A hum drifted on the wind. Or perhaps it was a hymn, in a another language, another world, another lifetime. Perhaps the melodies that coloured the air with their delicate and unique brush were stories, histories, wise retellings of the past, only discernible to a few. Maybe they were tellings of things that were yet to unfold - who knew. But they existed, these soft yet pressing melodies, the wondrous harmonics that surely nothing real could actually sing - and yet, there strode the creature singing them, the belle who was not totally equine nor draconian, the hybrid who had only just found herself comfortable in this world - only to have her entire reality shifted recently. It still rattled her brain, and so the songs she sung were sometimes melancholic, other times reminiscent, but always, always telling some kind of story - it didn't matter that whomever happened to hear her singing them didn't understand or comprehend. What mattered was that she sung, her unique chords humming and purring from her chest, sometimes becoming louder, shaping into lyrics in tongues long forgotten. Sometimes the souls who flew with her would sing too, adding their colourful, unique chords into the orchestra, keeping tune and rhythm for they knew the very sound of the dragonmare's own soul.

It was her soul that brought them to life, her soul that allowed them to return here, however briefly (though she was able to recall familiar soul-lights back when she deigned to), her heart and her thoughts that they listened to as they relished in the land of the living again. Though they existed as but soul-lights, they were dragons all the same, and prone to cause havoc and chaos wherever they went. Their scattered thoughts would rush through her head, especially if they were souls she had not met before - often it would take half a day for the dragonmare to settle the excited creatures and find peace again within her own mind.

So, suffice it to say, the dragonmare knew how Volterra felt.

Though grief plagued her, she had expended as much energy in anger and rage as she longed to - the mare had taken to wing once more, to seek out another refuge from the memories of her past, and thoughts of what she must do in the future, however near or far away that future might be. The event of her mother's death had changed her, she knew, but she didn't know what those changes were - she was changed even before the DragonHeart's death, a lady grown beautiful, strong and confident. Now she wasn’t sure what she was - how was she supposed to behave? Was she meant to be sad? Angry? Mostly, she felt tired and weary, though a lifetime of hiding emotions meant even those were ignored. The dragonmare felt something like numb, and so she sung to try and convince herself to feel something again. It worked - to an extent.

She saw him as she wandered, the once-colt who grew into a great hulking stallion, not far from the height, width and breadth of her own father (but never as great as he was, no), with more scars added to his hide and - ah yes, she recalled now - a new queen of his own. The scene she walked into was one perhaps only one akin with dragons would be able to read accurately, for she could pick up on the subtle body language of the companions easier than most (sometimes even better than their bonded's could). The grumpy, angry posture of the mature Red and the indifferent, royal attitude of the Gold caused nothing but amusement to the dragonmare who paused her steps and quietened (but did not stop) her humming melody, as she allowed her gaze to venture further into the grassy area and spy the ever-growing (but still lanky, coltish, young) stallion, Volterra. She was honestly pleased to see him - he had been the first to attend to her side when the death happened, he was attuned to dragons (more than most), and in her experience, he was a sweet boy with ideations of grandeur and magnificence. She remembered him speaking of growing strong and great when he was still shorter than she - from her observations alone, she could see he was well on his way there.

The singing came to a conclusion, dragonsong and equinesong alike, as the mare strode forth into the strange lands that seemed to be rimmed in red, due to the great bloody waters that lingered about here. The stallion seemed well suited to the place, with his ruby eyes and dragon, he looked to be a part of it, even. A small smile graced her lips as she called a greeting to him, calling a second and third greeting to dragons who accompanied him as well, which was echoed by the soul-lights who followed her close by; a red and blue one joined her today, though they were wont to flicker in and out of existence seemingly at random. "Volterra," her tones crafted the name fondly, as she approached the familiar steed with confidence tempered with a shadow of hope and weariness. The dragonmare didn't truly know what to expect, nor what was expected of her - but surely, she had made at least one friend on this earth, and such expectations were forgiven if they were forgotten, or otherwise laughed away?

@Volterra
Amaris wouldn't stop writing herself ahh

Amaris