there are nights when the wolves are silent
and only the horses howl
and only the horses howl
It was befitting that the ophidian stream manifested itself into the figure of a four-legged viper with the eyes and temper to match.
What do you want?
Maerys only wanted the light of day, the comfort of a home - of loving embraces. She craved to mold her dreams into gold that was as tangible as wishes, yet as real as the dawn of Delumine. She wanted these dreams, given to her by the divine hand, to dance with her into the future that calls to her wandering hooves and bohemian soul.
The stranger would not fancy that response, however, and so the girl met that glare with the shine of benevolence rather than words. In anger and argument, Maerys would be blind to the stranger, to the delicate petals of her heart and soul. To learn to respond with love and kindness would mean the beginning of a cure to the monster within the stranger, to return her to the angel of her better nature. The words she ached to speak in such well-intentioned purity could trigger something that comes from a place of fear in the dark mare. The words that tranquilize the stranger would scare the girl and vice versa. It was the different ways these souls have been raised and cultivated.
So there they were, in opposite camps, suddenly blind to each other's good hearts and building barricades instead of bridges.
"Well met, stranger," the girl said finally, ignoring the stare and the vulgar tone the black mare had used on her. "Tis mine own duty to patrol."
She didn't stand stiffly in the cold metal of armor. She had no threads that marked her out as a fighter; a protector. Yet still, she is barely recognizable as the girl she was only four seasons ago. Her shoulders had developed the lean muscle of someone in training. She learned how to run for hours in the mud - over rocks and through rivers - while simultaneously forming connections with those both less and more experienced than herself.
Maerys didn't look like it, but she was a warrior and would not back down from a stranger's stern glare.
What do you want?
Maerys only wanted the light of day, the comfort of a home - of loving embraces. She craved to mold her dreams into gold that was as tangible as wishes, yet as real as the dawn of Delumine. She wanted these dreams, given to her by the divine hand, to dance with her into the future that calls to her wandering hooves and bohemian soul.
The stranger would not fancy that response, however, and so the girl met that glare with the shine of benevolence rather than words. In anger and argument, Maerys would be blind to the stranger, to the delicate petals of her heart and soul. To learn to respond with love and kindness would mean the beginning of a cure to the monster within the stranger, to return her to the angel of her better nature. The words she ached to speak in such well-intentioned purity could trigger something that comes from a place of fear in the dark mare. The words that tranquilize the stranger would scare the girl and vice versa. It was the different ways these souls have been raised and cultivated.
So there they were, in opposite camps, suddenly blind to each other's good hearts and building barricades instead of bridges.
"Well met, stranger," the girl said finally, ignoring the stare and the vulgar tone the black mare had used on her. "Tis mine own duty to patrol."
She didn't stand stiffly in the cold metal of armor. She had no threads that marked her out as a fighter; a protector. Yet still, she is barely recognizable as the girl she was only four seasons ago. Her shoulders had developed the lean muscle of someone in training. She learned how to run for hours in the mud - over rocks and through rivers - while simultaneously forming connections with those both less and more experienced than herself.
Maerys didn't look like it, but she was a warrior and would not back down from a stranger's stern glare.
![[Image: maerys-pixel.png]](https://i.ibb.co/kM48w8r/maerys-pixel.png){kind=tracking}
x
force and magic always permitted
