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So when the light grows dim
I've given all my love

Not even a mother’s love could take the bones of an explorer from the body of a girl. And oh, not that Jahra would ever try! They were bred from the same frothing ocean star, and now that the Seaborne knew her mother was but a nicker away, she ventured across the shales of strange shores with certain hoofsteps. Her boldness bloomed in earnest, its spindly vines spreading through her veins, golden petaled and lovely and sure of itself. She parted from the cove they’d nested in these past few nights come dawn, a flick of an opaline hoof upturning stones to breadcrumb her path back to home.
The world spanned out before her, vast and beautiful; and Aehra trotted its countless paths, hungry and insatiable.
Summer air was warm upon her dappled spine, fringing the lilac grey of her freckled coat in a healthy sheen of sweat. She didn’t mind, not as the sun bore down on her in broad shafts of buttery light, painting her silver hair in enviable gold. In another life, perhaps, she was igneous and steel; bedecked in the marvelous yellows of Cosmos’ burning sky.
In another life, perhaps, she was the ferocity of the sun, rather than the gentleness of the moon.
She stumbled through her reverie and over the sprawling root of a great tree, gasped, and giggled.
In another life, indeed.
The prairie was an impenetrable fortress of green spread further than her glacial eyes could see, but she kept her steps trained to the coast. She was brave enough to wander without her mother (at two years, she ought to be!), but she had yet to muster the courage to venture where the sea might not follow. Whether the creeping hands of a bracken stream, the deep murk of a swampy estuary, or the distant slosh of the ocean’s song. She always had to be close, to taste the salt upon her tongue.
And one day—one day, she would plunge below the crystalline surface and breathe the water from which her blood was born.
With a deep sigh, her seafoam heart thudding longingly, the girl halted her whimsical fancies in favor of scanning the horizon. The grass tickled her pasterns, far coarser than the kiss of water, and the earth against the soles of her hooves was far firmer than the dusty sand of the shoreline. If she lay among the weeds and the flowers, she was certain she would sneeze and itch and huff—
Enough of that, she scolded herself.
Drawing herself tall, her glittering hooves squared beneath her, she reserved her judgment for later consideration. Perhaps, one day, the bias would wear off—or else she would only be proven right.
Mercifully for the green and grand earth, it was spared the girl’s harsh criticisms as her eyes fixed elsewhere.
Stark against the brightened prairie stood a silhouette: an abyssal creature that surely must have risen from the toil of tar and ash. She was reminded of the soot left behind in the wake of a campfire, or perhaps the night sky when the heavens were too bedecked in clouds for the smile of stars. A child of midnight, undoubtedly; but one hewn of a deeper black than the filly had ever seen.
Darkness, perhaps. Her family often spoke of darkness.
Aehra paused mid stride, her ears flattening against a crown of silver tassels, and she gave in to the irksome naivety of a prejudicial snort. With a glance over a slim shoulder, she allowed herself a heartbeat of deliberation.
And then she moved, flouncing and purposeful as she made a huffy descent over the slopes of the valley, down into the dip upon which this darkness stood, juxtaposed against the green and the sunlight.
“Excuse me,” she called, pointed and demanding, and the rich nature of her accent was indication enough of what tongue she favored. The youthful curve of her brow narrowed, but she had the good sense to halt some feet away before badgering the stranger further.
The angle of her body betrayed her ignorant uncertainty, even as her expression was model curiosity.
“Did you come from… ah,” an aimless gesture of her nose, a searching sound of frustration. Ignis, ignis, ignis. Fire! That's it. Did you come from fire?”
For surely Aehra had come from the sea. Why, then, would the rest of the world not be hewn of element?

Speech | @Nameless
(Hover for translations)

Played by Offline Silverfang [PM] Posts: 11 — Threads: 3
Signos: 260
Night Court Citizen
Female [she/her/hers]  |  6 [Year 499 Winter]  |  15.2 hh  |  Hth: 13 — Atk: 7 — Exp: 10  |    Active Magic: N/A  |    Bonded: N/A

the infinite intimacy of her rage

Now what driving force had led her into the sun today?

Perhaps she was sick of lingering, hidden in the shadows. For once, maybe she wanted to glow with the sun and feel the warmth of golden ichor, the lifeblood of all things, upon her back. She'd feed from the moon's glow and the stars that shown at night, but in the end, the sun was the one to give that glow to the moon and all stars were suns in their own right, too. Yes, it made sense to give the counterpart to darkness some attention now and then. She doesn't dislike it, merely isn't accustomed to feeling so open. So exposed. So out of her element.

And so obsidian hooves had carried her once more to the prairies of Denocte. It's a completely different world: she could see everything, of course, but the shadows no longer had their own existence and it was impossible for anything to hide here. Nothing to train her senses on. Nothing to fear. No uncertainty about her surroundings, nor about what soared in the sky or walked along that flat horizon. A dramatic flip to the world she'd met Thaeron in, where he had nearly scared her out of her wits with his stumbling and smell of dry blood. It had been nothing to fear, after all, but there had still been that sense of anticipation before he'd stepped into her line of sight. There was none of that now.

How... Boring.

The thought causes her to blink, curious, and in the next moment - a figure appears cresting and straying from the horizon line to her left. She casts her eyes seamlessly toward this other, out-of-element soul as she, until she can tell that her path is leading this stranger directly to where she is. No doubt that they'd seen each other by now, aware of their existence. As the young unicorn comes into view, she can see now she mirrors the blue of the sky and her hair (which large curls brush her crest, her brows, in a softness that she is somewhat envious of) carry the smells of the ocean.

She'd never seen her before, but she hadn't been here long and the faces that she didn't know largely outweighed those that she did. Perhaps the more she knew, the more she found, would help her feel belonging to the place in which she'd set her roots. Even if that feeling is long-yearned for and hardly ever fulfilled.

Lost in her thoughts in a distant gaze, she is brought back to reality as her young company's voice rings out to her much closer now and she stops just short of a length away. When she brings her attention to her in expectation of what she may say, her eyes are inquisitive and her posture composed, as it always is. And that question that comes - fire? Did she come from fire. It's a curious concept and not something she's ever been asked before. Elements - she isn't unaware of them; fire, water, air, earth, the fundamental aspects of all things - she isn't sure she belongs to any of those, if anything at all, but it's certainly a thought that's amusing to entertain.

"Fire... Ha, I'm flattered by that thought... But, no, I don't believe I come from anything. I'm quite plain, as you can see." Her voice keeps a distant softness about it, truly in a comfortable appreciation for the fact this interaction was starting with such a different taste to it. Different compared to the more mundane, 'usual' greetings, anyway. She's matter-of-fact in the way she presents her words, especially about herself, unbothered and reasonable. "Then I suppose you come from something, yourself? You remind me of the sky. Or... Water, precious minerals hidden beneath the pebbles, shore, and sand." Her eyes scan the stranger's opaline horn, the scars that line her skin. They look different, in a way that doesn't make it seem like they particularly hurt, but that she was carrying some precious treasure just below the lining of her thin skin. It makes her think...

"Your voice is not typical of anything I've ever heard before. Not here. Where do you come from? Have you been here very long?" She tries not to let her questions flow without ease, nor with a probing, demanding tone. Instead she tries to make her questions congenial, if anything, and without any stress for the other to answer if she doesn't truly want to. But she had come in with a question for her - it was only fair she gave a few of her own.



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So when the light grows dim
I've given all my love

It was impossible for the dreaming girl to imagine a world where this woman did not rise from ash. Where she was not, somehow, the creative of soot and fire—as though a miasma of smoke had risen from plumes of ember to coalesce into something elegantly feral, and as dark as the pitch of night. Aehra’s lips pursed finely in answer to the short pop of laughter, a soft rejection of the Seaborne’s queries.

I’m quite plain, as you can see.

She would have to disagree. Plain, perhaps, but only in the way that an obscure night sky might be. There was no telling what lay beyond the black, unfurling fluff of clouds, and were Aehra a pinch braver, she might insist to pull back the fine layers of murk to find the stars underneath. For like the sea, the girl was unfathomably compelled by the allure of the moon, and hungered to know if it hid beneath this woman’s skin.

The Seaborne was too gentle for such starved curiosity, and she satiated her narrowed, disappointed eyes with a flash of her silver tail. Aehra’s chin lifted, the lithe taper of her neck ribboning into something judgmental. “Water,” she corrected, the music of her voice lilted with mild ire.

Perhaps she did come from the sky—perhaps she was a girl of both worlds. For though she had been christened by saltwater, Aehra knew that her island mothers were a juxtaposition of tidal depths and astral heavens. Jahra in her delicate fins and her lavender hide, which shone like seawater under the fall of a setting sun—Aelin and her resplendent wings, vast and blue, and her ivory skin.

And yet both of them loved their seafoam daughter, and had raised her beneath the God of blue, mysterious emptiness.

Water. She came from water.

“Where do I come from? I’ve already told you.” Her words might have been too cross, but it was a subject that was inconsequential to Aehra. She knew enough of her own history; it was the freshness of this new land, these new people, that she wanted to unravel.

Aehra backpedaled with disarming swiftness, dismissing the stranger’s queries with a brusqueness that would no doubt bereave the loveliness of her mothers.

“You should not call yourself plain, or else other people will, too. Better to let them assume that you are fire, or a starless sky, or anything but plain.”  A huff left her gray lips, and the girl’s opaline eyes shone with a discontent that leveled her youth.

Her tongue clucked beyond the cage of her teeth, a leg lifting reflexively as her skin shivered, rejecting the tickle of a too-long blade of grass.

At last, she conceded. “I come from too many worlds. Some I haven’t been to—but they were my mothers’ homes, and so they’re mine, too.”

Pinning the other mare beneath close scrutiny, she made another offering. “I am Aehra.”

Speech | @Nameless
(Hover for translations)

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