She remained, she remained in sight, she did not fade to smoke or disappear with the faint breath of the wind. Instead, her soothing voice trickled out, and one ear sluggishly flopped in her direction, a mockery of alertness. "Moth," she said, and something inside him stirred, a vague memory of something. It was his name, his identity, it was his entire being, and yet it felt detached, distant. He tried to hold on to her voice, but found it hard to process the words. "S-stay..." he repeated dumbly, mumbling it out. Stay. With her. He was hardly going to move, and he frowned ever so slightly. What did she mean, stay? If they were dead, they could just fly away, why stay on this desolate piece of rock? Or.. had she said something about alive? It was too much to wrap his mind around, too much to think about, and with a groan his eye slipped shut again, but he remained vaguely aware of his surroundings. Something seemed lighter, shining through his eyelids.

Then something cool touched him, and Moth lost all sense of reality.

It was snaking around his body, embracing him, forcing the heat out - from within, somehow it had entered him... But it held him, rocked him, and with closed eyes he lay in the air, one hind hoof hanging out across an invisible edge. If he hadn't been convinced he was dead already, he sure was now; this didn't happen in the real world. But, all the same, it felt good. His head protested at being moved around though, but something soft and cold cushioned his muzzle when he rested it against the.. well, ground? He could hardly lie on the ground anymore. He breathed out, a healing sigh. Whatever was happening, it felt good; if it was an angel stealing his soul, it was okay. The surroundings became clearer, the sounds too, his memory as well - alighting on a dried field, walking in the sun, becoming hot. He didn't recall the actual collapse, just knew that he'd horrible erred and misjudged. Was he paying for it now, by dying? He wasn't sure if he was dying at all, or what was even real. Maybe it was all just a dream? But his head wasn't hurting as badly anymore, the abominable throb in his skull soothed. What was going on?

Something gave him a slight nudge, a faint signal in his nervous system, and without questioning it Moth allowed his legs to unfold. Hooves touched solid rock and joints stabilized; he half-staggered, shuffled to regain his footing and balance. Ruffled wings hung limp by his sides, but he was standing, and.. everything felt better. His head felt more or less fine, the scents around him actually made sense, and he no longer felt as if on fire. Slowly, his eyes opened again.

It hadn't been a dream.

Onni stood in front of him, alive, well, glowing with a pale blue light that slowly seeped out of his body and back to outline her against the thin, winding path. "Shaman," he breathed in wonder, watching the corona fade into nothing. Blue eyes - the blue of his fevered memory - opened, the soft smile he remembered upon her pale muzzle, and something within him... broke. He felt like falling to his knees and crying, but instead he just stared dumbly at her, as if not quite believing what he was seeing. With all of the shit he'd managed to pull down on himself, he awoke to seeing her? A faint, ghostly laughter escaped him, for it was all he could do. He was robbed of words.

And what she said was so.. not what he had expected. Not even a hi, how you doing, why are you three quarters dead up here? Not that he minded, he just - he shook his head, a small smile on his face, amazement in his eyes. What could he possibly say? Or do? It was so out of the ordinary, he still wasn't sure he was alive... Maybe he'd died, and this was just the afterlife? And that was why it was better?

She was walking away, and Moth gathered up his wings and hurried after, looking at the finch flying in front of her. Lyhty she'd called it; was it a guardian spirit, an angel, or real? She hadn't had it back in Anarore, but things changed... Things always changed. He broke into a trot to catch up with her, and the jarring movement sent a shadow of an ache through his head. Water, yes. I doubt you have headaches in heaven. Once right behind her, he slowed again, content to follow - still robbed of words. Everything was just too magical for him to say anything, afraid to break the spell and end up on that ledge again, parched and hot, dying and alone.