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Halia's facade had finally crumbled. Through all her time with her bovine benefactor, she had never felt the need to put on display the broken body that she had. But here they both are, outside Rhannah's dairy with the cow only dressed in a hastily thrown robe and Halia, collapsed on the ground, prosthetic popped off. Not broken, but loose, apart, showing her incomplete self.

The final wall collapsed, and she, too, broke down.

Wailing and tears fill her existence. Part of her can almost hear what her old CO would be yelling at her for behaving this way, and that just serves to make the combat-hardened mare feel worse. The whole time the cow stands there, the bovine holds onto her outfit and watches the mare. Rhannah projects empathy, but does not get too close to the wounded warrior. She lets the horse let it out, until the frustrations, the despair, overwhelm her to the point of no longer caring to cry. Halia is at the point where she just sits there, gathering her breath, ready, perhaps, to listen.

"Why do you hurt yourself?" Rhannah asks. It's a quick question and one that didn't point to any particular instance.

"Everyone," Halia begins, trembling, not caring to reattach her broken body, "everyone is just so, so fucking insensitive. They don't get it. They don't know what it's like to be broken on the inside and on the outside."

"They don't?" Rhannah says.

"Yeah, they-"

"Good."

"What...?" Halia stares up at Rhannah. Confused, off-guard, her eyes wide, the shock of the reaction, so direct, and so unexpected, leaves her without much more to say.

Rhannah steps up, standing before Halia now, only a clenched hand keeping her robe together. "Good for them. They shouldn't have to understand. People can't know what they haven't experienced. They can get out of bed and face the day. They don't look to a blade to give them something to feel. They don't starve themselves or try to fill a void with food or drink. They're not aware of what it's like to not be them because they don't want to and have never had to consider it."

Halia's ears twitch, betraying her inner argument. Her eyes blink once, twice, three-four times, then her gaze lowers, her grip on the grass loosens. Her ears droop.

Rhannah kneels down, narrowing her own gaze and whispering, "Look at me."

Halia does so.

"They should never have to understand what it's like to go through what you're going through. Still, under no circumstances do you have any right to condemn them for their naivety."

"Y...Yes, "the horse blows her lips "You're right," Halia says. "You really know it all, don't you?" she gives a soft, half-hearted chuckle, trying to diffuse the situation.

"No, for one, I don't know how you've lived with this for so long."

Halia's attitude shifts and she shuffles to face the cow better. "I don't exactly have a choice, do I? If I did, there really is only one other choice, isn't there?"

Rhannah stands up again, hands now on her hips, robe draping gently apart, but she doesn't care. "You're being childish. You know that?" Halia snorts.

"Tch! As if,"

"No, really." Rhannah continues, marching aside of her, crossing her arms over her chest. "How many times in basic training did you want to quit, but you didn't? You didn't step off that bus able to," the cow gestures as she tries to come up with random examples off the top of her head, "Dodge bullets, traverse minefields, run an obstacle course in under ten seconds, and, come up with a brilliant tactical plan, all before breakfast, did you?"

"No, of course not."

She looks over her shoulder towards the pathetic horse. "So, why, then, are you quitting barely a day in? It makes no sense."

"I- This isn't how I'm supposed to be! I'm not how I'm supposed to be!" Halia says, grabbing onto her prosthesis, sliding it back into position, fumbling at the latches.

"Your military life is behind you. This," Rhannah says, motioning towards Halia herself, stumbling up to her hooves, "is your life now. You can't graduate from that."

"Then," Halia responds, fully standing eye-to-eye with the cow. "I'll just live with it. That's what you want? To keep going, to not commit suicide. Fine. I'll keep this going, just for you."

"About that," Rhannah says, poking the horse on the chest. "Abusing pain meds and alcohol and getting into fights all the time is basically a form of suicide already. If you really want to keep going, you're going to have to stop this destructive behavior."

Halia rolls her eyes but doesn't shift away from the cow's touch

"Oh, but you're mistaken, boss," she says. "My drinking is a celebration of my oh-so-glorious life. It gives me a respite, a way to feel alive."

Rhannah closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "I see... is that true?"

"Huh?"

"You want something to fill a void in your life? Then, it has to be constructive."

"Oh, like more work with the milkmaids?"

"No, I'm not talking about that. But, I do have an idea, if you're serious."

Halia's muzzle shifts a bit. She runs her fingers along it. "Fine, what's the big idea, then?"

Hands-on her hips, Rhannah continues, the udder-exposed cow showing off her authority even in her compromised position. "Promise me something: If you ever feel the need to self-deprecate or self-destruct, you need to tell me 'Forgive me Mistress, and then you will tell me what is on your mind. Am I clear?"

Halia scoffs, retreating back in her folded arm posture.

"If you don't have those thoughts, then you won't have to say anything, so what's the harm?"

Halia shrugs, and then she relents. "Fine..."

"That being said," Rhannah says, tilting her head back in an authoritative posture. "If you do have such thoughts, or, forbid it, you act out, then you need to be punished."

Halia frowns, rubbing the back of her head. "I mean... I guess...?"

"No," Rhannah says, stepping up, her fingers brushing along the horse's shoulders. "'Yes, Mistress.'"

"Uh, what? Come again? I don't-"Rhannah stops her with a finger gently pressed to the mare's lips.

"Come now, dear, you spent how many years telling your superiors' Yes sir'? This shouldn't feel that awkward for you."

Halia stares straight into her boss's eyes, seeing the seriousness in them, but also a deep caring and understanding. The horse huffs. She hems, she haws, but eventually, she curtly nods her head, "Yes, Mistress."

Rhannah smiles and leans in, pressing a quick kiss upon the horse's cheek. "Very good. Now, then, let's go home, my pet."

"Oh, yeah... no to that, 'Mistress," Halia says, but Rhannah notices that ghost of a smirk on the mare's mouth.