Sunlight beamed down from the clear skies overhead, driving the sunset mare to cling to the sides of buildings as she passed down another cobblestone street. At early afternoon, the temperature was still climbing, and while not outright unbearable it was still uncomfortable enough for Phoebe to seek every cool shadow she happened to pass by, small bits of respite to be claimed whenever possible. Another little sigh slid through her lips as she ghosted through another shaded alcove, her magenta eyes closing in momentary bliss. She could only imagine how unbearable the weather would be in a few weeks' time, when summer was at its height and the heat was impossible to escape; she was in no immediate hurry to meet it. She was, however, eager to locate a particular residence--operation?--that would assist in a longtime goal of hers. Since her childhood, Phoebe had longed to become a defender of those in need of one, each radiant heart that bloomed and brightened the world in which they lived. They deserved someone to watch over them, protectors to interpose themselves when danger threatened to snuff out their light. She saw it as her calling, her life's goal...only her efforts to achieve it had been meager if nonexistent of late. It was high time she put a more honest effort into becoming this better version of herself she so longed to claim.
In her mind, that began with arming herself properly. She had seen others wandering the court and beyond who wore swords, axes, shields as extensions of their own being, held aloft by the magical gift that embedded itself in every creature to enter Novus. It had seemed strange at first, a foreign concept to the young mare, but now it felt pertinent, a necessity to alleviate the seed of failure and guilt burying itself in her chest. If she acquired a weapon, if she mastered its use, she could at last properly defend her home.
Or...was she going about this the wrong way? There was, after all, another option--one just as tempting if not just slightly farther out of reach than the acquisition of a simple weapon. Just as a new magic to lift and carry objects had made itself an integral part of her being, there were other magics that could be learned, wondrous, miraculous shows of strength, power, and intelligence that defied expectation and could catch even the most stalwart of opponents off guard. Perhaps even more tempting than a weapon, magic too had become a dream, something else to achieve to better her desired role within the Court.
As the thought stole through her mind, Phoebe's surefooted forward momentum stalled, slowing until she stopped just inside another shadowy pocket of the street. A worrisome frown etched itself upon her brow and her expression pinched in uncomfortable thought, until her entire posture seemed to deflate in place with a quiet but audible groan. "Why does this have to be so difficult?" she grumbled to herself with an agitated swish of her tail, trapped in place by a sudden, heavy bout of indecision.
A weapon over magic...was she making the right choice?
