece of fluff with tiny shreds of character development if you get out a magnifying glass. Don't judge me.))

Lan's...confession, if that was what it could be called, had opened his eyes to the world around him. It was moving on, regardless of whether or not he was ready.

He was not.

He was not moving on, and while he was coping he had not made much progress. But still, now he was aware. Aware that others might be thinking about things beyond rebuilding. So when he saw the soldier beckoning him to her tent he actually noticed the rest of the signs she was giving him. Her hair down, when normally this horsewoman kept her hair back in a tight bun, her shirt gaping slightly.

"Join me? Its apple cider...the good stuff. Traded a bit of work for some." He did not judge her, they could all use something harder than water, especially her. He set across from her, their cups tapping together. It was unspoken, this agreement. Now that he was in her tent...he really was not in the mood. But he had a certain...reputation. A reputation he had had for a long time. Of being discrete, and getting the job done. He had been with this mare before, in times past when he was practically a colt, still in training. And then later he had been invited to join her and her partner, the pair looking for something a bit...different to spice up their leave time together. He had fulfilled that role whenever they wanted someone to join them, the two mares a pleasant sort that let him have some fun of his own.

And fun he had had. With several mares, not going to just anyone's chambers, but willing enough to be discrete. He was probably as much liked for the fact that he did not flaunt what he had done, was not boastful or shared names as much as he was liked for talents he may have possessed. That even though he was a guardian during part of that time he did not let it go to his head, he still remembered his soldier origins, growing up in the lower ranks.

It had all changed with Ástríđr. She had chosen him to be her Guardian, and it was a duty. That was it. Priestess and Guardian, working together, but that alone did not constitute a relationship. But she knew him. Knew how to get under his skin with simple words, knew how to stop just before her teasing infuriated him. He had fallen for her before he had even realized it. And once they had both admitted to that he was loyal.

Was still loyal. He wondered what he was doing. In a horsewoman's tent, the promise of what he had really accepted by coming here looming over him. He stared into his empty cup. He had a reputation to uphold, true, but...he was not sure he wanted it. He was not sure if now was the time.

"I miss her," the wistful words, full of heartbreak, cut through him like a knife and he looked up. "Anneli. I miss her. But I can't imagine she'd want to see me here, like this. She'd probably tell me to get off my a** before I turned soft like a Conquest." The corner of his mouth twitched upward as he imagined Anneli. Yes, that was exactly what she would have said.

"Got any more of that?" She shook her head but brought out a fresh bottle, pouring a bit into each of their cups. "To Anneli."

"And Ástríđr."

He hesitated for just a moment before nodding. "And Ástríđr." They downed the cider, and he was half tempted to throw the cup on the ground, a habit from times past, colts around a campfire after missions together, blood of humans staining their clothing, spirits high. Instead...he held out his cup once more. She snorted, but filled their cups again regardless. It was just cider, only enough to get them buzzed, both still fully capable of making their own decisions rationally. But it helped take the edge off, helped to ease the way.

He did not wait around for morning. It was not a romantic thing that had transpired, simply two clansmen, two friends, working out their grief together. Taking care of needs. If it was supposed to help him to get over Ástríđr, it had failed. His first thoughts as he walked back to his quarters were of guilt. Of a longing he knew he could not cure. But that passed eventually. It was just physically, he was not moving on. He still loved her, she was still the one that his heart belonged to. But what he had had with the horsewoman...it had simply been fun. A way to work off excess energy. Good for them both and he could just walk away from it all.

But as he went about his day, he began to pick up on small signs, now that he knew to look for them again. Small, curious, sometimes appreciative glances. Murmured greetings or conversations that were not entirely necessary. He could be discrete. There were others in the same position as him and...he was there to serve. Priestesses primarily, but for this...they were all Death. Maybe they were all simply clansmen. He would not go seeking out partners, but nor did he plan to shirk from them.

As he passed through the marketplace a ribbon caught his eye. A nice deep blue, the color of Anneli's eyes. A conversation he remembered overhearing once while out on a mission with the two mares. The body of a dead human filly, hair in pigtails tied up with bright ribbons splayed out, and Anneli saying that if they were not human ribbons they would be a rather nice accessory for her partner.

On a whim he purchased the ribbon. Later that day he would leave it off at the tent he had visited the night before. Too cheap to be misconstrued as any sort of "payment," or even really as affection. Just a pretty bauble. A thanks for what they had, and for leaving it at that.

And then Soren was moving on. It was a step, a small one that an outsider probably could not understand, maybe just easing his foot forward, but it was a step.