[ There's a moment of bemusement, tinged with the hint of a thrill as she brushes her hoof against him. Amos isn't entirely sure what that's about, but still, he lifts his own foot, knocks it lightly against her other front hoof still on the ground. Playing footsie. Kind of. While they continue to hold onto each other, continue to not let go.

His gaze — his heart — softens at those mental images of tiny horse-children, happy and healthy and living the way kids should, the way neither of them got to. Doesn't really change, even as she details the circumstances of her pain. Because he understands her — but he also understands now that's what Meridian brings. Pain. ]

Hey. [ Without any other options available to him he lifts their entwined hands — the ones with his soul in between them; if he was trying anything here, it wouldn't be with it in the way — and nuzzles her hand when it's within reach. Looks back up at her. ] That's one way of looking at it. Can't do anything if you're dead, though. Not for them. Not for the ones who'll come after.

[ They're dead, but there'll be more later. In a new world. Where nobody will be treated the way they were growing up, he's pretty sure, Zenith singing to him.

He gives her a small, rueful smile. ]

You should probably be coming with me. [ With Zenith. ] I'd bring you back with me if I could, but...

[ But she's absorbing his pain Meridian so he never has to go through that again. The whole thing is rather counterintuitive, and he can't help but give Hayame an almost apologetic laugh.

She understands him. He understands her. And it's for those reasons that he wants to save her — and can't.

Not here, at least, but maybe later; and how's that for hope. ]